“You look beautiful.”

Breton’s blush isn’t visible on my phone, but I’m sure it’s there. She thanks me. Then, what I expected: “Why can I only see the top of your head? Move your phone down.”

I take a breath, tilt down my phone to get my entire face in frame, and wait to hear her gasp.

She does. Then: “What happened?”

“Long story. This guy just lost his shit and hit me, basically.”

“For no reason?” she asks, with as much outrage as disbelief. As in, she doesn’t quite believe me.

“Uh...kind of?” I scratch my beard. “I didn’t start it, but I guess I provoked him when he started throwing out threats.” I wave her next questions off. “Babe, trust me, it looks worse than it is. Just a broken nose—that’s why my eyes are black, by the way—and this little cut in my lip, here.” Touching the cut makes me wince, but I push through. “It’s nothing.”

“I wish I was there,” she says, then seems to bristle at her own words. Maybe I imagine it, but it’s like she didn’t mean to say it, or something.

“You all right?” I ask. “You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. I didn’t sleep well, plus the car ride, all that. A million questions from my parents about classes and if I have a boyfriend yet and why not, blah, blah, blah.”

“Well, to be fair, you do have a boyfriend,” I say, smiling. Finally, I get one back.

“Yeah. Sucks I have to keep you a secret.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“The way you said ‘secret.’ It was, I don’t know, sarcastic.”

Breton chews the inside of her cheek, a habit I’ve noticed when she’s nervous. “Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“Look,” I sigh, instinctively reaching to knead the bridge of my nose, then flinching when I make contact, “I know the sneaking around and shit is hard on you. It’s not easy for me, either. But we’ve made it this long, right? And I’ve been thinking about moving off-campus. Things will be more discreet that way.”

She nods, but I’m not sure she hears me. “Uh-huh,” is all she says. “Um...how was your flight?”

“Fine by most standards, but I hate flying.”

“Looks like a fancy hotel.”

“Pfft, are you kidding?” I turn the phone and show her the room in a slow rotation. “It’s nice, but far from fancy. Just a regular Holiday Inn.”

“I thought you said you were visiting family.” She looks at the ends of her hair, not me. “Why didn’t you stay with them?”

Her question takes me aback, but I talk myself down. You’re just paranoid because you feel guilty. “Not enough room,” I answer.

We do some idle chitchat for a while, but seeing her face again has made me miss her even more. I’m dying for some intimacy, even if it is through a phone screen.

“Hey,” I say, during a silence, “you think we could, uh, fool around?”

“Oh,” she says, glancing behind her. “Um...well, see, my parents are about to serve dinner, so....”

She trails off, like I’m supposed to finish the sentence for her. Instead, I just wait. There’s something going on, bothering her, and I’m not about to beg. That’s always been her side of the dynamic, after all.

“Later?” she says, softly.

“Okay.” I wink at her. “You brought the toy with you, right?”

She blushes again. This time, I definitely see it. “Yes. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you.”

She hesitates. It’s no more than a second, but I notice. “Love you, too.”

“Toy? Does that mean what I think it means?”

Colby asks it as soon as I end the call and close my laptop. She was sitting in my beanbag chair in the corner, where she could see Teague but he couldn’t see her, sipping another glass of lemonade in silence.

I can’t play it cool; my face is on fire. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh.” She nods, suppressing a smile.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything.” She finishes her lemonade and looks around. “Can I see it?”

“No! God, Col, you’re nasty.”

We laugh. I start to relax again, until I go over my conversation with Teague. “It’s weird, right? That he’s not staying with family?”

“Not as weird as whatever happened to his face.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. His explanation doesn’t sit right with me, somehow.

Colby sets the glass down, gets up, and stretches out across my bed. She’s tall, her toes touching the headboard, head draped backwards over the foot. “Can I ask, just, like, out of curiosity...what is he like?”

“Like?”

“In bed.”

I start to answer, then stop. How can I possibly describe Teague, the way he makes my nerves feel electric, the way every encounter feels like the first?

“He likes to be in control,” I say, finally. I take a deep breath, trying to find the words. “Doing things that...that I don’t think I can handle, until I do. He likes overwhelming me. At least, that’s the way he puts it.”

Colby raises her eyebrows. “That sounds hot, actually.”

I laugh again. “It is.”

“So did you mean it?” She picks up one of my throw pillows with her feet, kicking it up into the air over her head and catching it with her hands. “When you said you love him?”

“Yes.” I don’t add the “for now” dancing on my tongue. Depending on what we find out about Jennifer West this week, I might stop loving him—but even worse is the possibility I won’t be able to.

Mom calls up to us that it’s time for dinner. I follow Colby dutifully and try to decide if I’m excited about later, or dreading it.