Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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38. Avery

When I woke the next morning, there was something warm against my back. Then a hand on my hip.

Devon.

She was holding me close, her face pressed into the back of my neck, breathing softly.

Devon was in my bed.

I blinked at the sunlight that filtered through the blinds. I needed to get up, to talk to her. I'd started to shift away from her, but before I could stand, my phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

Adam was calling me.

I crept out of the room and answered.

"Adam, are you okay?"

"Did you call them?" His voice was rough, accusing.

"Who?" I asked.

"The police," he spat. "You know where I am, that's why you called before. You know and you want to tell them. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm so sorry. But I don't want to go to jail."

I don't want to go to jail.

"I didn't call them," I told him. "I swear."

"You're lying," he hissed. "They're going to arrest me and then everything will be over." His next words were so low I almost didn't hear them. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

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