Broken Knight (All Saints High Book 2)
Broken Knight: Chapter 3

September, one month later

“She doesn’t even speak in sign language much. Dude, she doesn’t speak at all. Trust me. I’ve tried. She’s a freak. A genius freak, because hell, she hardly ever studies and apparently aces all her courses. She straight up has a seahorse poster on her wall. I can’t even tell you what insane Rain Man vibes I’m getting from her. Oops, I think there’s someone at the door. Gotta go. Bye.”

April, my high-pitched roommate, swung the door open. When she saw it was me fiddling with my key, her face fell.

Initially, I’d been a little worried about my multicolor-haired roommate. Dad and Edie had prepped the college prior to my arrival, so they’d roomed me with someone whose mother was deaf. April spoke sign language fluently, and was a tiny thing from Montana with eyebrows so blond you could barely see them. She liked Dierks Bentley and soul food and whistling loudly when attractive guys walked by, which I found horrifying and amusing in equal measure.

“I didn’t think you’d come back so early.” She didn’t sidestep to let me in.

I checked the time on my phone and shrugged, shouldering past her. My daily meeting with my counselor, Malory, had been canceled. Apparently, she’d come down with a stomach bug. But who knew? Maybe she, too, had gotten tired of trying to reach a breakthrough with me.

I flung myself on my bed, opening my message box with Knight.

Nothing.

I didn’t know which part shocked me the most: the fact that I’d actually taken the step and gone to Boon, or the fact that Knight had disappeared from the face of the Earth since I had.

I was dwelling. Obsessing. Fixating.

I swung my legs sideways and perched in front of my typewriter. Dad had gotten it for me last summer after I decided to go away to school in the hopes it’d inspire me to write. Typewriters are everything laptops are not: authentic, romantic, and unforgiving when you make a mistake. If you spell a word wrong, you must start over.

Dad knows I love a good challenge, but right now I was also wildly out of my element.

Write.

Write what you know.

What’s bothering you.

What you love.

What you hate.

Just do it.

My fingers hovered over the keys. I needed an outlet. April, in my periphery, squinted as she examined me like I was a wild raccoon that had burst into her dorm room.

“Right. Heading out now, Raymond. Ping me if you need anything. Not that you would, you little vampire, you.”

She had compared me to Dustin Hoffman’s character and Twilight in one sentence. Awesome. I wondered if she knew just how offensive that was to both autistic people and myself.

“Yo. Earth to Raymond.”

That’s it. I flipped her the finger. Screw that.

“Whoa. There she is. Alive and kicking. Digging it.”

I stared at my blank page, waving her out.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going.”

I heard her on the phone as she blazed through the narrow corridor of our dorm, laughing and laughing and laughing, and I smiled to myself. April was so happy.

Clearly, she wasn’t an artist.

October

Anxiety laced my legs like ivy, climbing all the way up to my neck. Some days, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I still attended my daily meetings with my counselor, but whatever courses I was able to switch to online, I did. One of my promises to Malory was to study at Starbucks at least twice a week. Be out and about. Let the world stain my otherwise pristine, sheltered life.

Knight was still MIA. He wouldn’t answer my messages, and I wondered if he’d truly moved on, if all he’d needed was a bit of space from me.

I sent an email to Edie every week, and every week I received one back, always saying the same thing:

Make mistakes.

Be free.

Be bold.

Treat teenage as a verb, Luna.

Love you,

E

It felt like life continued without me, and my bubble hadn’t just burst…

It had exploded all over my face.

Malory insisted I ask April to have lunch with me.

She said otherwise she’d have to report to my parents that despite my amazing grades, I was not making any real progress in the ways that mattered.

She dangled that negative, lackluster report about my progress, threatening to send it to Sonya, my long-time therapist back home, too.

I took April to a taco joint and ordered two of everything on the menu. Then I flashed the fake ID Knight had hooked me up with as a joke on my eighteenth birthday and got us margaritas, too. I made an effort to speak to her in sign language, because texting from across the table seemed extra weird. I even smiled. I was desperate not to go back home with my tail between my legs. So I decided to fake it till I made it.

It worked.

April smacked my back when we left the restaurant. “You’re cool, Raymond. Who’d have thought? Not me, that’s for sure.”

