Emancipating Andie

chapter ELEVEN



Andie stood behind the bar at her father’s restaurant, a clipboard in her hand as her eyes scanned the shelves of liquor.

“This is ass backward, you know,” Tracey said, twisting back and forth on her bar stool like a child as she sipped her Cosmo through a straw.

“What is?” Andie said, lifting her eyes for a moment.

“Isn’t the bar patron supposed to be the one spilling her guts? It’s rarely the bartender pouring her heart out.”

Andie leaned over the bar and playfully rapped her friend on the head with the clipboard. “First of all, I’m not tending bar, I’m doing inventory. And second of all, you’re the one milking me for information.”

Tracey smirked. “Yes, and I’ve clearly been twisting your arm. It’s been like pulling teeth getting you to talk about this Chase guy.”

“Shh!” Andie said, her eyes flitting nervously around the bar before she put down her clipboard and buried her face in her hands. It had been two weeks since she’d returned from Florida, two weeks since she’d seen or spoken to Chase, and although she hoped that time would erase the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of him, if anything, it had only made it worse.

She knew part of the reason she felt the way she did was because she’d had no closure. And on top of that, she hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone, keeping what had happened, what she was feeling, to herself out of confusion and guilt. But it wasn’t going anywhere. She knew that now. And she realized the longer she let it go, the more it would fester.

She needed to tell someone.

So she called Tracey as the restaurant was about to close and asked her to stop by. It wasn’t unusual for her friend to come hang out at the bar while Andie was working. But this time, as soon as Tracey sat down, Andie unloaded, spilling the entire story, starting with their initial meeting at Justin’s engagement party over a year ago and ending with the abrupt way they had said good-bye in Florida. If anyone would give it to her straight, it would be Tracey. She was sure of that much. And maybe that’s all she’d need to purge him from her system—a good, strong dose of tough love.

“Why can’t I stop thinking of him?” Andie mumbled into her hands.

“Because you’re a red-blooded woman,” Tracey said, placing her drink on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Fantasies are healthy. You’re only freaking out because you’re so straight-laced all the time.”

Andie dropped her hands from her face, but her eyes remained downcast.

“I know, Andie,” Tracey said, suddenly sympathetic. “I know why you’re like that, as much as I make jokes. But the thing is, you’ve been that way for so long, and along comes this guy who rattles your cage.” She shrugged casually. “Of course that’s going to stick with you.”

“I love Colin,” she said firmly, as if she had to defend the notion. “So why can’t I get Chase out of my head?”

“Because you feel like it’s wrong, and so your subconscious is screwing with you. Which is also normal. Everyone wants what they can’t have. It’s like, a human condition or something,” Tracey said, leaning forward to sip her drink.

“Human condition,” Andie repeated softly, nodding her head, clinging to any explanation that would absolve her of her guilt.

“Think of it this way,” Tracey said, folding her arms on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Your brain is like a teenager from some tight-ass, super-strict upbringing who’s going away to college for the first time. You’ve kept a tight rein on it for so long, and now that it’s broken loose, it’s running rampant like a little drunken whore.”

Andie burst out laughing, shaking her head as she picked the clipboard back up.

“Don’t get freaked,” Tracey consoled her, picking up her drink and sitting back in her chair. “Like I said, this is normal. Fantasies are healthy,” she added, her eyes following the guy who was walking past the bar to the men’s room, flashing him a sexy smile.

Andie followed her gaze and rolled her eyes; he was Tracey’s typical type. Good-looking, with enough of a “bad boy” edge to make him mysterious. She looked back to her friend sitting at the bar, twirling her straw in her drink as she smiled to herself, throwing little glances in the direction of the men’s room, no doubt waiting for his reappearance.

Andie would never understand it. Tracey had only one long-term relationship in her life: her college boyfriend, Nate. He was so amazing, in every way, that Andie often found herself feeling a bit jealous of their relationship. He was sweet and attentive, but masculine. He was well read and intelligent, but he was funny and sociable. And so adorable, but yet had this understated sex appeal. After they broke up, Tracey started going for guys who were Nate’s exact opposite. Andie understood what she was doing at first, because what girl would want to date a guy who was exactly like her ex? But it had been a couple of years now, and Tracey had never gone back. She continued to go after the wrong type of guy, time and time again, even though it clearly wasn’t working for her.

