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“So you’d rather torture her by making her fall more in love with you so you can dump her right before you leave. That’s real great!”

“Let's make sure you're staying for the right reasons. Prove to me you don't want her.”

“This is how I'll convince you? Having sex with you? Little desperate, don’t you think?”

“Aw. Let's be friends, Jonathan. All the benefits you'll ever need. And she’ll never know that you’re a person of interest—”

I yank her against me by the open lapel and growl, “I get it.”

Fuck. Emma has this whole story about us that isn’t even close to the truth. Did she make it up, assume it, or has Rachel been feeding her bullshit this entire time? I don’t have to think too hard about that answer.

“Emma, please don’t be mad at me. It’s not what I want, really. I just… wasn’t ready.” To leave you alone with her is left unsaid. Among so many other things. Why can’t she see what’s really going on?

Rachel unbuttons the rest of the shirt, setting a hand on her bare hip and the other on my chest.

“Stay and play. Or walk out that door. Out of both of our lives for good.”

I don’t move.

She reaches into my pants—I tense.

“Good choice.”

She tugs on my shirt, pushing it up, and I yank it off, glaring at her. Rachel only smiles wider.

“Prolonging the inevitable isn’t helping her,” Emma says, like she knows the inner workings of her mother. “It’s torturing her. You can’t protect her forever. You’re coddling her.”

I bite back the sardonic laugh.

“And you aren’t?” This shuts her up. “Emma, you clean up after her when she throws a fit; you comfort her when she’s irresponsible, and the other night she basically accused you of ruining her life. You’re protecting her as much as I am.”

“It’s our turn to spend some time together on this couch.”

I convince myself that it’s just sex. It doesn't mean anything. I only need to stay long enough to persuade Emma to leave.

I give in—submit to the whispering hiss of her slithering tongue.

I shut off my mind. My emotions. And let her have my body.

Emma’s stunned speechless. Maybe that was too harsh. I need her to open her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I pull into the school parking lot, and I’m thrown back into the bustle of students and teachers arriving. Hanging out in the lot. Making out in cars. Buses dropping off the underclassmen. I stop at a random walkway, not bothering to follow the drop-off protocol. Whatever.

I put the truck in park so I can face Emma.

“So how do we fix this?” she asks me. I got through to her. Thank Christ. “Besides having sex with her.”

I ignore her writhing beneath me. The exaggerated moans. I don’t kiss her. I lock myself away in a place she cannot touch.

The slam of the front door breaks the hollow void I trapped myself in. I stare down at Rachel, realizing Emma just saw us. She’s… smiling.

Now I’m speechless. I’ve no doubt she thought we’d been having sex since the first night I stayed over, considering how much Rachel lies to her. But to walk in on the first time… it must’ve messed with her. The endless shame of what I allowed to happen will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I told Emma I couldn’t do this anymore.

And I can’t.