It was one confused girl who came home to my apartment that night. The idea that I loved Talbot was taking some getting used to, but I was making progress. Then there was Monica. She loved Talbot, that was clear, and she was worthy of him, too. I was the competition she never wanted. Why did she like me, and why, as hard as I tried to hate her, couldn't I? I know Mom said I couldn't hate her, but she's Mom; she's supposed to say things like that. What if she was right, though? What became of the protective covering that the scared little girl who still sometimes lived in my skin so desperately needed? "Just be yourself," Mom had said. How did I even do that? I got nowhere with that, so I found something else to think about.
"Something else" was worse. I had kissed a cop. I mean, really ki