A moment later the bathroom door opened, and Tracey’s person of interest for the evening reappeared, his eyes finding hers as he rounded the bar again. He smiled a cocky smile, lifting his chin in greeting as he walked past her. Tracey smiled and bit her lip, holding his gaze before she turned back toward Andie, quirking her brow.

She felt a slight sadness for her friend at that moment, and she wasn’t sure why. After all, who was she to pass judgment after spending the past hour ranting about a man who was not her boyfriend?

Andie continued taking inventory as Tracey finished her drink, the conversation taking on a much lighter tone as she watched her friend shoot “come hither” looks to the mystery man from the bathroom. About ten minutes later, Andie was able to fully devote her attention to the task at hand when said man sauntered up to the bar, flashing Tracey his arrogant smile and effectively ending their conversation.

Tracey and her new friend Dave were the last ones to leave the restaurant, and as Andie gave her friend a hug, she whispered the obligatory gentle warning in her ear, to which Tracey responded with the standard, “Of course I’ll be careful.” It was a dance they had mastered over the years.

One by one, her staff began to leave the restaurant, and Andie lingered, finding things to clean and organize. She didn’t want to go home yet, not while her mind was still spinning. Tracey had promised her that what she was feeling was normal. Just a run-of-the-mill human condition, the desire for something that was immoral. Happens to everyone.

So why didn’t she feel reassured?

About a half hour later, she looked around the bar with a sigh, realizing she had exhausted all reasons for staying. Andie draped the rag she had used to wipe down the bar over the side of the sink as she reached below it to grab her purse.

And then she froze, spying the bottle of Grey Goose.

Before she even consciously decided to do it, Andie was back behind the bar, fishing through the refrigerator compartment and coming out with a lemon wedge. She grabbed the container of sugar, dipping the wedge into the glittery granules until it was coated before placing it gently on a napkin. Then she reached above her and pulled a shot glass down from the shelf.

“What are you doing?” she asked herself quietly as she poured a shot of vodka. With a deep breath, Andie lifted it to her lips. “To the human condition,” she toasted, before tossing her head back and draining it. She flinched, reaching quickly for the lemon and popping it into her mouth, allowing the sugary lemon juice to take the bite out of the shot.

She blew out a slow breath as she tossed the lemon rind into the trash next to her before she closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep from her throat to her stomach and out through her extremities.

She remembered the last time she felt this way, the pleasant heat coursing through her, suddenly intensified by his words.

Will you dance with me?

She opened her eyes, reaching for the bottle again.

To her surprise, the second one went down much smoother, the sugared lemon chaser serving as a treat rather than a necessity.

Andie stood there for a moment, her hands on the bar and her eyes closed. Her body felt warm and loose, and she rolled her neck slowly, relishing the feeling. Her thoughts felt beautifully uncluttered, the guilt that had been on the forefront of her mind for two weeks now floating somewhere in the distance like background noise.

“What the hell,” she said, reaching for the bottle one more time. She hadn’t driven her car to the restaurant that night; it was only a ten-minute walk from her apartment, and finding parking there was usually a nightmare on weekend nights.

She took the third shot, this time not even bothering with the lemon chaser before she cleaned up after herself and placed the bottle back beneath the bar.

The walk home seemed to pass more quickly than it usually did, with the cool air on her skin and the streetlights peppering her path. Andie noticed that the edges of things took on a fuzzy quality, almost like she was walking in a dream, and she caught herself smiling like a fool at absolutely nothing more than once.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment, the dream-like fuzziness increasing somewhat as she reached her door, and she giggled to herself as she stumbled backward a bit when she looked down to get her keys out of her purse. She rummaged through it, gently at first, and then with a touch of panic.

“Shit,” she said, dropping her arms to her sides and letting her head fall back. Of course tonight would be the night she’d leave her keys at the restaurant. Just as she was about to turn back toward the stairwell, she froze, remembering that she had placed her keys on the small table in the entryway as she ran back to her bedroom to grab a hair clip before she left for work.

