A shiver runs through me, despite the mild night breeze blowing in from the ocean, and suddenly I’m stone-cold sober. I release the breath I’ve been holding, my shoulders sagging in defeat as I move to the railing. I stare out over the inky water, taking a sip from my drink, wincing at the suddenly bitter taste. Maybe it’s the drink; maybe it’s the vile aftertaste of what just occurred between the two of us. Closing my eyes, I down the whole thing in a few mouthfuls, cursing under my breath as the liquor burns the back of my throat.

Sometimes I find myself wondering just how I can be so damn stupid. I’m so scared to be myself; hell, I don’t even know who I am, anymore. I’m so good at playing a part—the sarcastic tomboy I forced myself to be growing up because it was easier than being the slightly chubby dork no boy would ever want—I’m often shocked when glimpses of the real me show through. The girl who has a heart that’s been broken for longer than a heart should be broken at my age. The girl who believes in love and wants it more than anything. The girl who desperately wants her happily ever after.

I’ll never admit it out loud, but sometimes I think Nash broke me. I don’t even know who I am without him. It was always him and me when we were growing up. Then it was the two of us when we were together. Then, after our breakup, it was just me, but I seemed to lose myself in the memory of what I had with Nash and, when I lost him, I’d lost the person I thought I was. Because of the love I felt for him for such a long time, it’s almost as if I’m broken for any man who isn’t him. Because of the way I fell so hard for him, I’m scared I’ll never love again. Because of him, I can’t even lose myself in a drunken kiss with Harley. I shake my head at the memory of the way he looked at me just now before he disappeared inside. He seemed so incredulous, confused, and possibly even a little hurt.

Why? I have no idea. This is all a lie. He said so himself just last night when he was rejecting me in the most humiliating way possible. Yes, maybe my feelings have become confused somewhere along the line, but I can’t let that get in the way of whatever the hell it is I’m doing. It’s Harley Shaw, for Christ’s sake. If I let my feelings become tangled within his infamous web, I’ll only end up hurt.

But it’s just a kiss, my subconscious argues. Yeah, and kissing leads to God knows what else. Just one kiss, she continues relentlessly, and I just know she’s not going to give up without a fight. One kiss is all it takes. But imagine how good his hands would feel caressing your skin …