I was mentally exhausted from talking. I needed to close my eyes and shut the world out for a month or two.

“Hey, so my friend is throwing a party next week…” she started, and I darted my eyes to her pleadingly.

I’d die if she asked me to join them. I shook my head slowly.

April burst into howls of laughter. “Um, no, my little grasshopper. Redirect that thought. I was wondering if I could give you money for some beer and other liquor.”

I nodded. That I could do.

She grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ll need to lighten up eventually. You know that, right?”

I didn’t, but people were starting to make it impossible for me not to.

November

Then there was a boy.

An actual boy.

With limbs and everything. A real boy. That noticed. Me.

Josh: Party 2nite?

“Ask him if the party’s in his pants, and if you can bring a plus one.” April peeked at my phone behind my shoulder, reading my incoming text message. “I’d climb Josh like a tree hugger saving a rainforest given the slightest opportunity.”

I tucked the phone back into the pocket of my jeans, chuckling.

“Come on.” She flung herself over my bed—we had bunk beds, and of course, I’d agreed to take the lower bunk on day one—kicking her socked feet in the air. “We’ve been here for months, and you haven’t gone to one party. That’s, legit, the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m happy you’ve never had to deal with truly sad things, then,” I signed to her.

I’d been doing a lot of signing lately. More than I had in years in Todos Santos. I finally got why Dad had been so desperate for me to come here.

It forced me out of my shell.

It broke said shell like a glass ball.

Truth was, I couldn’t not sign. I needed to buy groceries. Communicate with people around me. Talk to teachers. Survive.

“I have some homework to catch up on,” I lied, ducking my head to my MacBook. The typewriter next to it was getting dusty.

April threw a pillow at me, laughing. “Liar, liar, thong on fire. You’re acing all your courses and flying back home tomorrow morning. You don’t have anything going on. Come. Party. Chill. And give Josh a decent chance.”

Something in my gut twisted at the mention of Josh’s name. Not because I didn’t like him. The opposite, actually. He was mute—as a kid, he’d suffered trauma to his vocal cords in a car accident and could no longer produce any sound—and I felt oddly defensive about our tender friendship.

I’d seen Josh on campus for the first time three months ago, in the cafeteria. He had a smooth, young face, dark skin, and striking features. He’d been clad in white jockey silk and a hoodie. A flock of girls had cawed around him, so loud against his comfortable silence. His eyes had met mine across the room, as if I’d called his name. I’d clutched my books tighter to my chest and slipped out of the cafeteria.

I’d tried to convince myself he hadn’t really noticed me, that I was just so thirsty for the attention I was no longer getting from Knight, I’d started imagining things.

Then, overnight, I saw Josh everywhere—on the front lawn on campus, at the local Starbucks, at the library, in three different lectures, and at the stables where I volunteered as part of my ongoing therapy with animals. No matter where I went, he was there, until we had no choice but to smile hello at each other—not because we knew one another, but because it was pointless to pretend we weren’t familiar with each other’s faces.

April and her friends were gaga about him, so I found out his name and that he was teaching special needs kids horseback riding three times a week. The first time I noticed he spoke in sign language, my heart slowed, almost coming to a full stop.

He hadn’t noticed me, focused instead on his conversation with April. They’d stood across the hallway from me, oblivious to my presence. He had a laid-back, confident smile, like he didn’t consider his muteness a disadvantage. He had a roommate, Ryan, who’d sometimes interpret for him, the way April did for me. And sometimes he’d type things on his phone to communicate. But he always walked with the self-assurance of someone unstoppable, inspiring me to think maybe I could feel that way someday, too.

I knew with fierce certainty that our paths were bound to collide. We were both freshmen, studying in a small college in North Carolina, and both of us were mute. My instinct had proved true about four weeks after I initially saw him.

I’d hurried into Starbucks to escape the drizzle, tossed my scarf and pea coat onto a table by the window, got myself hot cocoa, and had the barista, Nicole, punch the timesheet Malory had given me—testimony that I was keeping up with my twice-a-week sessions. I’d always kept my Starbucks visits as brief as possible, staying the twenty minutes Malory requested from me and dashing back home.

But this time, when I’d turned around to take my seat, Josh was perched on a stool at my table, clad in his jockey outfit and a smile that could melt hearts. Nervous, but open. I’d liked that he was confident, but still not completely well-versed in his attractiveness, like Knight was.

