I wasn’t this woman. I wasn’t the person who fell for someone’s charms or looks. I gave a shit about what was underneath, so why did I allow this type of shit to happen?

He nuzzled my neck, and I inhaled him. He worked his hand over my breast, and I gripped the back of his neck, dug my fingernails into his flesh. He sucked on my collarbone, and I gasped, threw my head back. Enjoyed it.

Enjoyed this moment outside a friggin’ bar in New York City, under a tree where we could be spotted at any second.

“Noah, this is crazy. We’re not meant for each other.” I cringed the instant I’d said it.

“Meant for each other? No. Meant for each other right now, yeah, probably. I want you,” Noah replied, and the gravel in his tone threatened to overpower me. “I want you up against this fucking tree, right now. I want to eat your pussy until you scream so loud everyone hears it.” He worked the front of my camisole down and unleashed one of my breasts.

He sucked the cool nipple between his hot lips, and I was transported to another place, another world. The scrape of the tree trunk against my back, and the sounds of traffic in the street behind the bar were the only reminders that we weren’t somewhere safe. Not back in his apartment or my room, but outside, doing something we shouldn’t have entertained.

“You want that,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I want that.” I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything in a month. “I want that.”

“You want me. Because you’re mine.”

The echo of the past brought me right back to the present. I snapped my eyes open and stiffened.

Noah immediately straightened and looked me in the eye. I dropped my leg from where it’d been hooked around his hips. “No,” I said, shaking my head to drive the point home physically too. “I’m not yours. I’m not yours, Noah.” I dragged the camisole back into place and covered my breast. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You see me as a conquest, as something untouchable and now you want to take me and break me, just like you did in high school.”

“I didn’t touch you in high school,” he replied.

“You know what I’m talking about.” The other girls. The popular cheerleaders and the doting fans of the almighty Noah Cox.

“I’m not that person anymore. C’mon, Erika, it’s been seventeen years since high school. Let it go.”

But how he’d been then was all I had to go on for his behavior now, and, needless to say, he’d left a very strong impression on me. “I’m not interested in being anybody’s. The only person I belong to is me. For fuck’s sakes, we’re in our thirties. These games have to end before someone gets hurt.”

Noah raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, no doubt to say something cocky, but his phone rang before he got it out. He pushed off from the tree, unpinning me, and relieving the pressure that’d built between us.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the phone. Guilt flashed across those perfect features, the slightly hooked nose, the lips, not too thin, not too full. “It’s Marc,” he said and answered before I could make my escape. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and listened to the hum of Marc’s voice on the other end of the line. What the hell are you doing, Erika? Allowing some high-school crush and annoyance to distract me from everything I’d worked to achieve.

Distance myself from emotion, focus on work, do what I wanted and, when the time was right, consider my options for treatment. Or the alternatives.

“Yeah, I know, man. Is it going well?” Noah nodded and laughed loudly. “Yeah, I bet. Oh shit, for real? Back that soon? Yeah, man, I’m totally free then. I’ll be waiting when you and Jess get back from paradise. Sure, sure.” Another chuckle. “Just hanging out at the Blitzer.”

Marc said something again, and Noah schooled his face to calm. He was a blank-paged book. Of course he was. And what was I waiting for here? I pushed off from the tree and set off walking back toward the bar.

Luna had left to give us a chance to talk and to refill our drinks. Hopefully she’d be back by now.

“Gotta go, man. Have a good one.” Noah spoke behind me, and I quickened my pace. There was a shuffle, followed by footsteps. “Erika, wait.”

“No,” I said, and kept up the pace.

Noah caught me anyway. He took hold of my arm and turned me toward him again, this time in full view of the bar. “Stop walking away from me,” he said.

“Last time it was you who walked away,” I replied.

“Is that what this is about?”

“No. It’s not about anything. It’s just—not anything we need to discuss. This is over, Noah. I’m going home now, and I’ll probably see you at work.” Unfortunately. “I suggest we give each other a wide berth. It’s clear neither of us can handle the intensity of whatever this is.”

“This, huh?” He cocked his head to one side, and the grin returned.

“For god’s sake,” I said, but I couldn’t help the small smile. He was incorrigible. “Good night, Dr. Cox.” I made for the steps, shaking my ass for good measure. He could kiss it for all I cared. And the weird squirmy feelings that possessed me whenever he was in range? Well, they could kiss my ass too.

Don’t fall into that trap again. Don’t do it.

And I wouldn’t.

I shoved thoughts of Noah aside. I needed to get home, prepare for work tomorrow, and get some good sleep. My dreams were the only thing I had to worry about, in more than one way.

