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But it isn’t either of them.

Lia is standing in the hallway, her hair in a messy bun, looking completely different than she always does in class. Under her wool coat, I can see the school hoodie she’s wearing over some kind of dress or skirt. I can only see thin, fluttery fabric and even thinner tights, which are completely unsuitable for the weather outside. My gaze lingers on her hoodie again. It’s just like the one that’s still somewhere in my own closet. I haven’t worn it since I moved to New York.

Too many memories. Isabel was always the one who stole it from me to wear it. It was much too big for her.

A quick, sharp stab of pain shoots through my heart. Images flood my mind and then fade away as soon as I look at the girl who’s standing in front of me.

“Hey.” She’s the first to find her voice again. The look in her green eyes reveals too much and at the same time absolutely nothing.

“What are you doing here?” I ask hoarsely. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t even remember my damn address. But she does. She knows where I live, and now she’s here. I know why she must have come, but I desperately hope there’s another reason.

Damn hypocrite.

She awkwardly pulls something out of her jacket pocket, which I only recognize as my phone after looking twice. Of course. “You forgot this. I thought you might need it.”

“Thanks.” I take it and slip it into my pocket without even glancing at the display.

She nods briefly. “Then . . . see you tomorrow,” she says, but something in her voice, an undertone of insecurity, betrays her. She hesitates briefly before turning away and hurrying back through the narrow hallway to the elevator.

I watch her go and can’t bring myself to close the door and let her leave.

Don’t do it. Don’t you dare.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t speak very loudly, but she hears me anyway.

Her steps slow down, and she hesitates again, then stops and turns around. Her back is straight, her chin jutting out. She’s put her wall back up, I can see it. Cool gaze, controlled expression, no feelings. It’s awful. And it makes me a little sick that I care this much, which I really shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care about Lia, but I could only convince myself I didn’t for about five minutes when we first met in the theater, and then it was basically pointless.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, and there’s really only one right answer.

The kiss. The loss of control. Forgetting who we are and what is absolutely taboo for us.

I say something else. Something I should keep to myself. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

Her chin softens, her wall crumbles, but it doesn’t fall. Not yet. I want it to fall.

“I’m sorry I kissed you and then just took off,” I continue, even though I didn’t kiss her—we kissed each other. But what does it matter? Our lips met, we breathed each other’s air; it doesn’t matter who kissed whom first.

“Then why did you do it?” She takes a step back toward me, purely out of instinct. I don’t think she’s aware of it.

“Why did I kiss you, or why did I leave?” I keep skirting the issue in a last foolish attempt to get out of something I don’t want to get out of at all. If I did, I would have just kept my mouth shut.

She takes another step. “Both.”

Of course it’s both. If I were in her place, I’d want to know the same thing.

Don’t tell her. Shut up. Don’t make it any more complicated than it already is. Send her away. Let her go.

Frustrated, I run my hand through my hair. I should listen to that voice, to my own damn conscience. But the urge to get close to her is stronger. “I kissed you because I’m an idiot. And I ran away . . . for the same reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?” Her brows rise. It’s not exactly the answer she wants to hear.

“Exactly.”

“Try again.” She’s turning the tables on me, which I guess I deserve.

“My life is too complicated. That’s why I left,” I reply, still being too vague because I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth. The whole truth. The truth that not only is complicated but also hurts like hell and would change everything. Lia has no idea what happened or what I did. If she finds out, she won’t look at me that way anymore, with that look that haunts my dreams and makes me forget how fucking lonely I’ve felt these past few years.

“My life is complicated too,” she shoots back. Two steps closer. “That’s not a valid reason.”