Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LAKE

80 bobas left until we both die …

“I was in the shower, and I didn’t hear you.” Tam stumbles over such a simple statement, and then stares me down like he needs me to believe that.

Except you’re out of breath, and your hair is wet, but your eyebrows are dry.I’m not buying it, I hesitate slightly, stepping backward off the front step. I feel so stupid standing here now, with all of these groceries. What it looks like is that Tam either didn’t know I was coming or doesn’t want me here. To be fair, he hasn’t replied to a single one of my texts in the last few days.

I was so excited about coming here to stay with him that I didn’t even let myself think—

I drop the grocery bag to the ground and clap a hand over my mouth.

“You blocked me.” The words are a whisper because I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did that would prompt him to do that. I thought we were getting somewhere with our relationship. True, he still hasn’t broken up with Kaycee, but … I was going to ask. I was going to ask him to do that.

“I … no,” Tam says, but then he looks down and closes his eyes, sighing as he reaches up to ruffle his hair with his fingers. “Yeah. I shouldn’t lie about this. Here, let me get your bag.” He pads outside in bare feet and snags my duffel by the strap. I try to steal it back from him, but my hands are full, and he holds it up and out of my reach anyway. “I work out six days a week, remember? I can handle this.”

“You better have a good reason for blocking me without telling me why.” I hesitate just inside the front door as Tam tosses my bag over his right shoulder like it weighs nothing. I don’t look at the strong muscles in his bare back or how they move as he turns to look over his left shoulder at me.

“I’ll tell you. Just … let me get dressed.” He turns back around to head up the stairs, and then his towel droops, and I gasp. I actually gasp, but Tam catches it at the last second, and I don’t see anything at all. I turn away and start cursing myself in my head. Very subtle, Lake. I’m sure he didn’t hear the sheer excitement in your voice.

But I just hear Tam laughing behind me.

“I’ll be right back.” He disappears onto the second floor, and then I just stand there.

In a foyer that’s bigger than the entire first floor of my parent’s house.

Um.

I look up and the chandelier is big enough to be a death trap, so I sidestep around it and edge over to the living room. This isn’t Tam’s house—it’s an Airbnb—but it’s still weird to be inside of a private home with him. There’s a security team outside; I saw Daniel and some other guy near the edge of the house. But nobody interfered with me? Why?

Because I’m not a random fan. I’m Tam’s acquaintance now.

Damn, though. To find out that he blocked me? I rub the heel of my hand against my chest and try to shake the disappointment. How could I have expected anything else after telling him that I’m suffering under a magic curse? Joules was probably right: I should’ve kept that to myself.

“Sorry about that,” Tam says, but I have no idea what else comes after that because he reappears in gray sweatpants. Gray ones. Like, every meme on the internet gray fucking sweatpants?! I choke, and then I can’t recover, and I’m coughing as Tam jogs down the steps barefoot, yanking his T-shirt into place to cover his abs.

“Are you okay? Do you need some water?” I’m offered a green and silver water bottle to drink from. His water bottle, the one he carries around with him always. The cup that’s impossible to buy unless it’s a knockoff because Tam made this brand (and especially this color pattern) so popular that everyone wants it.

I take it, and guzzle accordingly, until I can finally block the spasming of my chest.

Shit.

“Water is nice, but do you want me to call Joules and have him pick me up?” I’m being serious as I turn to face Tam in a massive marble foyer with paintings larger than I am hanging on the walls. They’re all of waterfalls or dense, dark forests, and I love that the house has so many windows—even here in the foyer—that show off the foliage all around it. We’re not in the city. This is Pacific Northwest territory. I saw a fern as big as I am outside.

“Lake, I …” Tam perks up, and then abruptly softens, falling back into a more comfortable stance and putting his hand against his forehead. He looks tired again. He always looks tired. I’d cook for him, like I already planned to do, but maybe he just wants me to leave? That’s fine. I can’t … I can’t fucking force him to like me. Either he will on his own or we’ll both die. That’s it. “Me blocking you had nothing to do with you.”

I’m so confused, but I’m also holding meat and dairy products in my hands that have been outside with me for more than forty minutes, and I should probably get them into the fridge. I move past Tam without waiting to hear what he’s going to say, finding my own way to the kitchen as he trails behind me.

