COCO REFUSED TO let go of me, and Lulu refused to stop barking, taking short repetitive breaks to rub up against my legs.

"I wish we could start this past weekend all over again," the former said into my shoulder, her warm breath tickling the skin there and resurrecting sensations from yesterday. The truth about what Takoda and I had done only seemed to really sink in after I woke up this morning, and I couldn't take a shower without remembering all the places his lips and hands had been.

A shiver wrapped itself around my spine.

"I have this interview thing today and it feels so painful to go back to work after the amazing time I had."

"There's always another weekend," I told her, my voice sounding detached, faraway from my body, even to my own ears.

I was only physically present.

"Say hi to Mom for me." She pulled away, finally breaking the hug, but left her hands on my shoulders. I offered her a smile I knew didn't quite reach my eyes. I just wanted to go back home and cry.

"I will. Come visit soon and take me out for donuts."

"Of course."

I took my suitcase from where it stood next to me and was about to tell her a final goodbye when Takoda appeared in the foyer, my sister's phone in hand. He faltered for a moment, skidding to an abrupt, almost comical halt, looking a little too surprised to see me—as though he was expecting me to have left by now—and I wasn't sure I was the only one that noticed.

I promptly averted my eyes, turning to the door with only one purpose in mind. I didn't even give the whining Lulu a departing rub behind the ears.

"Marisol has been calling," I heard him say to my sister as I pulled the large front door open with my free hand, unable to remember the last time I'd craved so much to be outside.

I rushed down the front stairs to the car my mom had sent to get me, more than desperate to get off this property. Even though I'd let go of a huge amount of tension yesterday, I couldn't help but feel like I'd only truly feel better when I was back in my comfort zone, forgetting Takoda Calebs existed. As best as I could anyway, with the memory of his touch tattooed on my skin.

Shit.

I was putting my suitcase in the trunk when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and too slow to realize that I was supposed to ignore it, I glanced towards the stairs, only to have my body seize up and my hand grow numb around the suitcase handle.

Takoda's eyes were expectant as he hurried down the stairs, but his steps seemed to slow when he noticed me standing behind the car. I didn't realize how long I stood there waiting for him to reach me, almost like a jerk reaction, but when my senses came back to me, he was already close enough for me to smell his cologne.

It was crazy that just twenty-four hours ago, I smelled like him. I'd washed that dress, but it refused to go out completely.

"Hey," he said as I turned around the other side of the car, refusing to stop. "Cleo."

"I'm leaving." It was a cold, snappy response.

But he didn't back off.

"Just a few seconds, Clee. Please."

On an impulse, I turned to face him, a muted part of me deciding to just listen to whatever he had to say. The sooner, the better, right? "What do you want?"

I gathered two theories in that moment. It was either he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, just moving with the direction of the breeze, or he was completely surprised by the way I responded, by the displeasure I could feel in my eyes. Only those things could explain why he suddenly looked flustered as he came to a halt a little too close for comfort. I didn't know which choice I preferred; they both pissed me off.

"Um," he started, his gaze intently studying mine. I'd instinctively narrowed my eyes, and for a beat I remembered that he'd once likened me to the hardest sciences to study.

I think I know you, but then I get slapped by reality and realize that I don't. Not really, at least.

I should've felt guilty. I should've.

"I . . ." He trailed off, then let out a breath. "Things don't have to be weird, right?"

I paused for a moment. "Of course not."

He nodded, then took a small step back, leaving me to wonder if that was really what he wanted to say. Maybe I scared him off, in which case my mission was accomplished, but the thought had my chest throbbing a little. I'd gone to him, after all. If anyone was to blame for this situation, it was me.

"Take care." He spoke so softly that it was almost impossible to accept that the words came from him. His lips barely moved around them.

I watched him take another step back, as though he was just realizing he wasn't supposed to be standing here. Then I gave him a sharp nod before pulling the car door open and getting in.

"You ready?" the driver asked me immediately I slammed the door shut, and I met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah." For some reason, I sounded feeble.

It wasn't until we were pulling away from Coco's property that I looked back. Takoda was gone, but I could almost see his outline there, staring after me. I got a weird sense of déjà vu then, so it wasn't a surprise when I realized that my hands were shaking.

