It’s a breezy summer night, but my blood is boiling.

The freeway overpass roars with a steady stream of cars.

I turn toward the quiet street—what the hell is a strip club doing on such a quiet street?—and let the click-clack of my heels fill my ears.

Ryan’s steady footsteps overpower them.

His fingers curl around my upper arm.

The possessive gesture undoes me. How can he be so fucking blind? How can he not see how badly I want to be his? How much I need him to be mine?

“What the fuck, Leigh?”

“Now you want to touch me?”

He makes that what the hell noise.

I pull my arm to my side, but it’s not satisfying. It only rubs salt in the wound.

I keep my back to him. Take another step toward the streetlight. Not that it helps. We’re in West LA, but we’re still two miles from my apartment and these heels aren’t made for walking.

Ryan follows, one pace behind me. “You promised, Leigh.”

“What the fuck did I promise?”

“You’d tell me if I’m about to lose you.”

“You’re not.” But that isn’t true. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I only know I can’t be here anymore. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Your car is at her place.”

“I’ll Lyft with you.” His fingers curl around my upper arm—the left this time. He moves closer. Presses his crotch against my ass, his chest against my back.

It’s not a sexual gesture.

It’s a protective one.

I swallow hard. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Frustration drips into his voice.

He doesn’t see this.

He’s such a smart guy. How can he not see someone so obvious?

“It’s just not.” I hug my purse to my stomach. I tap my toes together.

He presses his body against mine. “Explain it.”

“I want to be alone.”

“I need to make sure you get home okay.”

“I get home okay every day. I don’t need your help.”

“Let me take care of you, Leigh.” His fingers dig into my skin.

That’s what I want.

That’s everything I want.

“Fine. But you’re not coming in.” I swallow hard. I want him taking me home, walking me to the door, escorting me to my bed.

Joining me.

Fucking my brains out.

Usually I’m okay with some of that. But not right now.

I need all of it. All of him. All his love and affection and tenderness.

He has so much to give.

I know it.

Even if he doesn’t.

I keep my back to him as he pulls out his cell and calls a ride share.

“Three minutes.” His voice is soft. “You’re shivering.”

I shake my head. Maybe it’s cool this late, but I don’t feel it. Not with my heart pounding against my chest. Not with him this close.

He slides his jacket off his shoulders then drapes it over mine.

I force myself to turn, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.

He brushes a stray hair behind my ear then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a close, tight hug.

We stay like that for all three minutes. Until a car stops and a voice calls out, “Ryan?”

Ryan pulls away to nod. He opens the backseat for me. Motions after you.

I slide inside. Ryan follows. Seatbelts click. The door locks. The driver double-checks the address. Ryan confirms.

The driver laughs. “Must have been a fun night.”

“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice is matter-of-fact.

I stare out the window to my right. Watch restaurants and office buildings blur together.

Night in Southern California is the same everywhere. The sky is a soft blue. Fluorescent yellow casts highlights and shadows over the expanse of beige sidewalks, charcoal pavement, green lawns, taupe Eucalypti branches.

Light, barely there stars.

Bright silver moon.

A sliver today. Almost nothing.

Would it be better if it was nothing? If the sky was dark?

What if I had to choose between a sliver and nothing?

My eyelids press together. My forehead sinks into the window’s cool glass. The car glides over the empty road. Slows as it turns into my neighborhood.

Stops in front of my apartment complex.

Ryan’s seatbelt clicks. His door opens.

No. I can’t let him walk me to my place. I can’t let him look at me.

I’m about to burst at the seams and I can’t even explain it to myself.

Or maybe I can.

It’s not that complicated.

I’m crazy about him.

And I’m painfully jealous of the hold Penny still has on him.

He opens my door and offers his hand.

I undo my seatbelt, grab my purse, and take it.

“Thanks.” He nods to the driver.

The drivers returns the gesture. He says something, but I haven’t got a clue what it is.

My nails scrape Ryan’s fingertips as my feet hit the pavement.

He slides his arm around my waist as he walks me to the sidewalk, up the stairs, all the way to my apartment.

I press my back against the door.

“Leigh.” His fingers skim my shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong?”

I shake my head.

“Talk to me.”

“You pushed me away.”

“You were trying to give me a lap dance.”

I blink back a tear. “Exactly.”

“What the fuck?”

I unzip my purse. Fumble for my keys.

“You’re in love with someone else.”

“No, I’m not.”

His blue eyes bore into mine. “Then why does Dean—”

“It’s not Dean.” There. I wrap my fingers around my key.

His brow knits with frustration. “Who the fuck is it?”

“How can you not see this?”

“You know anything about me?” That same frustration drips into his voice. “I can’t see shit.”

“This has nothing to do with Penny.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“You still love her.”

His hair falls in front of his eyes as he shakes his head.

“You were staring at that curtain like you were desperate to be the one with her—”

“Because I couldn’t believe she wanted a lap dance.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“You know how I feel?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“No.” His fingers curl around my right wrist. He pins my arm to the door. “Not anymore.”

My body betrays me. It crumbles under his touch. It begs for his hands everywhere. I freeze, unable to do anything but stare back at him.

“What if I was?” He stares back at me. “Who the fuck are you to call me on that?”

“You don’t love her anymore?”

“No.”

“At all?”

“Leigh, what the fuck?”

“Answer the question!”

His eyes go to my wrist. He stares at his hand like he’s not sure how it got there. Releases me. Takes a half step backward. “There’s a part of me wrapped up in her, but it’s shrinking.”

“But you—”

“Don’t give me shit about this. You’re in love with someone else.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you—”

“No, Ryan.” I stare into his eyes. “I’m not losing sleep over Dean, or Brendon, or Walker. Or any other guy I know. It’s you.”

His eyes go wide.

“You’re Mr. Powers.” I swallow hard. “You’re the guy I can’t get out of my head.”