He seems confused, like he doesn’t know what to do with me. I’m just surprised that Daniel is outside, and I’m here with Tam … alone-alone? Are we alone-alone again? I pause by the dining table and look around, but there are no deep shadows for Daniel to hide in. I could be wrong, but I don’t think he’s in here.

I keep going and find my way to the fridge, using my elbow to open it. I shove both bags onto one of the empty shelves and tell myself that I’ll only separate out the dry ingredients if Tam wants me to stay. I turn around and he’s right there on top of me, and my breath catches, and I forget to reach out and take the bags from his hands.

“Here.” He transfers both bags to one hand, and then leans in against me, putting them on another shelf. Our fronts are touching in so many places. I don’t move until he does, taking a step back and crossing his arms. He leans back against the counter to watch me as I hover awkwardly in the space between the fridge and the long kitchen island. “Kaycee asked me to block you.”

“Okay …?” I’m asking a question here. I still don’t get it.

“I told her about the curse, and she panicked. My choices were to block you or her, but she blocked me already anyway, so … moot point.” Tam inhales, holds it, exhales, holds it. He’s struggling here, making some sort of important decision. “She told me that if you stayed here at the villa with me, that she wasn’t coming.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Tam,” I tell him, but he just smiles tightly.

“I’ve tried calling her. I emailed her. I had Jacob and Daniel call her. If she shows up, we’ll work this out. Was it a secret, the curse stuff?” he asks me, and he sounds genuinely bothered by the idea that it might be, that he’s done something wrong by telling Kaycee.

I shake my head.

“Everyone knows. I tell everyone. Jacob and Daniel already know. All of my friends know. My family even has business associates who know. Nobody believes it, but it’s harmless enough fluff that they leave us alone. I don’t care that you told Kaycee. I care that you blocked me even though I didn’t change who I was. I never lied to you. I didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

His lips part, and he looks shocked by my statement.

“I can end this whenever I want,” he tells me, arms still crossed over his chest, and I scoff. I storm past him and into the foyer, pick up my duffel bag, and then I leave. I open the front door and start walking. Tam jogs to catch up, completely barefoot and cursing at the wet gravel under his feet. The trees surrounding us are wet, big fir boughs dripping. It smells good out here, nice and damp and wild. I could happily burrow into the soil and live out my days.

I’d rather be a fern than deal with this fucking Tam Eyre.

“I like Thomas, but I can’t stand Tam,” I tell him with another laugh, and then I start jogging and he’s forced to do the same to catch up. Barefoot. On gravel. I hope this is punishment enough for this dick. I stop running, panting white clouds, and I turn to look at him.

He holds out his hand for the duffel bag again.

“I’m really sorry, Lakelynn. Please come back.”

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I would never treat my friends the way you treat me.”

Tam exhales, opens his mouth, and then slams it shut again. Waiting. It starts to sprinkle again, tiny wet droplets on his handsome face.

“If you want to end this, then end it,” I tell him, voice soft. I’d cry, but what’s the point? After losing Joe, this is nothing. Liar. It hurts so bad. My chest hurts so damn bad. “You’re right. I can’t make you like me.”

“I like you, Lake.” Tam sounds earnest enough, honest enough. If we weren’t cursed, I’d leave. But I don’t have that choice. This is my limit. Next time, I walk away—curse or no curse. I don’t deserve to be treated so poorly.

I give Tam the duffel bag, and we start walking back together.

I walk slowly for him, so that he can pick his way back with the fewest wounds possible on his feet.

“Do you think Kaycee will come?” I ask, worrying how that confrontation might go down. I can’t lose this, even if that makes me the bad guy. I have no choice but to play the role of ‘the other woman’. I rub my face and give a tired sigh.

Tam adjusts my bag so that it’s hanging in front of his chest. He wraps his arms around it and looks up at the tree line, his eyes glazing briefly as he takes it all in with wonder. He’s full of wonder, this guy. He radiates it, and I can easily see how he got a following as big as he has. Tam is mesmerizing to look at, and that’s not to mention his physical appearance at all. He could have this charisma and wonderment and look like a walnut, and everyone would love him still. Being pretty is only an added bonus.

But he’s paid a big price for that. He’s guarded, lonely, defensive, wary. His core is good though; he just needs to be called out on his shit. Nobody else does that. Nobody. He’s too busy playing to everyone else’s whims that they don’t have a need to.