“Am I that invisible?” He’d tilted his ball cap down and signed to me, knowing I would understand him.

There was something in my stomach. Not exactly butterflies, but not the usual, empty hum I usually got when guys—even handsome guys—spoke to me. I’d lifted my eyebrows.

I could do it. I could answer him. I could use teenage as a verb.

“You weren’t here when I came in,” I signed, poking out my lower lip.

“Prove it,” he challenged, knotting his arms across his chest.

He was long-limbed and lean—good looking, but not intimidatingly so. I could imagine him accompanying his mother to the mall or playing Xbox. Things Knight did, technically speaking, too, but he still looked too untouchable and beautiful to be bothered.

“That’s ridiculous,” I motioned.

I reminded myself to breathe. I was doing it. I was having a conversation. With a stranger. A breakthrough.

“Says who?” he asked.

“Says me.” I nearly snorted.

“Pretty sure you’ll need to prove your case and not vice versa. I’ve been taking some pre-law courses.”

“Where’s your drink, then? If you were here before, you must’ve ordered something.” I bit my lip.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, which was buzzed close to the scalp.

He sighed. “You got me. I just saw an opening to talk to you and went for it. Clearly, my plan was not bulletproof.”

“Are you stalking me?” I asked, mostly joking, but I couldn’t help but feel a dash of panic, too, a familiar tug in my stomach. I was not in the best headspace.

I couldn’t get Knight out of my mind, as if talking to Josh was cheating on him, though he had no claim. I’d tried Skyping Knight a dozen times since I’d been at college, but he never answered. He did text me sometimes, and I kept reading and rereading his messages, trying to decode some deeper meaning, especially after how we’d left things at Vaughn’s party.

We’d never talked about the slap. I was too embarrassed to bring it up, and these days he seemed to tiptoe around me, dipping his toes in mindless pleasantries but avoiding an actual conversation.

Knight: Broke my middle finger. Switching to running plays. Killing my pass percentage. I’m getting hit more. Texting less. Stay safe. x

Knight: Sorry couldn’t answer. Need to rest. How’s school?

Knight: Missed your call again. Sorry. x

Luna: How’d you break your middle finger?

Knight: Fingering the wrong asshole.

Knight: JK. Practice.

Luna: I miss you.

Knight: xx.

Luna: How is Rosie?

Knight: Fine.

Luna: You know how I feel about that word…

Knight: Sorry. Good. Mom’s good. x

I sometimes wondered what hurt more: Losing someone all of a sudden, like in a plane crash, or losing them piece by piece, like I did Knight. It was like feeling a once-warm body growing cold next to you in bed. Chills ran through my back. I wanted to throw up half the time I thought about him.

“Stalking you!” Josh had thrown his arms up, feigning exasperation and commanding my attention. “For your information, yes, I did stalk you. But only a little. And only when we were both already out and about. I don’t know where you live or anything creepy like that. But I was walking on Main Street on my way to get chicken noodle soup for my sick roommate when I saw you walk in and thought, there’s my in.”

I’d smiled at him. Really smiled, for the first time in a long time. He was charming and pleasant and normal. Yes. That was the part I liked most about him.

“Luna,” I’d signed, offering him my hand.

He took it.

“Josh. Joshua. Whatever you want to call me, really. Just as long as you do.”

Josh had then said he really needed to go get his roommate that soup before he got kicked out of his dorm room.

“You’re here a lot,” he’d observed, flipping his ball cap backward.

I couldn’t deny it, because Malory was going to make sure I’d be here, whether I wanted to or not. I shrugged.

“Mind if I invite myself to tag along sometime?”

I’d shrugged again, fighting the urge to shut him down. Vaughn was right. It was high time I made my own friends, and connections, and life.

After that, Josh had come every day, even when I wasn’t there. I knew because the baristas told me.

At the stables, I sometimes watched Josh teaching other kids who spoke sign language as I swept with a wooden broom. Sometimes, he’d buy me hot cocoa and put it outside the door, knowing how embarrassed I was to be given things.