And she never picked them back up.

She turned back toward her door and fell forward, thumping her forehead on it three times before she finally just left it pressed up against the wood. This was so unlike her. She never did irresponsible things like this. Ever since she had returned from Florida though, it seemed to be a common occurrence; she was scatterbrained, she would daydream at inappropriate times, she couldn’t write a thing to save her life, and she was constantly finding things about Colin that irritated her.

And then, of course, there was the reappearance of the dream.

She opened her eyes and rolled to the side so that her back was pressed up against the door, and she slid down the front of it until she was sitting on the floor. Tracey had a spare key, she remembered, but no sooner than that idea popped into her head, she dismissed it. She knew her friend, and she knew what she was doing right now. There was no way Tracey would answer her call. Nor would Andie want her to.

She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone, sending Tracey a text message instead, explaining the situation and asking her to call as soon as she could.

She could call Colin and sleep at his place tonight, she thought. But if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t want to. All she wanted at that moment was to be alone with her thoughts, in her bed, in her house.

She stared down at her phone, her thumbs running over the keypad, and then suddenly, they were moving.

Stupid Lemon Drops got me locked out of my apartment.

She sent the text before her hazy mind could even condone or object to what she had just done, and she rested her head back against the door, a tiny laugh bubbling out of her throat. She felt amazingly indifferent.

She had almost fallen asleep against the door when the sound of her phone ringing jolted her from her daze.

She fumbled with it for a second before she brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Lemon Drops, huh?” he asked, and Andie thought her heart might beat out of her chest. She sat up straight, her vision blurring for a moment before it righted itself.

“I didn’t think you were a fan of those,” Chase added.

“I wasn’t. I’m not,” she said, her voice quavering slightly.

“Can I ask how they got you locked out of your apartment?”

“I forgot to take my keys with me when I left for work tonight.”

“Hmm,” Chase said. “Well, that could hardly have been the result of the shots you hadn’t taken yet, but it’s nice to have alcohol as a scapegoat for idiotic behavior, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” she sighed, leaning back against the door and reaching up to play with the doorknob.

“Doesn’t anyone else have the key to your apartment?”

“My friend Tracey.”

“Well, did you call her?” he asked.

“She’s…occupied,” Andie said with a roll of her eyes, absently twisting the locked doorknob above her.

“Hmm, okay,” Chase said, his voice taking on a throaty caliber that caused a fluttering in Andie’s stomach. “Are there any windows you can climb in?”

“I’m on the second floor, remember? And they’re locked anyway.”

“Of course they are,” he said. “I forgot who I was talking to.”

“Oh, right,” Andie retorted, her hand falling sloppily from the doorknob, “because only anal-retentive people lock their homes when they leave them. Normal people leave their doors and windows wide open. With little neon signs on them that say ‘Drifters and Robbers Welcome.’”

“Drifters?” he asked through a laugh. “Are they an ongoing problem in your complex?”

Andie pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “I hate you,” she finally managed.

“Why don’t you just break in?”

“Break in?” she echoed incredulously. “What do you think I am?”

“It’s your own house!” he laughed. “Everyone’s done it at least once in their life. Use a credit card.”

“That only works in the movies,” she said, but she rolled awkwardly to the side and pulled herself up on her knees, examining the doorknob. Did she even have a credit card on her? At this point, she’d be willing to try anything. She just wanted her bed. She cocked her head to the side and held the phone with her shoulder, struggling to regain her balance before she started rummaging through her purse again. “Alright, I give,” she sighed. “How do you do this credit card thing?”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” she heard Chase say, although his voice sounded strange, almost like an echo. She went to switch her phone to the other ear, freezing when she saw something in her peripheral vision.

She slowly turned her head to the side, and her heart leapt into her throat.

Chase stood a few feet away, smirking down at her as he took the phone away from his ear and ended the call. “Look at you, you lush. You’re lucky I happened to be on my way past here. It’s a little cold tonight to sleep on your doormat.”

Andie sat frozen, her cell phone still to her ear, staring up at him.

He smiled. “You can hang up now.”

Andie blinked quickly, snapping herself out of it as she yanked the phone away from her ear, pressing four buttons before she hit the right one to end the call. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed, trying to sound composed.

