It had been six agonizing days since Jones ambushed me at the park.

  What the hell am I supposed to do? I pressed the home button on my phone. The screen lit up, dispying the test text message from Jones. It was a suffocating reminder that we were scheduled to move into the new apartment in exactly forty-eight hours.

  Cck. I threw the phone onto the coffee table like it was physically burning my hand.

  I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto the pin diary resting on the wood. I slowly opened the first page. I had started writing in this book back in high school, right after the defining mistake of my life. The night Jones capitalized on my heartbreak and took my virginity. The night my older brother, Sean, kicked the bedroom door open and caught us in the act.

  I still remember the absolute, murderous fury in Sean’s eyes. His face was still heavily bruised and bandaged from his brutal street fight with Daeron earlier that week, but he still lunged at Jones. Jones only managed to escape because Sean’s cracked ribs slowed him down.

  I had sat there shivering on the bed, terrified that Sean was going to scream at me next. But he didn’t. When I tearfully confessed that I didn't even love Jones—that I had just let it happen on the spur of the moment because I thought Daeron hated me—Sean’s fury melted into devastating pity. He sat beside me and lectured me, his voice thick with disappointment, telling me that a girl’s body is a temple and I should have waited for a boy I truly loved.

  His pity hurt infinitely worse than any screaming match. In that moment, my rigid moral compass shattered. I felt utterly ruined.

  Just a few days ter, Jones swooped back in and asked me to be his official girlfriend. I agreed immediately. I felt like damaged goods; my naive brain genuinely believed Jones was the only guy who would ever want a broken girl like me.

  It was Jones’s brilliant, maniputive idea to keep our retionship a total secret. He knew Sean would literally kill him if he found out. So, when Daeron and Sean finally made peace at the school gates, Jones actively encouraged me to start hanging out with Daeron again. He used Daeron as a human shield to distract Sean. Jones even offered to "pretend" to flirt with other girls just to keep the scent off us.

  Behind closed doors, we pyed house. Jones treated me like a princess. His suffocating "nice guy" routine completely blinded me to the sickening reality: he didn't care about my heart. He had just wanted to conquer my body. I was such a blind fool. I spent months trying to force myself to believe we were really in love just to justify my mistake.

  "Babe, I’m back."

  The deep voice echoed from the entryway. I gasped, violently snapping the diary shut. I scrambled off the sofa and shoved the book back into its hidden spot on the shelves just as the heavy deadbolt clicked into pce.

  "Hey, babe! What did you buy? Did you get any chocote?" I called out. I forced a bright, cheerful smile onto my face, practically skipping into the kitchen to greet him.

  Daeron set the paper grocery bags down on the marble isnd. He didn't smile back immediately. His sharp grey eyes narrowed, slowly scanning my face and my tense posture. He was far too observant. He could always sense when the atmosphere in the room shifted. God, please. Don't look at me like that. I can’t do this. He walked around the isnd, stepping into my space, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to my forehead. "What’s wrong, babe?"

  No. No. My defenses completely crumbled. My body moved entirely on its own. I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face into his chest and hugging him desperately tight. I was absolutely terrified of losing this. I was terrified of losing him.

  He didn't pull away, but his rge hands gently gripped my shoulders, pushing me back just enough to force me to look at him. "Hey. What’s wrong, Jess?" His grey eyes were piercing, looking straight through my cheerful facade and down into my terrified soul.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying incredibly hard to give him my best, most authentic smile. "Nothing, Tiger. I’m just... I'm just so lucky to have you in my life."

  I pulled him down by his colr and kissed him deep. The press of his warm lips, the feeling of his rge hand sliding to the back of my neck to gently stroke my hair—it was absolute heaven. I just wanted time to completely stop. I wanted the outside world to burn away so I could stay frozen in this loft with him forever.

  When we finally parted, I looked up at him. The sharp, deeply gentle gaze radiating from those grey eyes completely intoxicated me. There were no games with him. He made me feel so incredibly safe, so completely wanted.

  I love him so much it hurt.

  *

  The next day, as I was walking back from campus, my phone aggressively vibrated in my pocket.

  Bzzt! Bzzt!

  I pulled it out. Jones. I let out a heavy sigh and answered it. "Hello?"

  "Babe, we move in tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll be on standby at the apartment to meet the ndlord."

  "Jones, why did you rush into renting an apartment without asking me?" I asked, my voice tight. "It’s already the middle of the spring semester!"

  "Come on, babe. This is a good thing! Now we can host parties at our own pce," he chuckled through the speaker, completely oblivious to my suffocating panic. "I can’t wait for you to finally meet all my friends."

  Ugh. My mind scrambled desperately for an exit. How the hell do I shake him? He's completely locking me in.

  "Besides, living together means we can fuck whenever we want, babe," he murmured, dropping his voice into a low, intimate register that made my skin crawl. "I bet you miss being fucked senseless like the st time we took that winter cabin trip together, right?"

  Shit. A sickening wave of guilt smmed into a wall of dark, hysterical humor. Fucked senseless? He had never given me an orgasm in his life. He hadn't even brought me close.

