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“Hang on,” he says.

Soft fabric slips between my legs—he’s using a spare T-shirt to clean me off.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

I turn to look at him. His eyes are serious, face sober as a funeral.

I nod. “Yes. Thank you.”

As soon as I say it, I grimace. I was thanking him for cleaning me off, but it sounds like I was thanking him for...the other thing.

I can’t stand the humiliation and awkwardness for even a moment more. “I need to go,” I whisper, and then I step around him and walk as fast as I possibly can to the bathroom.

He came on my underwear. Can I get pregnant that way? Probably. I slide it off my legs and then shove it in the trash can, burying it under paper towels as if I can separate myself from what I’ve done. When I return to the library, he’s gone. The scrunchy that sat on top of my books is gone too. In its place is a note: Now unblock me.

The smile on my face is entirely unreasonable.

I’m still dumbfounded that I let this happen. My parents would be horrified. Ashamed. They’d tell me I was walking down the same path as Mary Joyce, and they’d be right. I’d probably get sent away, and perhaps I’d never return from it either—like Mary Joyce, again.

And yet, when I think about the way he cursed when he felt me, when I remember that low, tortured sound he made as he came, and what it felt like to fall apart with his finger inside me...I can’t bring myself to regret it. In a life that has felt completely devoid of magic for a long time, it suddenly holds more of it than I could possibly imagine.

I’ve heard since I was small about men outside the Covenant. They want nothing more than to lead you astray.

They are driven by their desires without regard for others, without regard for their souls. They will say and do the right things until you’re under their thumb, then act as if they don’t know you the next day.

It happened to a girl in Ann’s sister’s cohort. She met a boy online and after weeks of conversation, he said he wanted to marry her. She ran off with him in the middle of the night and woke in their hotel room the next morning alone.

I think Ford isn’t like that.

But that girl Ann’s sister knew probably thought the same thing.

I unblock him shortly after I get home. A message from him arrives seconds later.

FORD

Thank you. I’m sorry you got the wrong idea about me and Amanda. You could have just asked.

ME

You could have just explained things. I still don’t know what changed. You said you couldn’t talk to me anymore, then you could, and then you were dating Amanda. That’s all I knew.

I’m sorry. Things were tough with Leila, and I felt like shit when I found out why she was hospitalized. If I were a better person, I’d stay away from you. I just can’t do it.

He probably should. I don’t want Leila’s psychological well-being on my head. I consider telling him this, but ultimately, I’m selfish. I want to keep seeing him too badly to make the suggestion. I guess I’m no better than he is.

Is Alex taking you to the dance?

We’re all going as a group.

First, I gotta deal with Daniel’s pathetic crush on you each day in English—now this.

Daniel doesn’t have a crush on me.

You’re blind.

Anyway, Alex *thinks* he’s taking you to the dance. You might want to correct that.

Says the guy who’s got a date.