The next afternoon I told Ryan I was running to the corner store for tampons.
He was sprawled on the couch in our living room, controller in hand, eyes glued to the TV screen, barely looking up as usual.
“Cool, babe. Grab me some chips if they have the spicy ones,” he mumbled.
I smiled sweetly, grabbed my purse, and walked out the front door.
I didn’t go to the store.
I walked straight across the shared lawn, up Jace’s three steps, and pushed his back door open without knocking.
He was in the kitchen, shirtless, jeans low on his hips, drinking a beer straight from the bottle. The second he saw me his eyes darkened, bottle lowering slowly.
“Does your boyfriend know you're here baby girl,” he said, voice already rough.
“I lied,” I said, kicking the door closed behind me. “Ryan thinks