We were just friends. I’d quickly made it clear I was still hung up on a boy from home. I told Josh Knight was my ex-boyfriend. It felt less pitiful than being desperately in love with your childhood friend, who was probably screwing his way to the top of a Guinness record for being the most obnoxious, desired teenager to ever live.

I’d tried to Skype Knight a few more times before completely giving up. We’d just see each other at Thanksgiving. Our parents always spent it together, so we couldn’t delay talking to each other much past that, no matter how much he dreaded it.

When I returned from my lengthy trip through my thoughts, April had thrown her head back on my bed and was rolling around and moaning Josh’s name to highlight how hot he was.

And he was. But he wasn’t Knight. Though I reminded myself that Knight seemed to have moved on. He didn’t have an active Instagram account, but sometimes, at night, I stalked the accounts of girls he went to school with and found pictures of him from parties and football games. He looked happy, and that made me unhappy. The fact that it made me unhappy made me even more unhappy.

“Don’t tell me.” April rolled to a sitting position and blew a purple lock from her face. “You don’t want to go because then Josh might finally kiss you, and you will lose the precious notion that the idiot back home is going to get back with you.”

April thought Knight was my ex-boyfriend, too. The lie had grown larger, wings bursting from its back. The more it matured, the less I was comfortable considering myself her and Josh’s true friend.

“Let it go, Luna. You’re going to spend the next few years away from this dude. It’s over.”

I swiveled in my chair and pinned her with a look.

“That is not what it’s about,” I signed.

Or maybe it was. But either way, social gatherings made me physically sick. However, I knew with Josh and April there, I wouldn’t be alone.

“Before you say no to Josh, I want you to consider something.” April sprang up from my bunk and sashayed over to my laptop, hovering above me. “I didn’t want to show you this, but I guess I have no choice.”

My heart jumped to my throat. April leaned down and punched an Instagram handle into the search bar, opening an account I was familiar with. It was one of the popular senior girls Knight went to school with, Poppy Astalis. He’d never mentioned her throughout our friendship, but of course, my weekly searches included her. She was an English rose, sans the thorns—all sweet, delicate, and trimmed where appropriate. Her father was one of the most well-known sculptors in the world, and after her mother had passed away, he’d agreed to take on a consulting job, assisting in opening Todos Santos School of Art, uprooting Poppy and her younger sister, Lenora, from their London residence.

Poppy was pretty, but she wasn’t made from the same velvet, tainted cloth of the rich Todos Santos girls. She’d always been nice to me during the two years we’d spent at All Saints High together, and she was a straight-A student. She played the accordion, skipped most parties, but attended the important ones, and from what I’d heard, she was always the one to drive drunk girls home before they did something stupid.

“Maybe this will inspire you to give up on the dickhead.” April clicked on the newest picture in Poppy’s Instagram, and my throat closed in on my heart.

It was a perfect Pinterest picture: pint-sized Poppy standing on top of Knight’s helmet in an empty field, her arms wrapped around his neck, both of them lost in a deep, passionate kiss. He was still wearing his football gear, dirty and sweaty and so alive he nearly burst out of the screen. Gorgeous. Victorious. Like a god who’d descended from the sky. Friday night lights shone on the beautiful couple, highlighting his glistening, disheveled brown hair. Against the backdrop of the black night and empty bleachers, they looked nothing short of high school royalty.

The caption read:

We Won! #StillLikeRealFootballBetter #NoItsNotCalledSoccer #KnightColeForPresident #MineMineMine

The pen I’d been chewing slipped between my fingers, and I bent down to pick it up, hitting my head on the edge of my desk. I lost my footing. I didn’t even feel the fresh wound on my forehead. I patted it, confused, feeling warm, thick liquid between my curls.

“Jesus, Luna! You’re bleeding! We need to go to the nurse.”

The nurse glued my head, which, of course, was super fun. Then she gave me a painkiller and asked me to promise her to be less clumsy next time. I nodded—what else could I do?—thinking deep down it was ridiculous to ask me to be less clumsy. No one chose to be clumsy. It was hardly a trait one tried to excel at.

But sure, I would try to be less clumsy.

Less quiet.

Less of a screw up.

More normal.

Less dead on the inside. Because that’s what it felt like—seeing Knight moving on with another girl.

I needed a drink. And I needed it bad.

