I barely feel him under me, barely get a taste of the heat before he shoves me away. I stumble from the force of it, throw my hand against the wall behind me to catch myself. I’m so shocked I can’t speak and he only stares at me, horrified.

“Don’t ever do that,” he wheezes. “Don’t ever kiss me.” He’s wiping at his mouth with his hands as if my lips were poison.

I can’t look at him. I turn away, mortified by his utter rejection.

Just like that, all the insecurities slam back into me. It’s like walking down stairs in the dark and thinking there’s one step left when there isn’t—instead you stutter and fall off balance on solid ground.

For a moment I hope that maybe we can just pretend it never happened. That I didn’t try to kiss him and that he didn’t push me away. I want nothing more than for this to be possible but I know it’s not.

I start for the stairwell door, my back stiff, but he stops me with his words.

“I’m infected,” he says harshly. “I could infect you! Don’t you understand that? Don’t you even care about yourself enough to avoid that risk?” He paces, frustrated and angry, while I stand clutching the doorknob. I feel like nothing, as if I don’t exist, and the taste of it is sharp-edged and bitter.

It doesn’t matter why he can’t kiss me—only that he’s rejected me so thoroughly. I inhale deeply, welcoming the biting cold into my lungs. If only it could freeze me inside. I don’t understand why I’m still out here, why I haven’t stomped down the steps escaping from him and this moment.

“I care,” I whisper, turning just enough to see him from the corner of my eye.

He stops pacing and looks at me, holds out a hand and then lets it drop. Emotions war across his face. “I’m sorry, Annah,” he says softly. He’s standing in the shadows, the remnants of the evening having faded while we were playfully chasing each other around the roof.

“You have to understand that I’m dangerous. It doesn’t matter what you or I want. Don’t you see that?” He’s almost begging.

Not knowing what else to do, I nod.

“I can’t do this,” he says, but I hold up a hand to stop the excuses. I’ve let this entire evening spiral out of control. A control I’ve spent the last several years perfecting. I can feel the anger I’ve been holding back too long swelling.

Teeth clenched so that I don’t say something I may regret, I whip open the door and step toward the darkened stairwell.