I pause mid-step. “Oh, shit, please Lord baby Jesus, tell me you’ve never slept with him because I’m just starting to like you and I don’t know how that would work—”

“Especially since y’all were going at it in your closet. Geeze.” She laughs at my mortification. “Yeah, I heard—even with earbuds in—and no, Z and I never hooked up.”

I squint. “But it was one of them?”

Her face hardens, a flat, tight look there, and I realize I wouldn’t want to be on the opposing side against her in a fight. “There was a hockey player, yeah.”

“Which one?”

She twists her lips and shrugs her slender shoulders. “I’ve vowed to never speak his name.”

“That bad?”

She scowls. “Once they cheat, I’m done.”

She’s my sister from another mister. “Been there, my friend.”

She arches a brow. “So. Are you using Zack to get over your ex?”

“Ah, no. My ex has zilch to do with it.”

She raises a brow. “So what’s going on?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I find that I can’t respond. I shrug and she frowns as we walk inside. I set the flowers next to the daisies.

“The sex is incredible, isn’t it?” She gives me a careful look.

“Is it that obvious?”

She nods. “He has quite a reputation.” My stomach clenches at that, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Just…tread lightly. Don’t fall in love with him.”

No falling in love. That’s the number one rule…

Right.

My gaze roves over the two sets of flowers, one plain and sweet, the other rich and heavy. “He sends flowers to every girl…when he’s done,” I mutter under my breath, trying to reconcile that image of him with the guy who was in my dorm room.

“Exactly.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

How did I get myself in this situation? You know why, Sugar. You wanted him and you let him in and now here you are, just another notch on his bedpost.

27

Sugar

What are you doing?

The text from Zack pings on my phone the next day as I’m rushing to class from the student center. I’m late—as usual—for astronomy, which I took on a whim but has turned out to be a pain in the ass. Who knew studying the stars would be so damn hard?

I ignore the text.

I haven’t heard from you. I take it you don’t like gardenias? You just seemed like a lush kind of girl…

I push my phone down further inside my purse. Part of me knows I need to respond to him, need to address how pissed I am, but right now, I’m not ready.

Inside the little general store at the student center, my hands tighten around my backpack as I pay for my morning sugar, a red slushie drink, and head out to the quad. I brush past a few girls on the way out of the glass double doors, and I’m stunned to see them looking at me and then giving me an assessing, snooty look. I come to a stop right outside the entrance. I swear I heard one of them say Zack. I sigh, once again reminded of his social status. They’ve probably seen his Instagram account where he’s posted some pictures of us. Everyone thinks we’re an item, and here I am dressed for the role of hot girlfriend in leggings, Chucks, and a baggy Welcome to Pawnee, Indiana sweatshirt. My hair is in a messy bun, and all the makeup I had time for was a swipe of Midnight Madness red lipstick. The name is fitting since I barely slept last night, tossing and turning with dreams of Z and my dad.

They’re probably wondering who the hell I am and how I got him. I grimace. I get it; he’s a thoroughbred and I’m a mixed breed, short-haired pony.

Whatever.

I push thoughts of him down deep as I trudge through the early morning crowd toward the law building. My anger builds with each step. He was all into me and now nothing?

A male voice calls my name from behind me and I keep on trucking. Bennett. I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

“Wait! Sugar!”

Nope. I throw a glance over my shoulder, and he’s moving at a full jog on the sidewalk now, brushing past co-eds with his backpack as he runs.

Everyone is staring at him and then looking at me, and I know him well enough to know he’ll just keep calling my name until I stop. Determination is the one common denominator he and Z share. Outside of that, they are completely different.

I stalk over to a bench near an oak tree and wait.

He slows his pace, a smile crossing his handsome face as he approaches. He’s wearing jeans and a Violent Femmes shirt I bought him, showcasing his tattoos. Mostly roses and skulls, I’m surprised to realize he’s never really told me what they mean—unlike Z.