“I have no idea,” Tam admits as we get back to the house and he opens the front door for me. He stands aside and then slips my duffel off, setting it on the floor. “But if she does, we can talk in person, the three of us.”

“Four,” I correct, pulling my phone out to text Joules. I look back at Tam when I tell him this, meeting his eyes. “If Kaycee comes and we’re having a talk, then Joules will be here, too.”

Tam works his jaw, but I ignore him, turning away again and heading into the kitchen to separate the groceries. He takes a seat on one of the stools at the island.

“I wanted to contribute something to our stay here, so I bought groceries and thought I’d cook for everyone.” I laugh as I pull items out of the fridge, like the salt and pepper shakers, the paper plates I bought because I didn’t want to use and wash dishes, the box of rice. “Tacos tonight and alfredo tomorrow. There should be plenty of it because I thought I was cooking for four.”

“Can I get your Venmo info to pay for half of the groceries?” Tam asks, not responding to what I just said.

“I’m fine paying for these,” I assure him, but he purses his lips and sits up straight on the stool, getting that stubborn cast to his face that he had when he leapt between me and Joules—twice—to defend my honor.

And then he still blocked me. I force the sense of betrayal down.

“I won’t be able to enjoy you cooking for me if I feel indebted. Please. Just half.”

I give him a look and then shrug. This isn’t a hill worth dying on. I give him the info he asked for and go back to fiddling with the groceries.

It’s silent for so long that I turn around to find Tam pouring two glasses of wine. I just stare at him until he looks up.

“I sent you some money,” he tells me, and my phone pings in my pocket. He must’ve just done it, huh? I pull it out to check my Venmo balance.

$9,600.

Um. I look up and now I’m really staring at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Besides breaking my diet?” Tam smirks. “I’m paying you back for the meet-and-greet ticket you bought.” He pauses as he picks up one of the wineglasses. “Well, not all of it. I kept my fee, but I paid you back the extra from the resale.” Tam reaches out and places the glass as close to me as he can reach across the island. Which, since he’s so tall, and his arm is long, is basically all the way.

I pick it up and take a long drink. Then I set it aside because while it’s nice to have a drink, I am not drinking my way out of this awkwardness. Any progress made while drunk is inevitably lost in a new relationship like this. It essentially doesn’t even count.

“I don’t understand. Why are you giving me money for that?” I ask him, but he doesn’t know how to respond to that either. “Wow, your family was clearly not as pushy as mine. I’m jealous. My family asks dozens of questions and doesn’t stop until you break and answer every single one.” I grin and then turn to grab a pair of seltzer waters out of the fridge. I’m hurt, but I don’t want Tam to know that. “So, where is the pool? I was promised an indoor pool …”

“I’ll show you.” Tam stands up, leading me down a long hallway and through another glass door. It’s nice and steamy in here, the walls and ceiling made of glass to show off the growing PNW darkness. The trees kiss the glass on all sides, making this spot feel both wide-open and closed-in.

“This is incredible.” I pop the top on my can, take a drink, and then set it aside. When I start to tug my shirt over my head, Tam reaches down and takes my wrists. Mine are crisscrossed, grasping the bottom of my shirt. Tam’s fingers curl around them and hold me still.

“Don’t do that,” he tells me, nicely enough that I wonder if he even means it.

“I’m wearing a swimsuit, you dick.” I step away from him, turn, and take my top off. I kick my shoes and pants off next before I climb in. I’m wearing a one-piece and not a bikini because I just don’t feel comfortable in them. Not a sexy bathing suit whatsoever, but it’s functional.

I swim away from Tam, assuming that he’ll leave. Or sit on a chair with his phone. I’m definitely not expecting him to take off his shirt, to kick off his own pants. He is not wearing a swimsuit, but he hops in wearing his boxers, and I’m not complaining.

“What is there to even do in a pool besides work out?” he asks, and I swear. How did the curse pick this guy? He’s not at all what I would’ve chosen for myself. I close my eyes, hold my breath, and sink under the water for so long that Tam moves over to me like he might force me out.

I pop my head up, brush my wet hair back, and glare at him.

“I feel sorry for you, you know that?” I tell him, and then I turn and grab the edge of the pool, pushing myself out and then moving over to a set of weighted rings on a shelf. Each one is larger than the next and marked with a certain number of points. “Move, so I can throw these.”