Chase gestured toward her door. “Helping you.”

“No, I mean, what are you doing here?” she asked. “By my apartment?”

“My friend Benny runs a poker game once a month. He lives a few miles from here. I was just on my way home. Lucky for you.” The touch of condescension in his tone reminded Andie of their first encounter in Justin’s basement, and it made her blood race in her veins all over again, only this time for a different reason.

He approached her, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out some metal object that looked like a cross between a long needle and a pair of pliers. He stopped in front of her, and she stared up at him, not knowing what to say next. He quirked his brow, the smile returning.

“Oh! Sorry,” Andie said, scooting awkwardly to the side and giving him access to the door. He laughed, squatting down next to her, running the tip of his finger over the front of the lock and leaning in to examine it.

Andie stared at his profile: the angle of his jaw, the sexy tousle of his hair. Her inhibitions were growing as fuzzy as her vision.

Chase glanced over at her. “So here we are again. You, me, and a locked door,” he said with a smile that caused Andie’s stomach to turn somersaults.

“Do you realize how shady it is that you drive around with a device used to break into people’s houses?” she blurted out, and he laughed before he turned his attention back to the lock.

“The lock on my apartment is a bit…temperamental,” he said, inserting the long end of the tool into the keyhole. “After dismantling my door a bunch of times, I finally realized it’s just easier to own one of these.” He nodded toward the tool in his hand as he brought his other hand to the knob, holding it steady as he rolled his wrist slightly, maneuvering the needle-like end in the tiny hole.

She watched as he pulled his brow together, concentrating as if he were performing surgery, and for a second she could see him as the doctor his father wanted him to be.

He scooted a little closer to the door, a little closer to her, rolling his wrist a little faster now. She could smell him, she realized, closing her eyes and inhaling a slow, deep breath.

A sharp click sounded right above her head, causing her to jump, and Chase twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. He turned to her with a smile. “Piece of cake,” he said before rising to his feet and reaching his hand out to her.

She gathered her purse and slid her arm through it before she held both hands out to him, and he clasped them, pulling her up off the floor. She stumbled slightly as she got to her feet, and he reached forward just as she grabbed onto his forearms, steadying herself. Their faces were only a few inches apart, and they both froze.

After a stunned second, Chase spoke softly. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

They remained still, her eyes locked on his. She had almost forgotten what those eyes were capable of. Her heart thudded frantically, and she was not too drunk to realize that the moment had officially crossed into awkward territory. She had her balance now. There was no reason for her to continue clinging to him the way she was.

She watched as his eyes changed, a guilty look washing over them before he dropped his stare. “Andie,” he said, releasing his hold on her, “I have to tell you something.”

Her heart was slamming against her chest now; she felt like her whole body was thrumming with the force of it. “What is it?” she whispered.

He took a small breath, his eyes still downcast. “I read it.”

Andie blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I read it,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “Your book.”

She shook her head slightly. “My book?” Her mind was too hazy to follow him. He lifted his eyes then, reading the confusion on her face.

“The one you’re writing,” he clarified.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. Her eyes widened slightly as she straightened up, pushing away from him. “You what?”

She felt the blush burning on her cheeks, embarrassment and anger fighting for control in her body. “How is that even possible? When?” she asked, taking another step away from him.

Chase looked down again. “In South Carolina. The night we watched Dumb and Dumber.”

“What!” she shrieked, ripping her purse from her arm and slamming it down on the table in the entryway, sending her forgotten keys scattering across the floor with a metallic clattering sound. “How dare you! You went through my computer?”

“No, no,” he said, holding his palms up in surrender, his eyes full of remorse and a touch of panic. “When the movie was over, I turned off the player, and you had left the document open…and I just…I read the page that was open and then…I just kept going.”

An awkward silence prevailed as he trailed off uneasily, and embarrassment started to win out over the fury surging through her. She hadn’t ever thought anyone would read what she wrote; she had composed it with that mentality. Her pipe dream was to be published, but the truth was, she felt like what she had written was extremely private. He was staring at her, obviously waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t speak. Instead she stood staring at him, at the only person who had really seen inside her mind, terrified of what he was thinking.

