"They didn't convince me of anything. They just showed me reality."
"Bullshit."
"It's not?—"
"It is." He's right in front of me now, close enough to touch. "They showed you who they are. Cowards who couldn't handle what you are. That's not the same thing."
"And what am I, Gunnar? What exactly do you think I am?"
"Everything they were too stupid to see."
My throat closes.
No.
No, he doesn't get to say things like that.
Doesn't get to make me hope.
"This is just sex," I say desperately. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?"
"No. We're friends. I got drunk and we fucked and now it's over."
"Is that what you want? For it to be over?"
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
"It has to be," I whisper. "Because I can't—I can't do this again."
"Do what?"
"Believe that I matter. Believe that someone actually wants me for more than just—" My voice breaks. "I can't survive it when you throw me away too."
Understanding floods his face. "I'm not going to throw you away."
"That's what they said."
"I'm not them."
"Everyone says that."
"Ingrid—" He reaches for me but I step back.
"Don't. Don't make promises you can't keep. Don't tell me I'm special or different or worth something when we both know?—"
"This isn't like the past," he interrupts, voice firm. "This is different."
The words I've been dreading.
The words I've heard before.
The words that always turn out to be lies.
