Chapter 3

I wake to an arm around my waist.

For a moment, I don't know why my whole body goes rigid.

Then Ryan presses his face against my neck.

"Hey, baby."

He smells like alcohol and someone else's perfume.

I pull away.

"What time is it?"

"Early."

He tries to turn me toward him.

I put a hand against his chest.

"Don't."

He pauses.

Then he smiles.

"What? You mad I woke you up?"

"I said don't."

I sit up and move toward the edge of the bed.

He catches my waist.

"Come here."

"Let go."

"Claire."

There's irritation in my name now.

I've heard it before.

Usually, I explain. Soften my voice. Find a way to make saying no feel less like an insult to him.

Today, I take his hand off me.

He sits up.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't want you touching me."

He looks at me as if I've spoken in a language he doesn't recognize.

"Okay. Wow."

I reach for the robe hanging from the bedpost.

He catches my wrist.

"Look at me."

"I am."

"You don't show up for my birthday, and now you're acting like I did something?"

I stare at him.

He waits.

Actually waits for me to apologize.

"I had a long night," I say. "Move."

He gives a short laugh.

"So did I. Doesn't mean I'm taking it out on you."

He pulls me toward him.

I brace my free hand against his shoulder.

"Ryan. Stop."

"Would you relax?"

He leans in.

I turn my face away.

His fingers tighten around my wrist.

I slap him.

The sound makes us both freeze.

He lets go.

I get off the bed.

For a second, he only sits there, one hand against his cheek.

Then he looks up.

"What the hell?"

"I told you to stop."

"You hit me."

"You wouldn't let go."

He throws back the covers and stands.

I move toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

I stop on the other side of the dresser, keeping it between us.

"We're done, Ryan."

His expression changes.

Then he laughs.

"Oh, come on."

"I'm breaking up with you."

"Because I tried to kiss my girlfriend?"

"Because I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore."

He stares at me.

I imagined this conversation on the walk home.

In the shower.

In the dark before I finally fell asleep.

In every version, the words were harder to say.

Now they're out, and I don't want to take them back.

"You need to calm down," he says.

"I need you to stay away from me."

He runs a hand through his hair.

"Fine. Go wash your face. We'll talk when you're awake."

I take my phone into the bathroom and lock the door.

For a minute, I stand with both hands on the sink.

Then I wash my face.

Brush my teeth.

Get dressed.

When I come out, Ryan is in the living room, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up.

"Better?"

I walk into the kitchen.

I have no idea whether I'm hungry. I only know I need something solid to do.

Bread in the toaster.

A glass from the cabinet.

Milk from the fridge.

Ryan follows me.

"Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?"

"I've told you what I want."

"And I'm telling you we're not breaking up over whatever mood you woke up in."

I pour the milk.

He takes the glass before I can pick it up.

"Talk to me."

"Put it down."

"Give me a reason."

I look at his hand around the glass.

Yesterday, I would have worried about how angry he was getting.

Today, I notice that he could set it down whenever he wants.

He's choosing not to.

"Do you remember what you promised me?" I ask.

He frowns.

"About what?"

"The videos."

His fingers shift against the glass.

"What about them?"

"You said no one else would ever see them."

For the first time since he got home, he has nothing ready to say.

I watch his face.

"You showed your friends."

"No, I—"

"I was there."

His mouth stays open.

"The bar," I say. "Outside the room."

"You were working."

"I traded shifts. I brought you a cake."

He puts the glass down too hard.

Milk spills over the rim.

Neither of us looks at it.

"You came to the bar?"

"Yes."

"And you just stood outside listening?"

I stare at him.

He shakes his head.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?"

"Would that have changed what you'd already done?"

"You let me make an idiot of myself."

There it is.

Not what he did to me.

What I let him do.

I push the untouched glass away.

"You managed that without my help."