Blizzard Boy ✓

X

"Love is a deeper season
than reason; my sweet one."
-EE Cummings

• • • • • • •

I bolt straight ahead, not daring to look back as my mind reprimands me.

What was I thinking? Guys are insensitive jerks. I should've realized that from the start.

For Christmas morning, everything is so empty. Most of the roads are clear, but they lack their typical busyness, mirroring the city's appearance during the storm.

It only takes me a few minutes to reach my apartment building. Unable to sum up enough willpower to lift the door handle, I collapse against the wall.

Memories worm their way through my bones, flashing before my eyes.

Quin pushed my back into the sheets, kissing my neck hungrily. His breath was hot, but pure fear shot through me when he reached for the button on my jeans.

I struggled to escape his grasp, and he looked down at me, expression feigning hurt. "You don't love me?"

"Of course I love you," I protest, even though he's right. Everything about my posture screams discomfort.

"Then let me do this," he says in that low, threatening voice, and I obey. People always claim you should say 'no' when you don't want it, but I'd rather not make a big deal out of nothing.

A sob tears through my throat. I've been weak. After his death, I managed to rebuild strength, but that strength was composed of guilt. Miles tore it down.

The tears keep coming. Stupidly, I don't bother brushing them away. I'm tangled in a web of lies, and everyone I meet is just another spider.

"Hey. Astrid."

I look up, swiping my hand across my wet cheeks, and see Miles standing there. Great. How much worse could this situation get? Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even hear him approach.

As my vision's blurriness dissolves, I'm surprised to see the frustration and sadness in his eyes.

"I know you probably hate me," he mutters, breath heavy.

I provide a nod.

"And I'm not here to change that." Leaning against the wall beside me, he rolls a pebble under the sole of his shoe before kicking it toward the street. "I want to give you an explanation."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of obvious."

An eyebrow raises. "Do enlighten me, then."

"You got your highschool sweetheart pregnant," I explain, incapable of meeting his stare. "She had her kid, you didn't go to college. Now, you're bored of her, so you pick up desperate chicks in your free time."

"Not even close." He hesitates, reconsidering. "Well... As much as I hate to say this, the first part is.

"When I was in high school, I was pretty damn reckless. Especially with girls. Being soccer captain... it gets you pressured into a lot of things, including the partier lifestyle.