Someone presses a wet washcloth into my hand. “You okay?”

I can’t help the hysterical laughter that comes from my mouth. I’ve officially gone off the deep end.

“She’s cracked,” Jenna says to Harper as I stare at their feet, which are clad in neon socks. Why do they have matching socks?

My left cheek is pressed to the cold tile in our bathroom. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at my roommates who stare back. This must be what it feels like to be an animal in the zoo, always being observed and always observing. Any minute, someone is going to start petting me.

Harper crouches down and presses her palm to my forehead. “I don’t think she has a fever,” she says to Jenna like I’m not here.

I close my eyes. “Everyone knows. It’s out there, and I can’t make it go back in the can. God damn Wheeler.”

“Clem, it’ll be okay.” Harper grabs my hand to pull me up into a sitting position. I groan, my whole body aching from lying on the floor for the past hour. “I know anonymity is important to you, but there are bigger problems in this world than revealing a writer’s identity, like famines, genocide—”

“Human trafficking and sexual cults!” Jenna adds. Harper and I turn to look at Jenna who shrugs. “What? Those are serious problems.”

“Okay, point taken.” My throat is hoarse from vomiting. After wrapping my neck with my hand to soothe the pain, I try to stand, and my roommates steady me.

“I’m glad you stood up for yourself today,” Harper says as she hugs me, but just as quickly, she wrinkles her nose and pushes me away. “You stink. Take a shower.”

“He accused me of plagiarism. I couldn’t stand there and take it.” Noticing a chunk of an undeterminable nature in my hair, I pluck it out.

There are bigger things you should be worried about. What if he tries to hurt you? My hand trembles as I cover my eyes.

“You should have heard her, Harp.” Jenna nudges me. “She totally told off that asswipe. It was awesome.”

Pressing my hand to my stomach, I say, “We’ll see how awesome it is when I have to explain this to the dean. I should call him before Wheeler beats me to it.”

Relieved to find that Dean Marshall isn’t in today, I leave a message before I crawl into a hot shower. Letting the steady stream beat into my back, I stand there and try to keep it together.

Every molecule in me wants to call Gavin. I miss my friend, and there’s no one I want to confide in more. Remembering how he nearly beat up Wheeler last week makes the ache in my chest grow.

But Wheeler’s words echo in my head, that my character Isabella is pathetic. Really, that I’m pathetic. Because not only did I blow it with Daren by shutting him down, but I ran off and had a one-night stand after we broke up. Ironic that I wasn’t opposed to having sex with Daren; I only wanted to make sure I was ready so that he’d respect me afterward, so that I’d respect myself. I wanted to know that he loved me. Instead, I hooked up with John or Sean or whatever the fuck his name was for ten minutes of awkward and somewhat painful sex.

The thought that I’d go crawling to Gavin broken and needy disgusts me. I won’t go to him to pick up the pieces of my life. I’ll handle this myself. Besides, now that people know I wrote this book, he might not be interested anymore. I wouldn’t blame him.

God. Gavin is going to read about my one-night stand for fuck’s sake! Although I’ve told him what happened, it’s another thing entirely for him to read a first-hand account.

Mortification spreads in me as I think about what else that book reveals. I poured all of my insecurities between those pages. Every shortcoming and fear. Every humiliating moment as I fell apart over Daren. Every tear shed as my life fell imploded.

Sniffling, I brace myself for the fallout, which I’m sure includes some pissed-off rich people.

I should give Daren a heads-up.

While he’s not named in my novel, it won’t take a genius to figure out who I’m talking about. I’m sure his parents will be thrilled with my depiction.

I change into some yoga pants and t-shirt, stopping to wipe the steamed mirror with my elbow. “Man up, Clementine,” I tell my reflection.

When I step out into the living room, I stop short. Jax jumps off the couch and scoops me into a bear hug. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

“Not if I can get to him first.” Daren stands up and walks over.

I shoot an exasperated look at my roommates. Jenna loops her arm through Harper’s. “We didn’t think you should deal with this by yourself, so we called your brother.”

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“Clem, how is it that you wrote a book and I had no idea?” Jax stares down at me with a hurt expression. How the hell is he so much taller than I am? I’m barely five five while he’s at least six feet tall. “Answer me.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, and anyway, what did you think creative writing majors do?”

