I was so freaking depressed.

It was humiliating how sad I was about the whole thing.

I still checked my phone relentlessly even though I’d been away from Seattle for a couple nights and hadn’t gotten a single text from Gavin.

In my fantasies he would have shown up at the rental apartment and swept me off my feet, declared his love for me and told me how much he wanted me.

In reality I was back in my familiar apartment just a few blocks from Oak Ridge University.

It was much colder than in Seattle, and there was a little snow on the ground.

I never thought I’d say it, but I missed the rain.

Wednesday morning I woke up alone in my bed and didn’t feel like getting up.

I’d gotten in late the night before, and other than calling Peg’s Music to cancel the rest of my lessons. She insisted on refunding me the rest of my money even though I told her I wasn’t too worried about it.

It made me feel worse, that strange unspoken tension in her voice confirmed the worst for me. She knew that I was Gavin’s one night stand of the week, and that he wasn’t interested in me at all.

She almost sounded relieved, in fact. I guess it did make it easier for Gavin to pull the old rock star hump and dump if he didn’t have to face me again.

So, misery.

And it wasn’t getting any better.

I looked at my phone first thing, of course telling myself that I wasn’t seeing if he texted.

(He hadn’t.)

I was checking in on the sorority chat. A couple girls were able to get together for lunch this week, the others were too busy living their amazing new year resolutions. I was happy it seemed to be working out for them, but saddened at my own failure.

And to think I just wanted to learn to play the guitar.

Stacy had tagged me in the chat.

“Chloe, whatever you do…do NOT read anything about Gavin today.”

“Oh come on, of course you know I’m going to google it now.”

“Seriously, please don’t.”

“I won’t.”

But I lied.

How could I not?

I immediately googled his name.

And the first page was filled with articles about him.

And a spat with his girlfriend.

Instagram model Blythe Orion.

“Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me?” I moaned and scanned the first article that popped up.

It was from yesterday in LA.

“That was fast. Asshole,” I muttered.

There were photos from the scene, no video, but the intent of the picture essay was clear.

He was breaking up with her.

BLYTHE ORION KICKS GAVIN PIERCE TO THE CURB ON HER TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY the headline screamed at me.

Had they been dating when we were hanging out?

I almost started sobbing again, but my anger kept my eyes dry and I practically felt a wall being bricked around my heart as I read.

The article claimed they’d been seeing each other in private, and that when Blythe found out about the one night stand in Seattle with me she’d decided she’d had enough of his cheating ways and his constant playing around with every, “vapid” fan who threw themselves at him.

“I’m not vapid,” I grumbled. “I’m probably smarter than her.”

I hated that I was feeling so jealous about all of this.

I hated that I was feeling anything at all.

I killed time by finishing up the last of the research I’d done for Professor Steinbach so I could at least get partial publication credit, googling old photos of Gavin looking really ugly, and complaining to my mom about what a jerk he was.

She was sympathetic but didn’t completely understand what I was going through.

It’s not like many people would. How could anyone understand what it was like to have their name dragged through the mud by basically everybody online?

The articles had been bad enough, but the comments.

I know they say to never read the comments, but I’d read the comments.

And people were horrible.

Beyond horrible.

I couldn’t imagine what potential employers would think if they googled my name. I doubted I could even get a job at this point, even though I needed one.

Thursday was just as painful as Wednesday, worse even in a way because my heart still ached for him.

I didn’t understand how he had threaded himself so deeply into my heart in such a short time, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t get over him as easily as I’d gotten over other exes.

In the evening after I got back from a long walk in the crisp, winter air, I decided I was going to fool around a little on the guitar.

That had been the whole point of my resolution after all. And I had learned a song or two.

I was strumming along and singing a few words when I realized that it was a Gavin Pierce song.

One of his biggest hits, Silver Moon, about a break up.

Of course it would have to be one of his, and of course it would have to be about breaking up.

I decided to keep playing it, and I have to admit I was actually getting pretty good at it when I heard a sharp knock at my door.

I listened but didn’t stop, if it was one of my neighbors complaining about the noise I would probably lose my cool with them.

I was singing along and heard the knock again, louder and more persistent this time.

I planned on ignoring it, but it just didn’t stop.

The knocking got louder and more demanding.

I put my guitar down and prepared myself to take my pent up anger and frustration out on some unsuspecting neighbor.

“Seriously!” I yelled as I stomped over to the door. “I’m allowed to make noise in here, you know! I pay condo fees too!”

I slid the lock back and opened the door, opened my mouth to keep yelling but no sound came out.

I was speechless.

And then I was being kissed.

Gavin Pierce was kissing me.