The bus takes forever. All I want to do is scream, but I'm surrounded by strangers. Screaming would get me a quick trip to the police station or maybe the psych ward.

I get off two stops early and walk to my apartment. It's dark. There's nothing around me to keep my attention off that asshole, so I cover my ears with headphones and listen to anything but rock music.

It's cold tonight, but I don't feel it. I'm hot all over. It's like my blood is really boiling. I knew there was bullshit to everything Miles said, but to listen to my story about Rosie and tell me I can talk to him, that I can trust him…

I'm too pissed to take the elevator. I storm up the stairs to my apartment, key in hand. I need to be somewhere else. The hallway is too small. It can't contain the anger welling up in my gut.

Fuck.

He's here. Miles is leaning against my door. At a glance, he's the picture of cool and contained—worn jeans, messy brown hair hanging in front of his piercing blue eyes, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

But there are signs of frustration on his face. In his furrowed brow, his heavy eyes, the purse of his lips.

It's not my problem. He had every chance to tell me this. He's the one who caused this frustration.

I hold my ground. "Get out of my way."

He doesn't. He grabs my shoulders and leans in close. "I'm going to explain."

I push past him, sliding my key into the lock. "Explain it to the door."

His grip tightens as he holds me in place. "Listen."

"No."

I reach for the doorknob. He grabs my wrist and holds on tightly.

My heartbeat picks up. My body is confused. It thinks this means he's about to throw me against the wall and rip off my panties. But that isn't happening.

That isn't happening ever again.

His expression is desperate. "I'm not leaving until I explain."

I consider kicking him. A swift knee to the balls would do wonders to push him off. But I can't bring myself to put him out of commission.

I fight his grip. "Let me go."

He does. But then he opens the door and steps inside.

He's in my apartment, like I'm the one who owes him something.

He pulls the door wider. "You coming in?"

"What if I don't?"

"I'll have to chase you wherever you go."

"That sounds annoying."

He motions for me to come inside. "You could save yourself some time here."

I bite my lip. Fine. It might be amusing to see him try and explain his way out of this.

I step inside.

Miles slams the door shut and presses me against it. "Sit down and listen."

"Hard to move when you're pinning me to the wall." I close my eyes. I'm not going down this road again.

"Fair enough." Miles takes a tiny step back. "But I'm not leaving until we discuss this."

"Did the definition of discuss change recently? 'Cause last time I checked, it involves two people exchanging opinions, not one person sitting down and listening."

"Meg."

"Miles." I do sit down, but I'm not necessarily going to listen. "You better make this good. I have to study."

He sighs. "I knew this would happen."

"You mean that lying would blow up in your face? How the hell did you guess that one?"

"That you'd overreact to my recovery."

Acid churns in my stomach. "Fuck you."

"I almost told you that night in Malibu, but I couldn't bring myself to add to your anger."

I stare at the window. There's nothing to see except the dark blue sky. "Take responsibility for your decisions. You didn't tell me because you wanted to fuck me again."

"I could have fucked you right there."

"Fine. Because you wanted this, whatever you call it, to continue."

"Meg."

"No lies, no secrets. That was our deal. But you still kept this a secret."

"I didn't want to upset you."

I try to stay calm. He's smarter than this. He must know he's full of shit.

I stare back at Miles. "You fucked that up. I'm upset."

He has no smart-ass response.

"You don't even respect me enough to admit you lied."

"It's not like that."

"Then look me in the eyes and apologize for keeping this from me."

"You would've ended things."

"That's not an apology." I turn away from him. "You should go."

"Meg—"

"You don't trust me. I don't trust you." My heart is in my throat. I take a deep breath, anything to keep my voice steady. "What the hell are we doing this for?"

His eyes turn towards mine. "I couldn't tell you. It still hurt too much." He slides his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Miles, but you were so clear yesterday. Today, too. I'm 'some girl' to you. And you want to deal with everything alone. Where the hell is there room for me in that?"

He sighs. "I guess you're right."

My stomach drops. He's not fighting this. Not at all. That's how little I mean to him.

Miles lowers his voice. "We should have ended this earlier. Now, feelings are getting involved."

"Excuse you?"

"Tom was right. The way you're looking at me—"

"Fuck off." I shift so I'm staring right into his eyes. "Feelings are getting involved? Feelings have been involved. What the hell do you call holding me all night? Or promising I can tell you anything? You insisted on meeting my parents. You promised you cared about me. You stared into my eyes and kissed me like you loved me. What the hell do you call that?"

"I didn't mean to lead you on."

He's still so fucking calm.

"Yes, you did," I say. "You get off on me caring about you."

"Meg."

"Do you love me?"

His lips curl into a frown. "I told you when this started—I don't do relationships."

"No, you just treat me like your girlfriend and act like my boyfriend and expect me to know the fucking difference!" I stare through him the way he stares through me. "It doesn't matter. You don't respect me. You throw away my feelings. You lie right to my face. You're nothing to me."

He folds his arms.

"I'm not putting up with it anymore. Go. Away. Now."

"Is that really what you want?"

No. I want him to apologize. To mean it. I want him to convince me he loves me and respects me.

That isn't going to happen. That means he needs to leave.

My breath is choppy, but I fight it. This is the last thing I need to get out. "Yes."

"Fine." He pulls the door open and steps into the hallway.

And he's gone.