Knight had a girlfriend. Of course he had one. Of course. Or he wouldn’t publicly kiss her. Everyone knew the infamous HotHoles weren’t about public displays of affection. Yeah, they were just like their dads had been—hot assholes. Hence the name.

Knight, Vaughn, and Hunter completely disregarded the fairer sex as a concept. Publicly, anyway. Knight didn’t have just any girlfriend, either. Poppy was love material. Beautiful, kind, and sweet. She was probably the reason he’d stopped texting me. God, what a fool I was—telling him I missed him, coaxing him to answer me.

As soon as April and I got back to our room from the nurse, I took out my phone and texted Josh.

Luna: I need a drink.

The message was seen before I could put my phone down.

Josh: Is that your way of accepting my party invitation?

Luna: Yup.

Josh: I have a better idea. Meet me at the stables.

Luna: …

Josh: !!!

Luna: We’re not supposed to be there after hours.

Josh: Didn’t you tell me you want to use teenage as a verb?

Luna: Yes. My stepmom tells me to do that all the time.

Josh: Well, she’s right. Trust me?

Funnily enough, I did. I did trust him. Was it insane that I put my faith in this stranger? Was I going to get burned?

Luna: I’ll be a little bit, but I’ll get there.

I dragged myself to the communal showers. My gut twisted and clenched as the hot stream hit my body, and the Instagram image of Knight kissing Poppy played in my head, on a loop.

I threw up straight into the drain, the sound of the water drowning the retching.

The barn was located behind the main college buildings, on a rolling green hill, surrounded by a low wooden fence, overlooking a water tower. The stable looked almost like an ordinary house, red-roofed and swan white. It nearly glowed in the dark as I pedaled my way toward it. I left my bike propped against the fence and hopped over. A trickle of fear slithered in my empty stomach. Everything was dark, silent, and deserted.

I’d always been shy and reserved, but never cautious. I was actually a tomboy. Edie had taught me how to swim and surf at a young age. Dad encouraged me to loosen up and take risks. He’d signed me up for a martial arts class so I could defend myself, but told me not to be scared of boys, so I never was.

I knew Dad would cheer for me, had he known I was meeting Josh.

Edie would be elated.

But Knight? He would be angry. Furious. Betrayed. Even though Josh was exactly what I needed. Maybe if I’d taken more risks, met more Joshes and Aprils in my life, Knight and I would be together today. But then I’d never have met Josh and April at all, never left home in the first place.

Knight wanted to keep me small and his, and the dumbass that I was—I’d let him have his way.

But not anymore.

I was drained from collecting small pieces of romantic moments like shattered glass, tired of brief encounters with my best friend: half-finished kisses, friendly hugs that lingered. His hot erection pressing against my leg one dawn, shortly before I went to college, while we slept together. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt his erection, but it was the first time he hadn’t pulled away. We’d both opened our eyes at the same time and stared at each other for a beat, his penis twitching against the side of my thigh. He’d thrust once before he turned away from me with a lazy smile. Stretching. Yawning. Denying what had just happened.

But Josh wasn’t like that. Josh didn’t have enough baggage to keep an airport busy.

I jammed my hands into the pockets of my blue All Saints hoodie (the only thing I’d found that was relatively clean) and jogged to the barn. I closed the door behind me, relishing the warmth of the animals, so big and hot in their stalls, radiating heat.

The minute I entered the barn, I heard something crunching and released a breath. I knew it was Josh’s way of showing me he was here. He couldn’t talk, but he still found ways to communicate with me. He stood on the other side of the stable, next to the stall of a beautiful, black Arabian horse named Onyx. He was the youngest horse in the barn and always requested extra petting time whenever I was there cleaning or feeding the horses.

I surprised myself by launching at Josh, suffocating him with a hug. Only when I was in his arms did I realize how much I needed that hug, how I craved to be put back together after being broken by a simple picture.

When I pulled away, I blinked.

Josh lifted his hand between us, holding a bottle of Everclear.

“Say hello to your date.” He winked.

“That’s it? Not even dinner? Straight to business?” I signed, grinning.

“What are you implying?” His eyes bulged.

“Nothing. What are you implying?” I chuckled.

This was fun. Easy.