Erika – Aged 17

---

I sat on the edge of my bed, moonlight streaming through the open windows, paging through the journal I’d finally filled up to the brim. I traced my fingers over the pages, over the words I’d written, the outpourings of the darkest corners of my heart.

His name was on every page, and it made me even angrier. Angry that I’d let him get this hold over me. That he ignored me.

“Don’t be pathetic,” I murmured, staring at the picture of him I’d pasted on the last page. I uncapped a magic marker and scratched an X over his face, as if that would somehow rid me of the feelings I’d grown for him.

I hurried to the window, opened it, and peered out at the yard. The willow next to the small pond drooped over the water, melancholy in the relative darkness. The house was asleep around me. I’d chosen 1:00 a.m. for this, and it kinda made me feel like I had a purpose.

It was a dumbass purpose, but this was the moment I’d change everything.

I’d get rid of this dumb obsession of a guy I despised.

I positioned the wastepaper basket on my desk, then rushed to check my door was locked. “OK, all clear,” I said, and adjusted my glasses on my nose. “Let’s do this.”

Next, came the matches, the kindling—bits of newspaper—and the tiny bit of whiskey I’d stolen from my dad’s bar collection. I inhaled, then set everything up. I dropped the match into the bin, and the fire whooshed to life, burning hot and fast. I fed a few twigs into it and hoped for the best. I wasn’t exactly a master fire-starter.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered and opened the journal. I ripped out the first few pages and sprinkled them into the fire. They curled around the edges, blackened, and shrank. It was the weirdest sensation, watching them burn. The thoughts, dreams, fantasies I’d recorded turned to ash.

“Good. That’s good.” As if I could convince myself this would actually work. I kept ripping and feeding the fire, my face warmed by its glow. Finally, I reached the last page, the picture of Noah—in his high-school football gear, grinning like a loon. School photo, pulled from the yearbook.

Yeah, I was that lame.

I stared at it for a couple seconds, taking in his features. I traced them once, shook my head, and held the picture over the fire.

“Is that me?” Noah’s gruff rumble floated through the open window.

I let out a squeak and dropped the picture. It hit the rim of the bin and flopped past it, onto the fluffy purple carpet in my bedroom.

Noah came through the open window, forcing his massive body through the gap and uncurling himself to his full height once inside. He bent and lifted the picture from the floor, just as I dove for it. My hand thwacked him in the stomach, but he didn’t notice.

“It is me,” he said, and flashed the picture at me, grinning. “Having a late-night ritual, Erika?”

“Shut up,” I snapped, coloring as red as a tomato. “What do you want, asshole? Marc’s not here.”

Noah looked from the picture to me, lazily. “I didn’t come to see Marc,” he said.

I opened my mouth but there was no reply forthcoming. If he wasn’t here for Marc…

“You often do this kind of thing?” he asked, gesturing to the bin with the picture. He turned the page over and read the last few lines of my journal entry. “I need to get rid of this feeling. It’s like I can’t stop thinking about him,” he read out loud. “And just when I think I’m fine, I see him in the living room or hanging out with Marc in the garden, and I’m back to square one. I’m done with you, Noah Cox. Done hating you. Done wanting you.”

Oh. My. God. Mortification traveled through me like a nuclear shockwave. It took all my energy not to crumple in on myself right there. Instead, I snatched the page from his hand and dropped it into the dying fire. The flames flared up again and ate the page.

Silence reigned between us, and I searched for anything to say that would take the attention off what he’d just read. The crackle of flames broke the quiet.

“Done with me,” Noah said. “Is that true? You’re done with me?”

I choked on my words.

“How can you be done with me if we never even started?”

Oh Jesus, take me. Seriously, take me now. But I was here, and there was nowhere I could hide from this moment. I squared my shoulders. “What are you doing here, Noah?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said. “Good thing you’re done with me.” Was that bitterness in his voice?

“Good for you.” I folded my arms.

“How long have you been done with me for?”

“Why do you care?” I countered.

“Why do I—?” Noah released a laugh, then walked toward me, two powerful steps. He ripped my glasses from my face and placed them on the table. He took me by the arms and pulled me close to his chest, ran fingers down my throat, my shoulders. “Why do I care?” he repeated.

I lifted my chin. “What are you—?”

His lips settled on mine before I could finish the sentence. His tongue parted them, and he deepened the kiss. Heat erupted between us. I threw my arms around his neck and settled into the kiss. He bit my bottom lip and sucked it, then released me and stepped back, fast.

I wobbled on the spot, staring at him, wide-eyed. “What the—? What was that?”

He chuckled. “Done with me,” he said, nodding. “I’m done with you too.” And then he turned and climbed out of the window, disappeared across the darkened lawn.

I sank to the fluffy carpet, shaking from head to toe.