Ignoring my question, he asks, “How am I just finding out that you’re a bestselling author? And why are you using a pen name?”

Jax lets go of me and starts motioning with his hands. Why does he care that I wrote a stupid book? He’s always so wrapped up in soccer and random girls.

My eyes lock with Harper’s, and she gives me a sympathetic smile as she drags Jenna back to her room.

“Jax, calm down.” Daren places a hand on his shoulder.

I blow out a slow breath. “Daren, you might not be quite as understanding when you read my novel.”

He angles his head toward me, clearly not getting my point.

“Okay, both of you, sit. Now.”

My brother sighs and stomps over to the couch. Daren joins him. If I weren’t in some deep shit right now, I’d laugh that I ordered these huge guys to sit like little boys, and they totally followed my command.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of them, I brace myself for what I need to say.

“Aside from hating being in the tabloids, unlike some people,” I say, giving my brother a pointed look, “the reason I used a pen name is because the book is autobiographical. It’s about what happened my senior year.” I look at Daren. “With us.” His eyes begin to widen with understanding. “Before you freak out, you should know that it’s fictional—the names and places are different, but it’s about a girl named Isabelle who falls in love with the star quarterback, Evan, who cheats on her.”

He starts to say something, but I hold my hands up. “It’s about how she ran off and slept with some other guy because she thought it would lessen the pain somehow.”

Daren winces as my brother groans.

“Shit, Clem. Don’t tell me this,” Jax grunts.

“Everyone else is about to know, so you’d might as well hear it from me.” I grip the hem of my t-shirt and twist it, which will ruin the fabric because nothing that’s stretched out that far ever goes back to normal. “It talks about her mother who told her she should have sex with Evan or he’d lose interest but otherwise didn’t give a shit. Actually, she cared, but not in the way I thought.”

“What does that mean?” Daren sits forward and touches my knee gently so that I’ll look at him.

I clench my eyes shut as I think about it. “She said I could learn a few things from Veronica and that I should crawl on my hands and knees and beg you to take me back. Because I’d probably never do any better. And because a Sloan-Avery marriage was great PR. For her. Then she left for a meeting like she couldn’t be bothered with my life. And I lost my state meet later that day.”

Swallowing so I don’t throw up, I wrap my arms around my waist.

“Jesus.” Daren stands up and pulls me into a hug, crushing me into his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know your mother is a bitch, but I never realized she’d hurt you like this. No wonder you were reluctant to—”

“Dude, don’t fucking say it,” Jax says, his hands forming tight fists. “Don’t fucking talk about banging my sister.”

“Calm down, asshole. I would never talk about Emmie that way.”

“So I have a few problems,” I say, scooting out of Daren’s hold and making him sit again. “Obviously, our parents are going to freak out, but I’m also being accused of plagiarism.”

My brother makes me explain exactly what happened in class. After I spill the details, I get to my most pressing concerns. “I have two serious legal issues: the public accusations along with what I suspect will be an academic investigation. I could get expelled if Wheeler somehow convinces the school that I’ve stolen these ideas from him.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, babe.” Daren whips out his phone and dials a number. “Prescott, this is Daren Sloan. I need to talk to that libel attorney in your office. No, this is not about me.” He covers the phone. “Wheeler is lucky I don’t rip his dick off.”

“That’s… graphic.” I laugh weakly as the tension starts to dissipate.

When Jax and Daren leave two hours later, even though I’m humbled that I had to explain this ugly ordeal, the fact that neither of them asked me if Wheeler’s accusation has any merit comforts me. They simply assumed I was telling the truth. I smile, knowing that those two are on my side. Maybe I’ve done something right after all.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, someone is shouting. Rolling over in bed and placing a pillow firmly over my head does nothing to shut out the noise. Someone yells my name.

I wander out of my bedroom to find Dani pressed up against the front door.

“Dani? What’s wrong?” I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and yawn.

“There are people here to see you.” Her bed-head makes her look like she’s twelve. Why does she look so weirded out?

Jenna comes jogging out of her bedroom. “You can’t leave, Clem. The press is out there.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Come look out my window.”

I scurry into her room and peek out through the blinds to see a couple of news trucks. The sight makes my heart race. “Why are they here?”

“You and Wheeler, I think. Ryan says the whole campus is talking about it.”

A loud knock on the door jars me from my out-of-body experience.

