“Teagan, you’re the best fucking friend I’ve ever had. I’ve never told you that, but now you know. And there’s about to be an ocean between us. I can’t complicate your life and then leave. I won’t do that to you. You mean too much to me.”

That was the most ridiculous statement I’d ever uttered, because this was already complicated.

Her face crinkled in torment. “What do we do with the time we have left?”

“I don’t know. I’m very confused. We just need to be careful.”

“What does that mean?” she repeated.

Fuck if I know. “Maybe study upstairs instead of down here,” I said, though it killed me. Our study sessions were my favorite part of the week.

Even as I said it, my hand traveled over to touch her hair. I ran my hands through the strands as she closed her eyes. It reminded me of what she’d done the night I slept in her bed. I’d fallen asleep as she massaged my hair.

I wanted to pull her toward me and claim her mouth again, but instead I leaned in and placed a single kiss on her forehead before forcing myself off of her bed. It might have been the most mature decision I’d ever made.

“I should go upstairs.”

She wouldn’t look at me as she said, “Okay.”

Teagan seemed downright gutted, and there was no one to blame for that but me. I’d kissed her, led her on, and told her there wasn’t a chance for us.

Nice work, arsehole.CHAPTER NINETEEN* * *TEAGANI suppose the one good thing about avoiding being alone with Caleb was that we were making a point to hang out together more outside of the house. He’d meet me at the aquarium after my internship and we’d walk around downtown, browsing the stores or getting something to eat.

As for our study sessions, we moved those upstairs to the spare living room, a space no one ever used because there was no television there. It finally had a use—as a cockblocker.

Caleb had also been picking up extra hours at the restaurant. He didn’t say why, but I suspected it was to send money home to his mother. I knew he felt like he needed to help with his father’s rehab costs. From what he’d told me, though, his mother had been having trouble convincing his dad to get help this time around, so he’d yet to enter a program.

One Saturday afternoon, I thought Caleb was at work, but instead he came to find me downstairs. He stayed in the safe space of the doorway as he asked, “Have any interest in going to Harvard Square this afternoon? I have the day off. Archie and Angela want to meet up there.”

I didn’t have to think about it. With the days until Caleb’s departure dwindling, I’d take any opportunity to hang out with him, especially outside the house where things were “safe.”

“Yeah. That sounds awesome. I haven’t been there in a while.”

“Cool. We’ll leave at three, then?”

“Sounds good.”

A giddy excitement came over me whenever I knew I’d be spending time with him. Even though we’d discussed setting a clear boundary between us, going out together always felt like a date—minus the physical contact.

Lately, I found myself being very passive aggressive, though. I’d wear clothing that clung to my body, put on a little eye makeup, and do my hair so it was long and sleek. I played up my sexuality, because as much as I knew he was leaving, I still wanted him to want me, and I still held out hope that he would kiss me again. That was an immature and selfish way of thinking, but I couldn’t help it. I was completely smitten. I was tempted to tell him I wanted him anyway, even if he was leaving. Would it make me seem cheap to admit such a thing? Maybe I was kidding myself, thinking I’d be able to survive the outcome of that.

Caleb’s eyes widened when he entered the foyer where I was waiting at 3PM.

“You look really beautiful,” he said.

Chills ran down my spine. “Thank you.”

His heated gaze trailed down my body, then up again and lingered on my eyes. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah.”

Even walking alongside him made my body react. The entire way to the trolley line, I had the urge to grab his hand. But I didn’t. Regardless of how I was feeling, I would never make the first move again. After all, it was me who’d kissed him that night. Technically, he’d never initiated anything.

It was chillier than I’d expected. The temperatures were forecasted to be on the warmer side, but apparently not mild enough to be without a jacket. I hadn’t worn one because I didn’t want to ruin the look I’d worked so hard to achieve—you know, the look I stupidly hoped would make Caleb lose control. As we waited at the trolley platform, he took off his hoodie and placed it around my shoulders.