Tam does, and then watches as I toss the handful into the water and let them sink.

I walk up to the edge of the pool where he’s waiting, and I bend down in my bright red swimsuit, reaching out with a fist and giving him a look.

“Rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first. Least amount of points washes the pots and pans from dinner.”

Tam extends his hand slowly, a smile growing on his face, and we go in one-two-three until I kick his rock’s ass with paper.

“Alright, now move again.” I wave him out of the way, take a few steps, and jump in.

Tam wins the ring toss which is fine because I was going to do the dishes anyway. This villa easily costs four-figures or more per night. How could I stay here and do nothing?

“Want me to get a fire going?” Tam asks, and I assume there’s going to be a fireplace with a button, an electric flame with the flick of a switch. Instead, there’s a large stone hearth with a brick chimney wider than I am tall. He pats my arm when I don’t answer, smiling like he’s excited about this. “I’ll get the firewood.”

Tam puts a jacket on since it’s dark out now, and he sticks his bare feet into boots. The front door shuts behind him, and an automatic porchlight comes on outside. I watch as he walks across the circular gravel drive in front of the house, disappears into a shed, and comes out with a round. That is, a round block of wood from a tree that still needs to be split.

Tam sets it up on a stump near the shed door, hefts an axe, and cuts it in half. Then he quarters each piece, and does it all again until there’s a sizeable pile.

I’m stunned.

“Did you just …?” I start as I open the front door for him, and he appears laden with firewood.

“Did I what?” he asks, setting it down on the stone hearth and then squatting to start the fire. He does use one of the host-provided fire starters which is at least a little more like what I expected out of him.

“Why would an Airbnb make you cut your own firewood?”

Tam laughs at that, rubbing his arm across the lower half of his face to clear away some droplets of water from outside. I think it’s misting right now. That’s what it looked like when the porch light came on.

“They just had a new delivery today. The host said he’d send someone to come cut it for me, but I declined. I didn’t want anyone finding out that I was here.”

Damn. I don’t think like that about people. I’ve never had to think like that about people. But Tam is considering whether the employee that was sent to cut the wood might film him or post his location online. That’s not a life I’d want to live, personally.

Getting with Tam is going to require a sacrifice of some of the things I love most in life.

I try to get used to the idea of that. If we start dating, it’ll get out. Everyone will know. I’ll be photographed and followed and filmed. I’ll be loved by random people, but I’ll probably be hated by more.

The faster I can break the curse, the better. Then I can decide where Tam and I go from there.

“Where did you learn to cut firewood?” I ask, giving him a look. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you seem like a city boy to me.”

Tam grins and then shakes his head, standing up and leaving a nice, slow start to tonight’s fire.

“The handkerchiefs, the bandages, the opening doors stuff. It was all my dad. The firewood, too. We lived in northern Washington, close to the border.” Tam shrugs and then he moves around me and into the kitchen. When he opens the fridge and starts doing the snack lean, looking for something to eat, I know it’s time to cook.

“Ready for tacos?” I ask as he steals the lettuce and opens it, taking out a few leaves and stuffing them into his mouth.

“That sounds perfect,” he says softly, eyes half-lidded. Ouch. When he’s thinking about food, he looks dreamlike, content and excited at the same time. Oh. Handsome.

“Are you snacking on plain lettuce? It’s so sad that I can’t decide if it’s real or if you’re playacting for me.”

“I always forget to playact around you,” he admits, like he’s sorry about it. Maybe he should be? He’s certainly nicer to other people. I hope that changes. If it weren’t for the curse, I would’ve already left. I should tell him that, so he understands.

“Please answer the question about the lettuce,” I tell him as we trade places, and I take his spot in front of the fridge. He stays with me, sitting on the same stool as earlier. He’s wearing those goddamn gray sweatpants and a tight, white T-shirt. I’ve got on a loose T-shirt of my own and a pair of black exercise pants. We’re both barefoot. Our hair is wet.

It’s very quiet in that house, especially when it starts to rain outside. It feels like the water is creating a curtain between us and the world.

I bet you Joules assumed that Tam would block me, and he dropped me off on purpose.

“Did you just stand here and watch me out the window for forty-five minutes?” I ask casually, getting out a cutting board so that I can chop the vegetables for pico de gallo.

