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A laugh bubbles from my lips before I can help it, but I swallow down the sound with a blinding smile and shake my head.

“Maybe.”

Bennett tilts his head and softly presses a kiss to my hand before releasing it. “I can work with a maybe.”

“I really like you.”

It spews from my mouth, embarrassment immediately clinging to my expression, warmth spreading over my cheeks and down my neck. The entire phrase is so juvenile and insufficient for how I’ve started to feel for him.

Something worse yawns in my stomach, clawing at every insecurity.

Pathetic. What’s next? Begging him to like you? You’re good at that, Polly.

My stomach churns, the heat on my cheeks and neck turning clammy so fast I feel sick.

“I—you do?” Bennett stumbles through the words, which only heightens my anxiety.

“I like you,” I whisper. “A lot.”

“Yeah?” Ethan smirks as he tugs the sheet from my body just slightly. “You like me? C’mon, Polly, I’m not your middle school crush.”

My cheeks color, shame casting my eyes down as he pulls himself up and out of the bed.

“I think you more than like me, considering what you just did for me.” He laughs and pulls on my hair a little roughly before leaning over to tug his jeans back on. I swallow down the confusion, still reaching out to nuzzle against him when he beckons for me before he leaves. Desperate for the touch. For the affection, even if it’s mocking.

“Paloma?”

I shake my head, pulling back and knocking my head into the wooden wall of the booth.

Bennett eyes me, fear and concern overshadowing the awkward anxiety that plagued his features mere moments ago.

“Sorry—got lost in my head for a second.” I laugh, shaking my head and some of my lingering demons off. I try to bring up another poem, something else to talk about, trying to divert his attention from my weird display.

He doesn’t speak for most of the rest of our date, lingering worry dancing over his face. It isn’t long before our coffees are drained and my mostly one-sided anxious rambling stalls into tense silence.

Bennett walks me to my dorm like he always does now, but this time he pauses in front of the steps.

“Paloma? I’m not the best with talking about . . . this. But . . . I—” Again he trips over the word, face agitated.

I shake my head. “It was stupid. I don’t know why I said it.” I bite on my lip as my anxiety churns. “Can we just forget it?”

He frowns, shaking his head in a stiff denial.

“Please,” pours from my lips before I can stop it.

“Paloma, what—”

Get out of here. I have to get out of here.

I stumble back a step. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bennett.”

It’s easier today to leave him on the steps in front of my dorm. I don’t kiss his cheek, averting my eyes at his confused expression over the break in our routine, too focused on the swell of shame making my body feel hot and filthy.

I shower. Even as the water runs cold, I can’t get the sensation of feeling dirty off my skin.

Chapter 32

THEN: Freshman Year, October