“Clementine. It’s me.” The sound of Gavin’s voice makes my knees weaken. The thought of him knowing what’s in my book churns my stomach.

Jenna takes one look at me and grabs my arm. “You haven’t told him what’s going on, have you?” she asks in a strained whisper so he won’t hear through the door.

I shake my head and remind her of the break.

She smacks me on the side of my head, and her face twists into a scowl when I yelp. “I am not going to curse at you because my momma would say that you never want to hit someone when they’re down, but for fuck’s sake, Clem, you need to talk to that guy before he gets tired of your shit.”

So much for not cursing at me. “Jenna, you think I should’ve called him yesterday so he could see how pathetic I am?”

Jenna doesn’t miss my use of Wheeler’s word. She turns to me, hands on her hips, and lets out a deep sigh. “Good lord, girl. What am I going to do with you?” The more frustrated she becomes, the thicker her Southern accent gets. “Go clean up because I’m letting him in, and you are going to talk to him. I don’t understand how you can go to Daren for help, but you leave out Gavin.”

“I didn’t call Daren for help. You called my brother, and they’re attached at the damn hip. Since Daren and I talked the other night and cleared the air, he’s been acting like he did before we dated. It was always the three of us since we were little. I can’t help that we have that history. He’s helping me a lot, and before you give me that look, you should know that nothing is going on. I’m not interested in him. At all.”

I don’t wait for her reply as I shut myself in the bedroom and change. I pull on jeans and a t-shirt and tie my hair into a messy ponytail. A few minutes later, there’s a tap on my door.

Placing my hand on the handle, I close my eyes. You have to stop hiding. Let him in.

When Gavin sees me, he looks as uncertain as I feel, which unsettles me more, but he’s here, now, and my heart thuds faster, quickened by his close proximity. I think back to Monday night when I saw him walking into the gym, laughing with his friends. The realization that he isn’t like this with me, not anymore, makes me wonder if I’m even any good for him.

“I guess you heard what happened yesterday.” I want to hug him but don’t.

He takes a few tentative steps into my room. I’m pained by the distance between us that started with Angelique and wormed its way to Daren. The burden of unspoken things is clearly taking its toll. We are three feet apart, but it might as well be a gulf.

“I did, but I wish I’d heard it from you.” His jaw tightens.

The only way to break these barriers, to be close again, is to tell him everything, but he’s yet to disclose the secrets he started keeping first. Do I really want to do this? To keep tabulations of past insults? This is exhausting. I don’t do angst well.

Maybe I could start by saying something small but honest and see if he reciprocates. I want to take a small step and be vulnerable with Gavin.

“I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know what I’d written, to see me in that light.”

His eyes soften, and he takes a step closer. “I know what it’s like to be judged for what you write. For every article I publish, I get an inbox full of hate mail.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve read your stuff. You’re a brilliant reporter.”

He shrugs as though uneasy with the compliment. “You’ve had that advantage.” I raise my eyebrows, wondering what he means. He clears his throat. “You know what I’ve written because I don’t use a pen name.”

My eyes turn down to the floor. Of course he’s known I have a pen name. I told him as much when we first started studying together. I just never told him what it was. Nothing was stopping him from asking. Unless he was waiting for me to offer it.

“I wish you felt like you could talk to me.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“I could say the same thing.” My stupid mouth opens before I realize what I’m saying. He nods slowly, his distance growing.

I think about how he spends time with Angelique. Hell, I saw her walk in with him at the gym only two nights ago, and yet he and I aren’t spending time together. I’ve never thought of myself as a jealous girl, but damn it, I’m pissed.

Gavin exhales and starts for the door, pausing to place a pink square of paper into my palm and kiss my forehead. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Don’t leave.

But I don’t say the words. I can’t. And then he’s gone.

I open my hand to find a Post-It with something scribbled across it. A quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald. “That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”

God, I’m an idiot. He comes here to comfort me and I piss him off. I suck at relationships. I start to go after him but stop at my front door, remembering I have a lawn full of reporters. My situation has garnered enough attention to have a few news trucks parked outside, and yet Gavin didn’t ask to interview me or get a story when his specialty is investigative reporting. He never leveraged me for his own advancement. My vision gets blurry, and I blink back the tears, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I stare down at his note in my hand and wish I knew what to do.