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“Okay.” The words spilled out. “I didn’t fake it at first, and I never meant to, but it was really hard for me to come with someone else — with anyone else. I just couldn’t let go.” I buried my face in the pillow. “I started — I started faking it with Dexter. He kept pushing me to say how much I was into what he was doing. It was exhausting. I got tired. Finally, I gave up and pretended.”
“Little shit,” Patrick muttered.
“I don’t like running into him.”
“Of course you don’t. He’s a lizard.”
“Supposedly we’re friends.” The photos on the wall smiled down on me. I’d stripped away all the pictures of Dexter in December. “He doesn’t feel like one. I can’t avoid him. We’re in Student Senate and we’re both in the business school. His band had a show a few weeks ago and he wrote this stupid song about me, like it was a huge compliment, but it was actually — God, I can’t lie. It was offensive.”
“I know,” Patrick said quietly. “I heard it.”
“You were there? Why didn’t you say something?”
He sighed. “Didn’t seem like it was worth talking about.”
I stiffened in Patrick’s arms. “He keeps saying he cares about me. I don’t understand why he’s hanging on.”
“Christina, breathe. You’re all wound up.” The order went straight to my core. I sighed, my body loosening in Patrick’s embrace. His voice softened. “You don’t have to pretend to be friends. That doesn’t do anyone any fucking favors.”
“I like to get along with people.”
“At your own expense. Has your pet called to see how you’re doing?”
“Patrick…”
“All I’m saying is, there’s no law that you have to be friends. I’m not going to get coffee with Jess. We’re not going to have a cute little catch-up session. There’s no point.”
“So sheisyour ex.”
He teased my bellybutton, and I squirmed in his arms. “Sophomore year. And you were right on the money about the sex.”
His word choice made me wince. “Did you…ever try to tell her what you like?” He shook his head against mine. I curled up in his arms, my body pressed to his. “Did you fantasize about being mean in bed so you could get off? With girls, before—”Italy,I didn’t finish.
“Mostly.” His voice was so matter-of-fact. Distant, like all those experiences were long in the past and didn’t count anymore.
“Your turn to tell me a story.”
His lips grazed my ear. “I thought I was going to read to you.”
“I want a story too.”
“You really are a brat, Christina. You’re a greedy girl.”
“Mm-hm. That's me.”
“Once upon a time,” he began softly, “There was a big, bad, hungry wolf. He lived all alone in the forest, and there was a particular little girl he wanted to capture.”
My stomach fluttered. The throbbing grew stronger.
“Why did the wolf live alone?” I asked.
“You’re interrupting.”
“I thought he lived with all his wolf fraternity brothers.”
Patrick snorted. “Okay, there were packs of wolves that ran in the forest. At one time, the big bad wolf was part of a pack. But he lost touch. He took a different path, and when he came back, all the packs looked the same. And he didn’t belong to any of them.”
“Oh.” I touched the inside of Patrick's wrist. There was so much behind those words. “What about the big bad wolf's family?”