  When it came to physical intimacy, the gap between Jones and Daeron was staggering. Sex with Daeron was a completely consuming experience; it always left me desperate for more. His wild, dominant, and deeply passionate side stripped away all my anxieties and made my body tremble in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Jones’s touch just made me feel obligated.

  But that was the psychological trap. Jones treated me incredibly well. He was the ultimate "nice guy." He was patient, and he never pushed me or got angry when I refused his advances.

  Like during that winter trip. I had forced us to suspend all sexual activity for the first forty-eight hours of the vacation. Jones thought I was just tired from the drive, and he was completely understanding. The horrifying reality? Daeron had fucked me so aggressively in the hall of a frat party just hours before I left that my body was covered in marks. I had to lock Jones out to ensure he wouldn't find out I belonged to someone else.

  My stomach violently curled into a knot just thinking about it. I was just a terrified coward, spinning a web of disgusting lies that was slowly suffocating all three of us.

  The guilt of that winter break still ate me alive. I had left Daeron completely alone in that cold, massive loft for three entire weeks. I had looked him right in his beautiful grey eyes and used my strict family as an excuse, pretending I was going home for the holidays, just so I could fulfill my girlfriend "duties" with Jones. I lied to my family. I lied to Daeron. I orchestrated a massive, exhausting guilt trip just to keep the peace.

  The most tragic part of it all? The best, most genuine moment of that entire, expensive winter vacation wasn't with Jones.

  It was the very st day. When I finally unlocked the heavy metal door to Daeron’s loft, tiptoed into the dark bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. I just sat there in the quiet, watching Daeron sleep. And when he shifted under the bnkets and softly murmured my name in his sleep... my heart completely shattered. That was the only moment I felt like I was actually home.

  "I have to go, Jones. My battery is dying," I lied, hanging up the phone and staring blindly at the sidewalk.

  I am so incredibly sorry, Daeron. I am the absolute worst person in the world.

  *

  Beep-click.

  The heavy deadbolt turned, and I pushed the front door open, my chest still heaving slightly from the sheer panic of the phone call.

  The loft was perfectly still, bathed in dim of city light. Daeron wasn't home yet. I walked slowly toward the kitchen, my nerves completely frayed from Jones's suffocating ambush. But as I rounded the marble isnd, I froze.

  Sitting perfectly in the center of the dining table was a bowl of dry cereal and a freshly made, steaming mug of hot chocote.

  Oh God, Daeron… Tears immediately pricked the corners of my eyes. It was my unique, signature afternoon craving. Most people thought it was a weird combination, but Daeron never judged me for it. Jones had just tried to buy my affection by dropping thousands of dolrs on an apartment I didn't want. Daeron simply remembered my quirky afternoon habit and took the time to prepare it for me before he left for the day. He actually saw me.

  I wiped my eyes, walked over to the hidden corner of the bookshelves, and pulled out my pin white diary. I brought it to the table, sitting down to enjoy the quiet sanctuary Daeron had built for me. I opened the cover, flipping past the agonizing entries about my lost virginity and Sean's anger. I traced my fingers over the pages where the tone shifted—the exact moments I began to realize I was hopelessly in love with him.

  My eyes scanned the messy ink detailing the Stephany incident. Seeing Daeron getting close to another girl had triggered a violent, hazy wave of jealousy. My chest had physically caved in, making me so restless and bitter that I deliberately sabotaged him. I thought marking my territory meant I was winning. But the moment I saw his eyes—filled with cold, raw disdain because I had ruined his happiness—my heart shattered. Realizing how ugly I looked to him hurt so fucking much.

  I slowly turned the page to the Basketball Tournament. When he asked me to accompany him, it was like the sun finally breaking through a year-long storm. It was the happiest I had felt in months. But it also plunged me into total psychological chaos, forcing me to confront what a coward I was for staying with Jones out of obligation.

  The ink on the next page was frantic and jagged. During the tournament, Daeron had suddenly grown completely distant. I was petrified. I thought he had finally discovered my secret. I thought he knew I was sleeping with his best friend, and I was paralyzed by the fear that he completely hated me.

  That suffocating panic had sted until I finally cornered him inside the quiet privacy of his car. When Daeron looked at me and coldly accused me of dating Alphonse, the sheer, unadulterated relief almost knocked me out. My secret was still safe. Unconsciously, driven by a tidal wave of relief and years of suppressed longing, I threw myself across the center console.

  He didn't reject me. He held me. He was so incredibly gentle, grounding my chaotic mind. I had never felt that kind of absolute, unconditional safety with Jones.

  I closed the diary, letting my hands rest ft against the white cover.

  I knew it back then in the car, and I knew it now. I had fallen completely, irrevocably in love with him. But I had spent months aggressively denying it. I kept forcing distance between us, building walls and strictly enforcing my boundaries because I felt like damaged goods. I was so afraid that if he knew the truth about my past, he would throw me away.

  But as I sat in his empty loft in the dark, warming my hands around the mug he had made for me, the walls finally crumbled. I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I am deeply, desperately in love with Daeron.

  And I want to stay in this loft with him. Forever.