It’s been only four days since my bike ride with Brendan, but it feels as if something has shifted inside me. Like hearing a song from high school and being catapulted back in time, I’m beginning to remember who I once was, the person I left behind in the process of becoming the person Rob wanted me to be. I’m angry at myself for letting that version of me slip away.

Harper is sitting on my desk, eating the cookies I brought in and offering a far-too-detailed description of her date last night with a guy who hadn’t shaved (“He went down on me, and it was like someone was scrubbing my vagina with fucking sandpaper.”) when Brendan texts, asking if I want to bike this weekend. Harper reads over my shoulder as I reply, having no concerns with privacy—her own or anyone else’s.

“Texting the new boyfriend, huh?” she asks with a smirk.

“He is not my boyfriend. As you know.”

“Oops. I meant to say ‘texting the guy who you’ve masturbated to thoughts of for the past month’. Oh, wait, maybe that was just me.”

I bury my face in my hands. “I went to Catholic school, Harper. I’m still not ready for 90 percent of what comes out of your mouth.”

“Speaking of groups of people who need to get laid, you’re still coming out with me Saturday, right?” Harper has somehow scored an invite to a private party for a bunch of the Broncos, which I honestly have no desire to attend.

“I’m not going out with you to get laid.”

“Obviously,” she says, as if offended. “I was referring to myself.”

“Since when do you like football, anyway?”

“I don’t have to like football to enjoy a guy with a perfect ass and a big dick,” she replies.

So it’s going to be that kind of night. At least I know it’ll be a short one.

* * *

On Saturday morning I bike with Brendan again. We stop at a restaurant for brunch on the way back. I’m not sure which of us suggests it, but I know I’m relieved. I’m fine with Brendan in public. It’s in private that my mind starts to go haywire.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” he asks. “Romantic dinner, just you and Mr. Tibbles?”

“I’m going out, I’ll have you know.”

“Cool,” he says, spearing a home fry off my plate. “I didn’t know the library had extended its hours.”

“To a bar, asshole. A bar with men in it. Football players, to be more precise.”

His cocky smile dims. “What football players?”

“Broncos. It’s some party at a club Harper got us an invite to.”

He looks at me warily. “It’s good that you’re going out but, you know…baby steps.”

“Brendan, I’m not bringing one of them home. I’m just attending something.”

“I just…” he trails off, frowning. “There are a lot of guys out there who have a way of getting what they want.”

I roll my eyes. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t mean getting what they want by persuasion, Erin. I mean they get a girl into a situation where it’s hard to say no or where it won’t matter if she says no.”

“I’m not stupid. It’s not like I’m going to go up to someone’s apartment ‘for a drink’ or whatever.”

“Just…be careful, okay? Don’t drink anything you don’t watch being made by the bartender. And don’t leave by yourself. Make your friend walk you to your car. Or a bouncer. Or call me.”

“You’re going to drive down there in the middle of the night and walk me to my car?” I ask.

“A, it had better not be the middle of the night when you’re going home, and B, yes, without a single snide comment, I will drive down there. Promise me, Erin.”

“Brendan, I promise that if I feel unsafe in any way, I’ll do something about it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes, but that’s all I’m willing to agree to.”

He groans. “Thank God I’m never having kids. If one of them was as big a pain in the ass as you I don’t know how I’d cope.”

“Why do you care all of a sudden?” I ask with an exasperated laugh. “You didn’t even like me until a few weeks ago.”

He looks at me, eyes wide and serious. He looks upset, and his mouth opens as if he plans to argue before he stops himself. “Maybe you won me over with the coconut bars,” he says, and anything earnest in his face is buried beneath his standard cocky grin.

It’s not what he was going to say, and I really wish, just this once, he’d have told me the truth.