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“Somebody who knows me,” I continue. “Somebody older and wiser who I can trust with my future.”

“YES.”

“To make the decisions for me, just until I can turn my temporarily broken brain back on.”

“YES!”

I give her a look. “No.”

Genie exhales sharply.

She stops. Points to her chest. “Look. You were the one who came to me last night like a wilted flower defeated about that date—”

“You met me at my house. Technically stalking me.”

“And you are the one who showed up here this morning telling me you weren’t strong enough to put up a fight.”

“Because it turns out I realized . . . maybe I don’t really need to fight.” I shrug. “Maybe I’ve been wrong . . . about this.”

“And if you aren’t? If it turns out you’re delusional?”

I wince inwardly. That’s a thought I am currently avoiding heartily. “Then he’s a heck of an actor.”

“He’s very possibly using you, Chlo. And you don’t want that.”

“I . . . don’t want that.”

She nods. “You don’t. You don’t want to give your heart away to somebody using it for his own gain. You don’t want to give your emotions to somebody who can’t be trusted. Think. For heaven’s sake. PLEASE.”

She comes to a full stop, moving to cross her arms one over another, as if forcing me to pause and do the thinking she’s demanding.

I take a deep breath under her stare.

“Honey, I hate to break it to you. But it’s like this: You have a track record of letting everybody—ex-boyfriends in particular—manage your life.”

I swallow.

“I know.”

“And you have a tendency in those relationships to let your heart take a severe beating. Alongside your time. And your money. And your freedom. And your will.”

Harsh but true.

She throws out a hand. “And how is this any different? How are you going down any different roads than that?”

I swallow. I want to defend him. I desperately hope I can defend him.

But the reality is, I’m a girl who knows there’s a chance he is using me. And I’m still moving forward.

“And you’ve been bent on working to get out of that self-destructive cycle of pleasing everybody lately, and doing it rapidly before you can fall into any more traps. I’ve been so proud.”

I nod again.

“But I think, despite all good intentions, you’ve still gone off and accidentally gotten snared here anyway.” She puts up two hands. “It’s not your fault, really. This was such a bizarre coincidence running into a guy like him; I mean, how could you of all people withstand him?”

My shoulders are slumping lower by the moment.

I’m weak.