His hair flows back from his face, deep with color and wavy, brushing the sides of his chiseled jawline. Damn. The man is fine. But like my mama used to say, He’s a pretty turd in the punchbowl.

My shoulders go back when he stops in front of me but I don’t return his smile.

“Hey.” He eases his backpack down to the ground and leans in to give me a hug—a super awkward hug that I don’t want, but part of me gives in because, well, we’re in public and we did spend two years together.

I stare up at him and he looks back, a soft expression in his eyes.

I sigh. “Hey. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He huffs out a laugh and looks up at the sky. “I wanted to see if you got the daisies.”

Daisies…oh. I nearly forgot. I think about them back in my dorm room, collecting dust.

“I don’t recall us ever having a conversation about daisies.” I arch my brow, curious as to why he keeps sending them.

He shrugs, calling attention to his broad shoulders, which I see are without a jacket today even though it’s cold. His biceps look bigger and firmer too, as if he’s been working out.

He laughs. “We went to the flower market one weekend, and you kept looking at them.”

I tilt my head, truly curious now. Is it possible that for two years, he never really knew me? “But you never asked if they were my favorite.”

He frowns. “I know you better than you know yourself, Sugar.”

He does not know me! Betrayal churns, that familiar feeling I get when I picture him in that car. “I’m not a daisy kind of girl, actually.”

“Oh?” He brushes at a stray hair that’s come loose from my ponytail and tucks it behind my ear. “What flower is your favorite?”

I frown. “I don’t know.”

“See!”

I shake my head. “Maybe I don’t like flowers at all. Maybe I’m a love note person. Maybe I like diamonds instead.”

I didn’t mean to say that last part, about diamonds, but his face brightens. “Do you want to get serious, Sugar? Are you asking for a ring?”

WHAT? I feel myself recoiling.

“No.”

He pauses. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with you. You’re grouchy. Are you PMSing?”

I sigh at his obliviousness. “Bennett, it’s not me who’s wrong. It’s you. Yeah, maybe we weren’t right for each other and that’s what pushed you to have sex with that girl, but we…we are over.”

His expression grows earnest as he comes closer to me until there’s only a hair’s breadth between us. “We didn’t go all the way. If you’d give me a chance to explain—”

“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? There is no hardline definition of what cheating is to me. You. Were. With. Her.”

He shakes his head, trying to deny it, but I won’t stop, not now that words are spilling out, and I think I’m glad to say them. Perhaps I shouldn’t have waited so long to have this conversation with him.

“Maybe we worked before, but we grew apart,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You want me to be someone I’m not, and when I didn’t give you what you wanted, you looked to someone else. Whether or not you actually penetrated her vagina is irrelevant. Eventually you would have gone all the way anyway—with lots of girls, probably—until I found out. I can’t…I just can’t let that go.”

“Please, Sugar.” His hand is on my arm, tugging, and my half-empty red slushie spills to the ground.

He barely notices.

I pull back from him and he shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing around me, slicing his hands through the air to emphasize his point. “I just need you with me, supporting me. I need a full-time girlfriend. After we graduate, I’ll be on the road and I want you with me.”

I’m not his main groupie! But I don’t say that. I want to keep this civil.

“You need someone to pat your head and tell you how awesome you are.”

He stops and scowls, his lips tightening. “That’s mean. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I pick up my empty drink cup and tuck it inside my backpack. At least I’m not going to litter. “Have a nice life, Bennett. Truly.”

“Don’t say that.” He walks back to me and grabs my elbow, his grip tighter than it should be, and I look down at his strong, tanned hand, the one that’s cupped my face a hundred times. My eyes linger on the silver infinity ring on his finger, the one I bought him for his birthday. His gaze follows mine and he loosens his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He caresses my arms and grabs my hand. “And the ring? I still wear it, Sugar. I still love you and I’m just trying to prove it. I want to work this thing out—”

“Let her go.” The low male voice comes from behind me and we both turn.

Z.