“Why aren’t you taking yourself seriously?” he asked, and Andie froze, completely taken off guard. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again without saying anything, and he shook his head slightly. “Why are you wasting away in that restaurant when it’s so obvious this is what you were meant to do?”

She continued to stare at him, completely at a loss for words, and he closed his eyes, frustrated by her silence. “You don’t even get it, Andie. You don’t see the world the way other people do. And when you let your guard down, the way you think, the way you say things…you make people look at things differently. You make people feel things. And I just…” He trailed off, running his hands down his face, and Andie took a step forward, holding onto the doorframe with her hand.

“Finish it, Andie,” he finally said, looking up and meeting her eyes. “Just…be proud of what you’re doing and finish it.”

Andie swallowed, her eyes stinging slightly. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that her emotions had been on overdrive for two weeks, but his encouragement, his approval, made her feel like she would burst into tears. It was the first time she felt like what she was doing was real.

“Say something,” he said.

She blinked, looking away from him. She didn’t know what to say. How could she express what she was feeling without sounding overly emotional or saying something she’d regret? Uncertainty and vodka and longing and guilt and gratitude and desire swam through her system, a heady mixture that made her feel completely incompetent.

Chase exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. “You know what bothered me about your book?”

Her stomach dropped as she realized the rug was about to be pulled out from underneath her. “What?” she said, her voice so soft she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.

“Your main character. She’s so ridiculously self-aware. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and exactly what she needs.” He took a step toward her. “She doesn’t wait for anyone’s approval. She sees so clearly what the best things for her are, and then she makes those things happen.”

“What’s your point?” Andie whispered.

“She’s you!” Chase shouted, startling her. “Jesus Christ, Andie, she’s you! You made her. You write what she thinks, what she feels, what she wants, what she believes. Don’t pretend that’s not you!”

All the breath left Andie in a rush, and she brought her other hand up to the doorjamb, steadying herself. She had never felt so utterly exposed and vulnerable in her entire life.

“Chase,” she stammered.

He took a step forward, composing himself, his voice softer but his eyes significantly more intense. “Why do you hide? Why can’t you just be brave and do what you want instead of what you think you’re supposed to do?”

Andie looked at him, and suddenly they weren’t talking about her book anymore, and they both knew it. She shook her head quickly, breaking eye contact, because she was terrified of what would happen if she didn’t.

“Chase, I can’t live the way you do.”

Suddenly his fingers were under her chin, lifting her face as he leaned in toward her, and for a breathless second, Andie thought he might kiss her.

“Have you ever even tried?” he asked softly, his warm breath washing over her lips, and then suddenly he was gone. Andie stumbled forward slightly at the loss of contact, her skin now feeling cold where his fingers had touched her only moments before. Her eyes focused just in time to see him thrust his hands into his pockets and disappear down the stairs.



That night Andie sat upright on her couch, fighting sleep for as long as she could, because she knew exactly what would happen the second she fell into unconsciousness. But the day had been too long, and as the three shots of vodka gradually had their way with her, she lost the battle.

It started a little differently tonight.

Andie walked into the wine cellar, and as she approached the nearest wall of wine, she heard the door slam shut behind her. She turned around to see Chase staring at her, and she smiled at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then all at once he was up against her, pressing her into the door behind her.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered. But suddenly, it wasn’t Chase. It was him. And they weren’t in the wine cellar; they were in the upstairs bathroom of the homecoming party. And he was kissing her neck. And even then, amid the unease that was beginning to swirl in her gut, Andie remembered thinking she was lucky. How she couldn’t believe this was happening to her.

Derek O’Donnell was a senior. No, Derek O’Donnell was the senior. He looked like a model, like he didn’t belong walking through the halls of a high school. A three-sport athlete with a wit and charm that won over every single adult in the building.

And every single girl in the school.

Andie watched him from afar, like every other ordinary girl. She had often heard him referred to as a “ladies’ man” by the adults in the building, but Andie knew that was an understatement. Girls threw themselves at him, girls that were older and more beautiful and more experienced than Andie. He was the untouchable dream. And Andie was infatuated.

