And he’s not wrong, exactly. There have been plenty of times in the past I’ve wanted to run away and avoid everything and yet I didn’t. But only with the little things. The easier things. Presenting at work when there’s no other choice, forcing myself to make small talk with acquaintances I can’t otherwise avoid, overcoming fear of a crowded train. But when it comes to the larger, more important confrontations, I still do everything in my power to run away. I haven’t spoken with Eloise or my parents, and I’m still evading the truth about myself. I’m not brave. Not really. Not as Alex sees me. I wish I were.

My heart wrenches in my chest, the organ pressing relentlessly at my breast bone.

“You aren’t nervous around me, are you?” He tosses me a sly grin.

Well, we have spent basically months together and I know what your lips feel like and I’ve memorized the gold flecks in your eyes and the feel of your hands. But I can’t tell him that.

“I’ve always liked you, Alex.”

His smile spreads across his face, and the heat of it melts my insides as if he’s the sun shining through the fog. “Hey listen, I’m in a band. We have a gig tonight. I mean, it’s not a big thing, we’re the opening act and it’s at the Saloon, but you should come.” He straightens and his expression clouds. “Wait. Is this weird? Since we’ve spent most of the day together already, I don’t want to make it weird.”

I smile. “It’s not weird. I had fun today.”

I want to spend every day with him. Every night. I want to share all the bits and pieces of myself, good, bad, indifferent. It doesn’t matter. He sees the best possible version of me.

What a notion, to be understood and accepted, exactly as I am.

And then the ground drops out from under me.

Holy shit.

I love him.

Chapter Nineteen

I should have seen this coming. I’m in love with Alex. This isn’t a crush. This isn’t my normal, anxiety-prone obsession. This isn’t lust. I mean, it’s not only lust.

I love him.

This should be an overwhelming discovery. A breathtaking adventure. A remarkable revelation. But it’s not.

The psychic child told me I could get through with love. Well, here I am in love, but it’s not getting me to the next day.

Frustration is my constant companion. It itches at me, pokes me in the sides, stabs me in the heart. It never stops.

Time passes, and I’m still in love, and I’m still stuck on Monday, June seventh.

Love is not all rainbows and flowers and unicorns.

It’s agonizing. Hellish. Horrific.