He laughed and shook his head, producing a bottle of cranberry juice from behind him and two Solo cups. He poured a shot of alcohol into each, then filled them with cranberry juice. He unlocked his phone and put on a tune. The band was called Drum Kithead. The singer had a voice like liquid lava, and Josh bobbed his head with a small smile, not an ounce of bitterness in him, clinking his glass with mine.

“We’re riding this evening.”

I didn’t want to refuse him—not when he was the only person I could stand to be with right now. I took a sip of my drink. It was horrible, but I ignored the burn scorching my throat.

“Bareback,” he added, causing me to choke on my drink.

“Because it’s more natural and stuff,” he explained.

“I don’t know how to ride.”

“I’ll teach you. You’ll be a natural.”

“How do you know?”

He looked at me with eyes so full, I didn’t doubt he really saw me through them.

“Because you’re always on your bike. You already have the balance. The core.”

We finished our drinks and led Onyx outside. I knew what we were doing was wrong, and that if the owners found out, they’d behead Josh and fire me from my volunteer work. But it was difficult to deny ourselves things when we already felt so robbed—robbed of our voices, our ability to speak our minds, robbed of being normal.

He mounted me on the horse and climbed atop, settling behind me. Josh communicated with Onyx by pressing his boot to the horse’s side or tapping its head. Adrenaline rushed through my veins. Onyx was huge, but gentle. Josh’s chest bumped into my back as Onyx galloped forward, and I heard my friend hissing voicelessly behind me. Josh’s groin bumped against my behind. Again and again and again. Until it stopped bumping and started…grinding. Not on purpose, I don’t think. I swallowed, trying to decode what I was feeling.

Offended? No.

Annoyed? Not that, either.

Scared? Not by a long shot.

Instead of being mortified of jumping from no-base to third-base, I was…enthralled.

It felt good. Him. Hot. Hard. Pressing against me. At first he tried to scoot back, give me my space. But when I wiggled my butt on purpose and looked over my shoulder with a smile, he deserted his inhibitions and ground into me with delicious intent. Heat burst in my chest, trickling down to my lower belly, exploding between my legs. I found myself leaning forward so my butt pushed against him, grunting as silently as I could. Josh and I had never discussed the circumstances of my muteness. He had no idea there was nothing wrong with my voice, but with my head.

When we got off Onyx, we were both panting. I pulled the hem of my hoodie down to cover lower body, because I didn’t know if my jeans now had a lust stain the size of my head. Josh led Onyx back to his stall and returned, looking down and shifting from foot to foot. I felt like I needed to somehow apologize to the horse for what had happened on top of him. Not that it was intentional…but, still.

“Hug?” Josh asked, probably as a peace offering more than anything else.

“Please.” I smiled.

Josh squeezed me again. Hugging like a parent. A hug that wasn’t to take, only to give.

“What do you want to do now?” his heart whispered as his hands signed.

I could read Josh fluently, because I understood his struggle. And he was a wonderful, open book I wanted to drown in.

I closed my eyes, hearing Vaughn’s words again. Edie’s. Dad’s.

Move on.

Use teenage as a verb.

He is happy. Be happy, too.

There was no menace in my next move, not an ounce of bad intention or vindictiveness. Still, I took Josh’s hand and pressed it against my breast, holding my breath and bracing myself. The world tilted, turning upside down, and as my stomach flipped, even I had to admit—he felt almost as good as the real thing.

I popped one eye open, the dull pain in the back of my head seeping through my skull. Wincing, I remembered the Everclear. I wasn’t even drunk, so I couldn’t blame whatever had happened between us on that. I was relatively sober, and a lot heartbroken, and Josh was…Josh. Perfect and safe and beautiful.

God. What have you done?

Rubbing my face tiredly, I examined my surroundings. My walls, my desk, my navy blue-sheeted bed.

Wait…blue?

I bolted upright in an instant, stifling a groan when my body reacted by sending a ball of nausea to my throat. Again—this must’ve been my lack of experience with any type of booze, in any quantity. I glanced to my right, and there lay Josh, bare-chested, snoring softly. His arm was flung over my thighs, and when I looked down, I realized I was naked, too. I scanned the rest of the scene frantically as I pieced last night together into a full picture. I remembered watching in awe as my nipple disappeared inside Josh’s mouth, imagining Knight doing it to Poppy. How, to shake off the infuriating visual, I’d pulled Josh closer, spreading my legs for him. His hands had stopped fumbling with my hoodie to ask me if I was sure. I’d nodded.