Her mother once found a notebook of hers on which she’d drawn a huge heart with their names in the center. The rest of the cover had been decorated with the words I love Derek in all different sizes, styles, and colors.

“That boy’s too old for you,” her mother had said, tapping the book firmly with her index finger.

“No he’s not,” Andie had protested softly. “He’s in high school, just like me.”

Andie’s mother shook her head firmly, spinning the book around to face Andie. “You don’t love boys like this. Na agapas me to kefali sou, kai tha eisai asfalis,” she said, tapping her temple. “Love with your head, and you’ll be safe.” She straightened up, her eyes on Andie. “You love with anything else,” she had said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “you find yourself in big trouble.”

Andie had rolled her eyes at the warning. It didn’t even matter; it wasn’t like she’d ever have a chance with him anyway.

And then came that Thursday afternoon when he approached her after volleyball practice.

She stood there like a deer in headlights, absolutely stunned. Derek O’Donnell, talking to a freshman? And when he asked her to come to the homecoming party that weekend, she felt a thrill course through her body like nothing she’d ever felt before.

She begged Tracey to go with her, finally managing to convince her after a long struggle, even though Tracey told her that Derek was a “man-whore who probably just wanted to get into her pants.”

Andie knew it was just jealousy speaking. After all, he had plenty of opportunities to “get into the pants” of other girls. He didn’t need her for that. He was genuinely interested in her. She could just feel it.

She and Tracey lied about being at each other’s houses that night, and when they arrived at the party, Derek grinned. Every time he handed her a drink, he winked. And every time he put his hand on her back, her neck, her upper thigh, she felt bolts of electricity sizzle through her body. Being next to him, having him touch her, was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

She felt turned on. She felt sexy.

She felt powerful, having the attention of this boy.

A little later that evening, Andie had gone to the bathroom, and when she opened the door, he was standing there. He backed her into the room and shut the door behind him, and at that moment, Andie was afraid. Afraid that she would make a fool of herself, afraid she wouldn’t know how to kiss, that she would use too much tongue, or not enough, afraid she wouldn’t be good enough for him.

She was afraid of all the wrong things.

He approached her quickly, backing her into the glass of the shower door behind them as he started kissing her, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep up. It was sloppy, and forceful, and her head kept banging into the glass door behind her.

This wasn’t at all how she’d pictured it would be.

His hand came to her breast, squeezing it firmly, and she tried to protest, but his tongue was in her mouth, making speech impossible.

Instead, she gripped his wrist and tugged. When his hand came free, she was relieved, until she felt it quickly slip underneath her skirt. Before she could react, his fingers were inside her. She flinched, standing up on her toes to get away from the pressure and the pain. Andie gripped his wrist, tugging again, but this time he couldn’t be budged.

“Can you stop? Please? You’re hurting me,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“Shh,” he said against her lips. “I’m helping you, baby. This is never going to work if you don’t loosen up.” And then his mouth was on hers again before she could even comprehend what he meant.

Her head was swimming, and suddenly he shifted his hand, causing the pain between her legs to increase, and she whimpered in spite of herself.

“Shh,” he said, kissing her again, the back of her head banging into the glass of the shower once more.

Somehow Andie managed to rip her mouth from his, and she turned her face away from him, pressing her lips together. His mouth was immediately on her neck, his hand planted firmly between her legs, and that’s when Andie saw her.

The girl was terrified, her eyes wide, all the color gone from her face and her knuckles white as she gripped the back of his shirt.

It took her a second to realize she was looking in the mirror.

By that time her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and she felt him pull her panties to the side. She hadn’t been aware of him undoing his pants, she hadn’t even heard a zipper, but all at once, she knew what was about to happen.

Desperate, she brought her hands up to his chest, pushing with everything she had in her, but it was like pushing against a wall. The cold shower door behind her provided no give, no escape.

She felt him try to enter her and she yelped loudly.

“Shhh!” he hissed, angrily this time, pressing his hand to her mouth so abruptly that her head slammed back against the door with a loud bang. She felt it reverberate through her vision, and for a second, everything went blurry. She wanted it to stay blurry. She wanted to disappear within herself. “You’ll like it once we get started,” he said. “You’ll see. Just relax.”

