I just love puppies.

Before my neighbor, Dylan Price, left for college, he stopped me in my tracks. His head was bowed, ears flushed crimson, as he mumbled, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

I simply turned away, tossing over my shoulder, "I like *mature* men."

Five years later, he pinned me against a wall, his hand cupping my chin, forcing me to look away—

My boyfriend was intimately wrapping his arm around another woman’s waist, leisurely browsing in a luxury store.

"Is *that* the mature man you like, Avery?" Dylan whispered, his hot breath making my scalp prickle.

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