I lean in across the table, eyes locked with his. This needs to land. “Because she’s not just any woman. She’s Lauren Green—the girl who had you by the balls all through high school. And since you couldn’t stand it, you treated her like trash so no onewould notice how much it tore you up that you couldn’t have her.”
And right then—those exact words—hit me in the chest like a punch. I can almost hear Dr. Smith saying them himself.
Maybe that was Silas’s pattern. But right now?It’s mine.I’m hurting Emma just to hide the fact that I’mstillnot over her.
Shit.
Maybe I should cancel therapy. I just diagnosed my own damn problem.
Emma Green’s been mine for three months now.
I asked her to be my girlfriend at the Halloween school party. She said yes.
“I wanna be only yours,”I whispered in her ear while Adele’sOne and Onlyplayed.“And I want you to be only mine.”
She looked up at me with this smile—God, the softest one I’ve ever seen.
“I am.”
She was dressed as a zombie painter. Basically, a regular zombie, but with a paintbrush dripping fake blood. I went as a shadow. Literally, just wore all black like every other day of my life.
And since then? We’ve barely spent time apart. Even when she had to stay late working on her art project at school, I’d just bring a book and chill nearby. No talking. Just existing near her.
I’m in love for the first time. And I can’t imagine this feeling ever belonging to anyone else.
Emma’s been busting her ass trying to get into the Academy of Fine Arts. Today, she found out she didn’t make it. The only reason I even know that is because Lauren told me at lunch—Emma hadn’t shown up all day. So, I picked up some chocolate and a fresh set of paintbrushes and headed straight to her place.
Time to do the boyfriend thing.
I knock twice at her door, tugging my shirt to look a little more human. This is the first time I’m meeting her parents.
Her mom opens and gives me a warm smile the second she sees me. “You must be Luca.”
“In the flesh. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Green.”
Their house is totally different from mine. First off, they live on the city outskirts, in a more laid-back neighborhood. Second, their house feels… like ahome. Cozy. Not like mine, which feels like a sterile museum with no soul.
“Emma’s in her room. Careful opening the door—she’s been throwing stuff,” she says, glancing up the stairs. “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
I head upstairs, chocolate in one hand, brushes in the other. One of the doors is painted bright fuchsia and has a giant glittery “E” slapped in the middle. Yeah, no doubt, that’s her.
I knock. Twice.
“Go away!” Her voice is muffled and 100% wrecked.
“But I brought your two favorite things: brushes and chocolate.”
Silence. Then I hear her footsteps running toward the door—best damn sound I’ve ever heard.
She swings it open. Her eyes are red and puffy, lips trembling. God, she looks like a mess. A heartbreakingly beautiful one.
“Come here,” I say, opening my arms.
She crashes into me like she’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. “I didn’t get in,” she whimpers against my chest.
“I know.”
