"What happened?" I asked again, my voice strained from holding back my sob.

He held me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Dimmy. I'm so fucking sorry." He repeated the words over and over.

Then he showed me the pictures on his phone.

I spent the next two days and nights throwing up.

And the next two weeks in a zombie state. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I didn't talk to anyone.

Ethan begged me to press charges, but I just wanted to forget it. He said I was stupid, and we fought about it. I didn't say goodbye to him when he packed up and left for college.

I didn't take care of my mom, who hadn't even realized that something had happened to me.

Ethan drove two hours home, almost every day to take care of me.

And then one day, out of nowhere, I picked myself up, sold all my shit, left mom behind and flew to New York.

I knocked four times before Ty answered. And when he did, he was shirtless, his jeans roughly pulled up, his fly undone. But that's not what I noticed. All I could see was the girl in his bed, with the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding what I'm sure was her naked body.

"Dimmy?" I heard. I knew it was Ty, but he sounded far away. The girl in his bed's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect O.

"Dimmy?" she repeated.

"Huh?" I said, then managed to pull my eyes away from her to look up at Ty. I don't know which one of the two hurt more to see.

"Tyson?" the girl asked. Her voice was laced with confusion, but behind that, there was a plea.

He stood there, between his past and his future, looking from one to the other.

Finally, I spoke, "I'm sorry, Ty," I said, looking him clear in the eyes. And then I turned and walked away. He called out, but I didn't stop. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I didn't know where I would go. I didn't want to go home. I couldn't face it another day. I couldn't stay in New York. And I was broke. I left his dorm and sat on a bench just outside, waiting for something to change. Hoping that something would happen soon. Because I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

It was only a few minutes before he came out, bed girl in tow. I watched as he kissed her goodbye. I could see the panic on her face, but his body language was re-assuring. He kept shaking his head, holding her hands in his. He walked her to her car and waited until she drove away before looking around. I saw his body visibly relax when he saw me, his hand going up in a small wave. I tried to smile, I just couldn't.

He took a seat next to me and nudged my leg with his. I didn't speak, and neither did he. Not for the first hour.

"Where are you staying?" he asked quietly.

"Hotel," I lied. I had no idea what I was doing.

"Have dinner with me first?"

I couldn't. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Ty, with your girlfriend and all."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Ali—that's her name."

I nodded and tried to compose myself. Seeing a girl in his bed hurt, but not as much as him admitting that he belonged to her. Ali and Tyson. I rolled their names around in my head.

I couldn't even be mad about it. I had no right. It was my fault.

"So you and Greg, huh?"

My eyes snapped to his. "You know?"

He looked confused for a moment, "That you started dating my best friend? Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna lie, Dim, I'm pretty pissed off about it."

I breathed out, relieved.

But then something else took over, and I broke down.

For the next four hours I sat on that bench and told him everything. About Logan, about breaking up with him, about what happened the weeks after, all the way up to the night of the bonfire.

He sat quietly and listened to it all. When I got to the part about the pictures, his head fell between his shoulders. His grip on the bench caused his knuckles to turn white. I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

"You should have told me earlier," he stated, when I was done speaking.

"I couldn't," I cried.

"Dimmy." He sniffed back his own tears. "I'm so fucking sorry that that shit happened to you. I should have been there. You should have told me. I could have come for you. I could have done something—anything. You'll always be important to me. I'll always love you," he said.

But just not in that way.

Not anymore.

After a few more minutes of silence, I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand and said, "I better go check into the hotel."

He nodded, standing too, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You came for one night?" he asked. I could tell he knew I was lying, but neither of us was going to call each other out.

"Uh huh." I lied. I planned on staying forever. "I guess I'll see you around, Ty."

He jerked his head in agreement, but said nothing.

I held back my sob.

Then he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes from the sensation. I hated being hugged, and he knew it, but right then, it was perfect. He was perfect.

And then he kissed me.

It was the saddest fucking goodbye in the history of the entire fucking world.

I didn't want him to pull away. I wanted to stay in his arms, with his mouth on mine, forever.

But he did. He pulled back and said, "Take care, Amanda."

I cried the entire walk to the twenty-four hour diner three blocks away. I didn't even care about the concerned looks people were giving me. At the time, it felt like I had lost everything that meant anything to me.