I’d be broken. That was what.

So I let the moment drag on and instead of speaking from my heart, I decided to speak from that place men like me were excellent at speaking from. My asshole. “Well,” I said. “Glad we got that out of the way. Now I don’t think we need to worry about any sexual tension.” It was bullshit. A thousand percent bullshit, in fact. But I hoped it would sting just enough to make her pull back and erase the possibility of anything forming between us. I didn’t trust myself not to reach for it in a moment of weakness, so I needed to push Pearl away while I could.

I got up from the bed, pretending I didn’t see the flash of hurt in her face. I pulled on my clothes–which was easier said than done, considering we’d managed to fling them in several different directions–and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

Once the frosted door was closed, I felt like hanging my head over the sink. Hell, I felt like going back out there to her and telling her that was bullshit. But a few hours ago, I thought I was in control. I thought if we did try to make something of what was between us, it’d be something I could stand to walk away from. I thought if we had sex, I’d decide if I wanted more or not. I didn’t expect what was happening to me.

So maybe it was shitty of me. Maybe I’d regret it. But I stayed in the bathroom until I heard her get up, get dressed, and leave the room a few minutes later. I wasn’t sure where she was going, but I decided it was probably best for us both to have space. I knew I needed it.

19

PEARL

I padded barefoot through the hotel, down the elevator, and to the bar off the lobby. There was a big butcher block counter beneath a thick archway of pale logs that had been polished smooth. I glanced at my phone, saw it was past midnight, and took a spot at the bar. I recognized a couple of groups there from work, and hesitated with my phone still in my hand. I thought about texting Marley and asking her to meet me here.

But what would be the point? I couldn’t tell her the truth about Dean and me, so I couldn’t explain why it felt like my heart had just been ripped in two.

The woman behind the bar had dark hair, tattoos from her hands up to her neck, and a pierced nose. I judged she was a little older than me. Also infinitely cooler.

She noticed me and came over. “What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. I didn’t know why, but the simple word made me feel like I was about to crack. I felt tears well in my eyes and forced a casual smile, hoping I could fake my way through the emotion threatening to rise up. “Water?” I choked out.