“I …” He sighs and sets the lettuce aside. “Fuck.” My head jerks up as I see him drag his fingers through his hair. “No, I was pacing. I didn’t know what to do. I hoped you’d stay, but I told myself I should want you to leave. Kaycee is my girlfriend, and I barely know you.”

“I know.” I swallow and dig my knife into an onion. I think about what Joules said, how Kaycee and Tam have a contract that means they have to date publicly. That they’ve never had sex. That he doesn’t kiss her off camera.

I want to ask him if he loves her, but would I be setting myself up for failure?

I wash and dry my hands, and then grab my phone to pick a playlist. I make sure that there are none of Tam’s songs on it before I press play.

When a song comes on that Tam knows, he sings it. I’m not even sure he’s aware that he’s doing it, borrowing one of my cutting boards to slice an avocado. He cuts that while I do the tomatoes. He mixes up the pico de gallo while I brown the meat. He grates the cheese while I fry the shells.

We sit down together on the big couch in front of the fireplace, one of us at either end of the long, leather couch.

“Rock-paper-scissors for movie choice?” Tam asks, turning to me, and I grin. We each set our plates in the middle, hold out our hands, and fight to the death. I win. “Are you cheating?” he asks, like he’s half-serious about it, and I just laugh.

“What sort of movies are you into? If you say romance, I’ll die.”

He shakes his head.

“I like a little bit of everything,” he says, but it’s said in a weird, low tone that has my lower belly contracting. “I could go for a comedy tonight, though.”

“Done.”

I scroll through some new offerings, pick one with decent reviews, and hit play. We sit back and work on our food together. I finish three tacos, and Tam has nine in total (all wrapped in lettuce). He can wolf them down in two bites without trying, and he does it sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, and without dropping a single crumb.

Impressive.

Why do I like watching him eat so much? I force myself to stop, retrieving our dessert options from my purse.

“I’ll let you pick,” I tell him, holding out an apple in one hand and a candy bar in the other.

“This is a joke?” he asks, and I can’t hold back a grin and a shake of my head.

“I figure that I win either way. One, I get the candy. Two, you spare me the calories from the candy. See what I mean?”

Tam steals the candy bar, and I frown over at him several times as I’m forced to eat the apple.

“Want to workout with me in the morning?” he asks absently, and I laugh at him.

“Describe the word morning,” I command, taking another crunchy bite. Tam nods, and I swear, he sucks on the candy bar to taunt me.

“Ten?” he asks, and I get the idea that this is late for him, that he’s moving the time for me. I nod. He smiles. My heart goes absolutely nuts. Sitting here alone in the dark with him is changing my perspective. It would definitely be hard to stay just friends with Tam. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t do it under normal circumstances (as in, without the curse), but I really like him.

I’m crushing on him.

I’m crushing on him, and he blocked me.

I’m falling first, just like Joules warned me not to do.

“I’ll go to bed after this,” I breathe, turning back to the movie. I make myself focus on it until I finish my apple. I toss the core, grab a new drink, and then try to get as comfortable as I can on that single square of couch.

“You can stretch your legs out if you want,” Tam tells me, so I do, encroaching on that center cushion until my toes are a breath away from his thigh. Five minutes later, when he adjusts himself, we’re touching. He’s unconsciously man-spread his legs, and now my toes are tucked underneath his thigh.

Tam must notice it, but he doesn’t react and neither do I.

I’m the first to call it a night in the hopes that Tam does the same.

“Please go to sleep,” I tell him as I stand up, but he’s at least turning the TV off and rising to his feet beside me.

“I will.” Tam sounds sincere and thankful at the same time, trailing me silently up the stairs to our rooms. He put me in the one across from his. We pause together in the long hallway and then turn awkwardly toward each other at the same time. “You make me feel sixteen—in a good way,” Tam tells me, and then he smiles, walks into his room, and shuts the door.

I stand there for several seconds, fumble my phone from my pocket and text Joules frantically.

What does it mean? I demand when it takes too long for my brother to answer my first text explaining the situation.

It means that you were right, and I was wrong. You’re doing good, Canoe. Just show him how wonderful I already know you are.

I’m … a bit confused at that response. While it does sound like Joules, it’s not how he usually is. That’s how I know for sure that whatever it is he’s lying to me about is bad. I have to put more pressure on him so that he’ll tell me. How can I help if he won’t?