I scrolled through my phone for the remainder of that day, remaining in bed in nothing but a dark blue tee that nearly swallowed me whole, and panties beneath it.

I lay curled up, feeling a little sick, sweating even though the air con was on full blast. If I did so much as close my eyes, I'd see Takoda's face in my mind's eye, looking at me like I provided life in my free time. I'd remember all the sensations and how they'd felt right at that moment. I'd remember the feel of his skin.

No matter how much I tried to, I couldn't forget about the fact that I'd hooked up with Takoda after swearing to myself that I wasn't going to let myself get close to any guy—much less him—that way anytime soon.

Sometime between my third break between Twitter and Instagram, the tears finally slipped out. I felt pathetic, miserable, hurt, guilty. All at the same time.

I swiped strands of hair out of my face and watched my darkening phone screen. The Instagram icon was staring at me, just waiting for me to tap on it and get caught up in the tides of social media once again. My sister and friends had posted so many photos that it was difficult to tell if I'd seen them all. Yesterday, around the time I was in bed with Takoda, Robin had shared a selfie of the both of us covered in flour and written a short caption: I have a feeling this season will be a great one. In the blurred background, a camera and artificial light were semi-visible.

It reminded me that the first episode of the new season was going out tomorrow and I wasn't ready for it. I didn't want to think about what people would say when they saw the kiss, when they saw me act like a fish out of water in the confessional.

Before I could think too much about it, I opened the app and went to Takoda's profile with blurry eyes. He wasn't a fan of social media, so it wasn't a surprise that he hadn't shared any posts since his Reel on Thursday. If it were left to him, he wouldn't even be on social media. After his dad died, it became a really toxic place for him, and after his first issue with a paparazzo, he'd been so close to quitting.

There'd been so many hateful comments, so many people questioning his "mental stability" and temper, questioning whether he was emotionally fit to be in public. Coco had told my mom and me about how much it was draining him, and how he was contemplating either deleting his account or hiring someone to take over from him.

It had been years and he was still here, though now he only followed ten accounts as opposed to the hundred million that followed him.

I went to his Reel and watched it twice, before checking some of the comments just to pass time and satisfy a strange curiosity. I couldn't even tell what I was looking for, just that I was desperate to find it.

He'd replied QUEEN, with a red sparkling heart, to Robin's comment on Thursday, and for a split second, I deliberated dropping something, too. Something that said, I'm sorry for putting you in such a weird spot, but also said, This doesn't mean I forgive you.

I had self-destructive behavior. I knew when something would turn out to be bad for me long before I invested in it, but did that stop me from going ahead with it? No. No, it didn't.

It was why I typed, I didn't get paid for my appearance, and sent it through before even giving myself a second to think about the possible consequences.

Then I put the phone beneath my pillow and didn't touch it until dinnertime, when I saw in my notifications that he liked my comment. He didn't respond to it like he did to Coco and Robin. He only liked it. I didn't know if to feel offended at how easily he'd dismissed me, or relieved that he at least acknowledged me.

Choosing to ignore it, I put on a pair of shorts and tucked the phone into one of the pockets before going to join my mom at the table.

On Tuesday, I woke up in a sweat, feeling like throwing up, and while I lay with my limbs spread out, trying to push down the queasiness crawling up my throat, my phone buzzed with a text from the bedside table. I reached for it without looking, almost knocking the digital clock down in the process.

It was six a.m., the day was just starting, so when I saw another contract from Marisol, I groaned, turning onto my side to face the far wall of my room. The phone buzzed again before I was settled in my new position, and I begrudgingly checked it.

GIRLFRIEND

Wanna have lunch with me today? I miss you and am pretty sure I didn't get the internship :'(

You couldn't wait for the sun to come up first? I sent, knowing she'd understand that my answer was yes. I needed a distraction.

Bartley's was a very posh restaurant in Beverly Hills, just a few minutes away from the condo Robin stayed in with her mom. The lighting was mellow, and the music playing over our heads was soft and easy to miss if there was too much noise in your head. Its minimalist layout looked Pinterest-worthy, sleek enough for you to slip and fall if you weren't careful. The ceiling even had this mirror-like effect to it, making the place look more occupied than it really was.

