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.