Page 17

“Do you regret it?” I ask anyway. “I mean, us?”

His eyes flicker. He hesitates for a split second. “Yes,” he says, and something inside me breaks.

I lift my chin, desperately trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to overflow. “Good. We already have enough problems. We don’t need another one.”

He’s silent, but I can see that he understands what I’m trying to say. If he regrets it, we don’t need to worry that it could happen again or that there might really have been something between us. We don’t need to worry about the fluttering in my stomach because he’s too close to me, and we don’t need to worry about his gaze resting on my mouth again.

“No, we really don’t,” he says at last. “See you tomorrow in class, Ophelia.” He turns away, his steps smooth, his shoulders tense.

I watch him leave the studio. My hand twitches automatically to my neck and grasps at thin air.

Interlude

Phoenix

July 3, 12:03 AM

“Tell me something true about yourself.” Ophelia’s voice is soft and a little sleepy, but it still gives me goose bumps. Her fingertips trace gentle circles on my chest.

“Something true?”

“Yes. Something that no one else knows.”

I can’t help but tense up. “Why?”

She lifts her head, her blond hair falling like a silky curtain around her face, even though it’s not as smooth as before but a little tangled and tousled from what we just did. That’s fine with me. Her gaze is open and clear, her eyes infinitely green. “Because you’ll never see me again. Your secrets are safe with me.”

I remain silent. In fact, I have the impression that she actually wants to confide her secrets to me.

“Maybe. But why do you want to know them?”

She sits up, pulling the sheet with her and wrapping it around her naked body. “I burn my own secrets, but I could keep yours.”

“You burn your secrets?” Now I sit up too, leaning against the headboard, looking at her curiously.

She shrugs her petite shoulders. “Yes.”

“Which secrets?”

“All of them.”

“Why?”

“So that no one will know what’s going on in my head.”

“Will you tell me what they are?” I ask, suddenly wanting badly for her to do it.

A subtle smile plays around her lips. “I’ve already told you two true things about myself. You owe me.”

I hesitate only briefly. “I don’t want to be here.”

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You don’t want to be here?”

I have to grin when I realize what she must be thinking. “In Boston, I mean. I don’t want to be here in Boston.” But I want to be here with her. In this bed.

“Then why are you?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”