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“You’re the only person in Boston I’ve ever talked to about him.”

I tense at her words. She’s been at the New England School of Ballet since her first semester, and the thought that she hasn’t told any of her friends about Sam in three years is painful in a different way.

“I went to New York because I couldn’t stay here anymore,” I say, because I’m sure she understands what I’m trying to tell her without me having to say it. She’s the only one I want to talk to. “Boston suffocated me. The city, the people, our families. I couldn’t stay. I was too weak.” The last words taste bitter on my tongue.

“It’s not weak to make a decision for yourself. If it felt right to you, if you had to leave to survive, then it definitely wasn’t weak.”

I don’t answer, because she’s both right and so damn wrong at the same time. But how can she know that when I’m only telling her part of the truth and not the whole story?

Tell her. Don’t tell her. Tell her.

The voice in my head is pleading and demanding at the same time, both seductive and warning. It doesn’t know what it wants. But I know the truth would destroy what Lia and I have right here and now, before it’s even really begun.

It would be better that way.

Tell her.

Don’t tell her.

End it now.

My heart is racing, and I make a decision. It’s a selfish one; that’s the kind I’m best at. It’s a decision that will ruin everything sooner or later, but right now I don’t give a damn. What I told her was true.

I feel a little less bad when I’m with her. A little less trapped. A little more alive.

And that’s why I say it. “Stay here tonight.”

Stay here. Wake up with me tomorrow morning. Don’t run away like last time. Stay with me.

Lia lifts her head, and her gaze meets mine.

Stone by stone.

Secret for secret.

“Okay.”

Interlude

Phoenix

July 3, 5:29 AM

The light of sunrise wakes me. Yawning, I open my eyes and squint against the brightness. It’s too early. Much too early—the sun still low in the sky. My body feels heavy. I sit up to get out of bed and close the curtains, hoping I’m the only one who was woken up by the sun. Then I see the empty space next to me.

Ophelia is gone.

My pulse races, and suddenly I’m wide awake. She’s gone. Her dress is gone, and the mattress next to me is cold. I look over at the bathroom, but the door is open, and she’s not there.

Stay. Promise?

I promise.

Fuck promises. She’s gone, and I shouldn’t care. Shit, I really shouldn’t. We met at a party and had sex. And then we talked and danced in the rain and talked some more.

Damn.

There’s a knot in my stomach, and I have no idea why she just walked away.