“I’m a virgin, but I want this.”

“Luna…”

“I’m tired of feeling precious, Josh.”

I hadn’t wanted to be left alone with my thoughts, and Josh’s mouth and hands were the perfect distraction. He’d sneaked me into his dorm room, and when we’d walked in, he’d taken off his shoes and stared at his socked feet, like he was trying to decide something, locked in an internal battle.

He’d shaken his head a little, chuckled to himself, and walked over to the door, taking one of his socks off and slipping it on the door handle.

We’d started kissing. Then he’d backed me to his bed, and we fell into it and started doing other things. He’d asked me if I was sure again, and I’d rolled my eyes, pushing down the light-headedness and queasiness I’d been feeling.

I’d wanted to wash Knight Cole off of my body after what I’d seen. Wanted to fill myself with Josh. Safe, sweet Josh. Josh, who I would come back to after Thanksgiving. We’d ride Onyx and study at Starbucks and be a couple. A normal couple. I would never have to wonder where I stood with him.

“I take this very seriously,” he’d signed between us.

Suddenly, I’d taken it very seriously, too. Us. Things were fresh and crisp and uncomplicated. I hadn’t seen him kissing other girls, or flirting with them, or texting them. He wasn’t the town’s football hero, the knight every princess wanted to be saved by. He was simply…Josh.

The first time he’d entered me, I’d closed my eyes and squeezed the muscles of his shoulders. The second time, my mind glossed over, and all I could think about was the moment we were sharing. The third time, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’d rewritten my fate by doing this with him. That Knight would know. That whatever we had shared would cease to exist.

And it felt morbid. Like I’d lost a part of myself—a huge part that anchored me to the ground. But I also felt…relieved, empowered by a decision I’d made all on my own. Without Knight holding my hand. Without seeking silent permission in his cool gaze.

Back in reality, in this strange room, with the strange boy-smell of socks and aftershave and physical sports, my eyes traveled to the trash can next to his door. I peeled off the blanket, tiptoeing my way to it and peering inside. I saw the knotted condom, with traces of blood, and white, thick liquid swimming inside it.

I’d done it. I’d had sex. Here I was being sexual, and daring, and normal. I’d never gone that far back at home. Not with Knight. Not at all.

Then the full realization of what I’d done hit me, and that it wasn’t with Knight.

It should have been Knight.

I closed my eyes, mouthing the word no so loud I was pretty sure Josh would hear me if he was awake.

No, Knight doesn’t get to intrude this moment, too.

No, he doesn’t want me. He wants Poppy. Beautiful, put-together Poppy.

No, I can’t believe I did this.

No, no, no.

My phone pinged on Josh’s nightstand. His dorm room was so much bigger than mine. He and Ryan had nightstands and even shared a little closet.

One missed Skype call from Knight Cole.

Three new text messages from Knight Cole.

Knight: Finger feeling better. Heart’s still feeling trash. We need 2 talk.

Knight: No more fucking games. Time to face the music.

Knight: I can’t wait to hold you. x

What was he talking about, hold me? Why did he sound like he didn’t have a girlfriend? Like the kiss with Poppy had never happened? Was it my imagination running wild? No. April had seen it, too.

I opened Poppy’s Instagram again, and sure enough, the photo was still there. Three hundred thousand Likes, no less. Way too much for a high school kid. She only had about ten thousand followers. Nothing about this whole situation made sense.

I scribbled Josh a note, telling him I needed to catch my flight home—which wasn’t a lie—and I’d text as soon as I landed, which I promised myself wasn’t going to be a lie, either.

On my way to my dorm, I passed the cafeteria adjoining the different housing sections of the college. I spotted Ryan napping on a table, probably because he’d given Josh the room for the night. I bought him a croissant and a huge cup of coffee and asked the barista to give it to him. Then I got myself the greasiest grilled cheese ever made in the history of bread and cheese and chugged two gallons of water to try to fight my hangover from hell. I sneaked into my dorm and locked myself in the showers, not coming up for air until I was sure my body didn’t smell of anything other than soap.

But it did smell of something.

Something I had no business feeling.

A sour, tangy scent I couldn’t shake off.

A mistake.