A photo was the first thing I took when I walked in, and it only took a few seconds for me to spot Robin at a private booth in the corner.

Contrary to what I was expecting, she was putting on one of her favorite vintage sets—a white short-sleeve and shorts to match—and her black baseball cap was facing backwards. Her face was devoid of makeup, matching mine.

"Hello, pretty lady," I said as I slipped into the seat across from her, placing my tote bag down beside me and wishing my voice carried the appropriate amount of excitement. I sounded sarcastic.

"Hello, prettier lady. You look like shit." Her accurate imitation pulled a laugh out of me for the first time in two days.

"Thank you. That means a lot. I put in extra effort today."

She gave me a cheeky smile, then picked up the menu. I noticed that she'd gotten her nails done but chose not to say anything about it. I loved the dynamic of our friendship. Everything, down to the insulting, was easy with Robin, and I had no doubt that she was my platonic soulmate. Robin had been a constant presence in my life for as long as I could remember, and for a split second, sitting there and staring at her beautiful face, I considered telling her.

I had sex with Takoda. That simple. There would be no judgement, no repercussions, and I would feel lighter than I did right now. But when she looked up at me and her eyes softened, I chickened out.

"Okay, jokes aside." She put the menu down, crossing her forearms on the shiny surface of the table and leaning towards me. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

She counted off her fingers as she spoke. "You were off-character all weekend, you got shit drunk on Friday night, and now you're sitting here looking like someone passed you through a human-sized hair straightener."

"Wow. Oddly specific," I commented.

"I'm serious, C. Talk to me."

It's Takoda. I had sex with him. And I don't just mean this past weekend. "I'm just . . . I don't know how to say it." I sighed. "Frustrated, I guess. And tense. I just don't know what I'm doing with my life."

Strangely, the words made me emotional, and tears filled my eyes as I said them.

"Oh my God, I'm crying." I tried to brush it off with a laugh, surprised at my own acting, but the tears came forward with full force, spilling down until I had to turn away from her. I faced the wall, placing a hand over my mouth and focusing on the leaves of the aloe plant.

Robin slid forward until her knees touched mine beneath the table, then she took my free hand and ran a thumb over the back of it. "That got weepy fast."

I tried for another laugh, and this time it came, but the tears followed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Cleo."

I cleaned a batch of tears off my face, happy that I forfeited makeup today. I would've been a mess otherwise.

"You act so tough all the time," she said softly, her hand still around mine, "and I can't help but feel like you don't give yourself enough time to react to your emotions, you know. You're always trying to be okay for everyone."

Her words were like knives coated with liquid guilt, and with each one that came out of her mouth, they drove in deeper and deeper, until I felt extremely icky. I was a terrible person. I was a liar and a bad friend.

"I think everyone would agree with me when I say your bad mood was very noticeable this past weekend. But you can talk to me, you know that. Anytime."

I nodded, signaling that I understood, thinking about where to start. There was an easy solution—I could tell her I kissed Takoda before the episode went up in a few hours—but all the words were stuck in my throat and couldn't find their way out. On the one hand, I didn't want her to feel betrayed, and on the other, I didn't want to go there. Letting myself relive all the passionate and embarrassing moments would not only hurt me now, but later, too. When I retired for the night and the world was quiet. When I was left alone with my thoughts.

I was tired of being hurt.

"I just need some time to put my thoughts together," I told Robin as I finally turned back to her, wiping tears off my face, and she nodded with a smile that killed me. My conscience was pricking me for lying, but I decided to just live in the now and forget about confessions.

I would tell her. I guess I just needed to come to terms with the fact that once I did, there was no going back.

Two hours before I got home, the first episode of season eight went live. I tried not to check my phone as I ate, talked to, and went emergency jewelry shopping with Robin, in an effort to help her forget about the interview she apparently blew. I drowned my curiosity in picture-taking and bracelets and rings that cost three digits.

But the moment I got into the car, I couldn't control myself.

Coco's text was the first thing I saw, and it contained just three words.

What the fuck?

My sister only swore when she was mad.

me: i want to write a romance between two ridiculously broken, painfully imperfect people.

me after almost 80k words: *squints at screen* hmm, they haven't suffered enough.

you'll get it in about eleven-ish chapters. *angel emoji*