I set my phone aside with an alarm for ten, crawl under the blankets, and turn the bedside lamp off. My room is huge, this gargantuan suite with a four-poster knotty-pine bed for ambience and plain white bedding that can be bleached between guests.

When all is quiet, I close my eyes and put my hand between my legs. My finger slides down the seam of my pants, and I writhe. That feels better than usual. I’m so attracted to Tam right now that I’m having trouble thinking about anything else.

With a frustrated sigh, I roll over and retrieve my phone and my earbuds case. I pop both of them in and relax into the pillows.

With Tam’s music video for “Break Up With Me” playing on my phone, I put my hand back where it was. I stroke myself lightly with a single finger, watching him descend a set of stairs in a cloak of feathers. He’s got on a hoodie and a pair of jeans with it, his hair catching the light as he lifts his sweatshirt up to expose his abs. The dance move that follows is like a body roll that drops him to his knees. He fists his hand in the sweatshirt as he belts out the lyrics, rolling his head back on his neck. The camera zooms in on that angelic face with a devil’s mouth.

Tam is so, so pretty, but he gets edgy very quickly. With the right lighting, the right style, he doesn’t look so nice anymore, and I guess that’s the appeal.

I’m rubbing myself frantically through the fabric now, huffing and panting. I kick at the sheets, but my gaze remains locked on that video. I think about the heat of his thigh through his sweatpants. I think about water streaming down his strong shoulders and over his muscular arms when he climbed from the pool.

I tell myself that in order to break the curse, I’ll have to find out what those rough hands feel like on the rest of my body.

I entertain a guiltless fantasy. I’m alone in my room. Tam doesn’t know about it.

I push my pants down and then kick them to one leg, discovering the well of wet heat at my center with a gentle circling of my finger around my opening. So slick. And all because my foot was tucked under Tam’s thigh?

The curse gives me the excuse I need to put my anxieties aside, and I exhale to release the tension.

Once I do, I feel my body redirect all of that energy to the parts of me that ache the most. My breasts want to be touched, so I drop the phone onto the pillow beside me. I give myself a squeeze with one hand, and I think about Tam’s palms brushing over my breasts in the dark of the escape room.

I acted like it was nothing, but it was most definitely something. I wanted to press into his touch. I do that now, arching my back and pushing my chest into my own hand. His music is still working its way into my blood through the headphones, curling warm fingers of desire inside me. It spreads like hot, sticky honey over my skin as I break that barrier between my legs. I push, and two fingers slip right in.

Oh. Tam. Thomas.

I conjure up images of his pretty hair, jutting out at random angles from beneath his beanie. I recall the way his eyes met mine across the tabletop as he took my wrist in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the curse mark. I repeat the scenario in the escape room a dozen times over.

My fingers push past tight inner muscles, and I realize that my body is contracting to thoughts of Tam. I’m moving my hips and fluttering around my own fingers like he’s the one inside of me. I fantasize about him opening the bedroom door and finding me like this, climbing into bed beside me, putting his mouth on the side of my neck.

With a frustrated sound—I just don’t have enough hands—I abandon my breasts and drop my other hand to the swollen bud of my clitoris. I can barely stand touching it, even when I borrow my own lube to make it a little slippery. It’s too intense, but I can’t wait. I yank my panties back up my leg, tug them aside so that I can enter myself again, and I pet my clit through the fabric.

It’s just this side of too much. It’s also just this side of not enough.

I use my hands to the best of my ability, but I’m not very experienced with this, and I don’t know myself very well. I don’t know any sort of tricks to make myself come, to relieve the tension wound tight inside of me. With a moan of frustration, I roll onto my side and tuck a pillow between my thighs.

I clutch at another pillow and try to breathe.

I’m not going to get release tonight. I’m not going to be able to banish these X-rated thoughts of Tam or Thomas or whoever that man is in the room across the hall from me.

One thing that I do know is this: he needs to break up with Kaycee, so that we can move forward.

It isn’t fair to either Kaycee or me for us to keep going like this. Tam likes me, I know he does. I like him. And even if he … if he blocked me … I bury my face in my pillow to stifle a scream of frustration, and then I exhale to let the tension go.

Tomorrow. I’ll ask him tomorrow.

I fall asleep with Tam’s music as a lullaby.