He kept his hand over her mouth, silencing her as he thrust against her again, but it was in vain. He tried over and over, the movement of his hips becoming more determined as he tried to fully sheath himself inside her, the throbbing burn between her legs increasing with each attempt.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit him. But she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

He jerked his head back suddenly. “Would you f*cking relax!” he snapped, just as a knock sounded on the door. He froze, his fingers still pressed securely over her mouth.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yo, O’Donnell, hurry the f*ck up!” someone called through the door. “We’re starting the next round of beer pong!”

“Alright, gimme a second,” he said.

It was silent then, the only sound being the rapid thrumming of Andie’s heartbeat echoing in her ears and the muted sounds of the party on the other side of the door.

He finally turned back toward her. “This isn’t worth it,” he said with disdain, pushing away from her as he buttoned his pants. “Put yourself back together,” he added with an irritated nod in the direction of her skirt.

Andie’s whole body was trembling, and she reached down nervously, her fingertips gripping the hem of her skirt and tugging it down in shaky, jerking motions.

He turned to leave the room but stopped suddenly, looking back at her. “If you tell anyone about this, you know what will happen, don’t you?”

He stared at her as if he were waiting for an answer, but she remained silent, wishing he would just turn the knob and disappear. He turned to face her again, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“They’ll know you’re lying,” he said. “I’ll tell them you threw yourself at me. That you f*cked me against every surface in this goddamn room. And everyone will know what a whore you are.”

He turned back toward the door, cocking his head over his shoulder once more. “And I’ll tell them you sucked at it,” he added for good measure. “So if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut.” He winked at her before he turned and yanked the door open, disappearing amid the crowd and the laughter and the talking, the cheers coming from the beer pong table.

She backed up then, trying to get away from him, from the party, from the entire night.

This was the point she always woke up. She’d stumble backward, her back hitting the cold glass of the shower again, and she’d burst into tears, waking in tears that were just as real as they were that night.

But this time, as she backed up, it wasn’t a rigid shower door behind her.

It was warm, and soft, and comfortable.

Two arms wrapped around her, and instead of retreating from their touch, she leaned into them, closing her eyes and feeling the security envelop her.

“It’s okay, Andie,” Chase whispered softly in her ear. “I’d never hurt you.”

Her eyes flipped open as she bolted upright on the couch, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Her whole body was shaking so violently that her teeth were chattering, and she brought her knees into her chest, hugging herself as she tried to stop the incessant trembling. She wasn’t sure if it was a result of the dream itself, or the new way it had ended, but a cloud of overwhelming guilt descended over her, mixing with the fear the dream typically invoked.

The sheer weight of it pinned her to the couch, and she closed her eyes, trying to fight her way back to the surface.

After about ten minutes of deep breathing, her body was still quivering and her stomach was churning relentlessly.

She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Andie leaned over and grabbed her cell phone, hitting the speed dial for his number. She just wanted things to return to normal. She wanted to go back to a time when she felt happy and secure and confident in her choices again.

“Andie,” he answered, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’s wrong? Everything okay?”

“Hi, I’m sorry to wake you up,” she said. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just…I need you. Can you come over?”

She heard the sounds of him shifting in his bed. “Now?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Colin made a noise in the back of his throat as he stretched. “No, it’s alright. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and he ended the call.

When Colin arrived twenty minutes later, Andie was still sitting on the couch, her knees pulled into her chest and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey,” he said softly, shutting the front door and pulling off his jacket. He was wearing a sweatshirt and track pants, his hair still rumpled with sleep.

“Hi,” Andie said sheepishly. “Thank you for coming.”

Colin smiled then, moving toward her and bringing his mouth to hers as he pressed her back onto the cushions.

Andie made a surprised noise against his lips, gently kissing him back as he crawled above her. She felt his hands push the blanket off her shoulders, and then his mouth was on her neck as he used his thighs to open her legs before settling between them.

“Colin,” she said.

He hummed softly as his hand made its way up her shirt, finding her breast and running his thumb over it as he pressed his hips in to hers.

“Colin,” she said again. “Wait.”

“What is it?” he said against her throat. “I’m here now, baby. I need you, too.”

It took her a second to process what he’d said, and as soon as she did, she felt like the world’s biggest idiot. Of course that’s what he thought she meant. What else would he think? She had called him in the middle of the night and asked him to come over. I just need you, she had told him.

Colin ground himself against her, bringing his mouth back to hers, and Andie brought her hands up to his shoulders, pushing him back slightly. Their lips broke contact with a tiny grunt of protest from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked through his labored breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Andie trailed off, running a hand over her eyes. “That’s not what I meant when I said I needed you.”

Colin pushed himself up slightly on his arms, and Andie opened her eyes, looking up at him.

“What did you mean then? What’s going on?”

She took a tiny breath. “I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. I had a bad dream,” she said softly, and even as the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded.

Andie watched his expression turn from perplexed to amused. “You had a bad dream?” he asked, fighting a smile.

She nodded beneath him.

He chuckled softly as he lowered himself back down to her. “Poor baby,” he crooned in her ear before he ran his tongue over the lobe. “Let me make it all better.”

“No, Colin, stop,” she said, shifting beneath him again. “I’m serious. I just…I don’t feel right.”

He pushed himself up onto his arms again, looking down at her with his brow furrowed.

“Can we just talk?” she asked.

“Talk,” he repeated. He inhaled deeply before running his hand down his face. “Yeah, we can talk.”

Colin lifted off of her and Andie shifted, pressing her body against the back of the couch to make room for him. He laid on his side and faced her, gripping her hip and pulling her against his body. Andie buried her face in his chest, and she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.

“What was the dream about?”

Andie closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled into his shirt, and she felt him take a deep breath before he exhaled heavily.

She could tell he was disappointed, although she wasn’t sure if it was because she had made him come to her apartment in the middle of the night over a dream she wouldn’t even tell him about, or because he thought he was coming over for sex and just got turned down.

She felt like she should give him something, she just didn’t know what. She knew she couldn’t bring herself to have sex with him, though. Not right now, with her emotions jumbled up the way they were. And she definitely wasn’t ready to talk about the dream.

Andie had been keeping so many things from him lately, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only way to make it better would be to offer something of herself up to him in this moment. Maybe doing so, even if it were the smallest thing, might be a step in the right direction.

One step closer to the way things used to be.

“I want to write a book,” she said suddenly, holding her breath as she waited for his response.

Colin reached up and smoothed his hand over the back of her head. “What kind of book?”

Andie felt her heart pick up as she smiled into his shirt. “A love story.”

He shifted beside her, pressing his lips against the crown of her head as he laughed softly. “You’re cute.”

Her smile dropped, and her heart immediately followed. “I’m cute?”

Colin nodded against her, kissing her head again.

“How is that cute?” she asked hollowly.

He leaned back, putting his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “Don’t sound so wounded. I’m paying you a compliment.”

“Not really,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t want to be called cute. I want to be taken seriously.”

“Okay,” he said, running the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Well, if writing is what you want to do, then why not apply to some magazines, or a local newspaper?”

Andie blinked up at him, and he added, “If you want to be taken seriously, I just don’t see love stories as the way to go. It will be much more gratifying if you write something that has some substance, you know? Something people can respect.”

She continued to stare up at him and he smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead before tucking her head back underneath his chin.

She could have argued. She wanted to argue, but she didn’t have it in her. His words had taken all the fight out of her, and with it, the shred of hope that momentarily flared in her chest when he showed interest in the idea of her becoming a writer.

After all, there was no point in arguing with him. Deep down, she had expected this very reaction. This was Colin. He was realistic. He was practical. He was levelheaded. He made well-thought-out decisions that involved little or no risk. She knew this about him. She loved this about him.

She thought she loved this about him.

All she had wanted tonight was some peace of mind, some reassurance that this confusion was just a phase, that she and Colin were going to be okay.

But as she lay there in his arms, she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

Andie closed her eyes, trying to focus on the traits she had always found so appealing in him. That steadfast and unyielding logic that used to make her feel comforted, reassured.

Stable.

Instead, she felt unsettled. She felt frustrated. And as she pressed her lips together, fighting the growing sting behind her eyes, she realized that above everything else, she felt like she was smothering.