last place anyone would ever expect to see me, but that's what makes this perfect.

Tucked near the back of the café, steam lifts from the two paper cups of hot chocolate I bought. I shift in the cyan armchair and shred a napkin into a pile on the table. Elliot should have been here five minutes ago, and each minute the clock ticks magnifies my unease.

Under the eventide light of the café, everyone seems so content. A group of girls my age giggle as they wait in line, and snippets of their conversation reach my ears. Boys, school, he said, she said. They sound so dumb, but I'm jealous of the simplicity. Must be nice.

Come on, El, where are you?

The doorbell jingles, and Elliot walks in. I suck in a breath. His face is flushed from the cold, and when he finds me, he looks like he's seen a ghost. I focus on my napkin until his voice strikes me like lightning.

"Hey." He sits across from me, and I force myself to meet his stare. His ocean eyes are so familiar, yet so much has changed in them. There's no warmth or affection, only confusion, hurt, and anger. Like they've had oil spilled in them. His near-black hair sticks in sweaty pieces down his forehead, and there are deep bags on his skin. Seeing him like this is a punch straight to the gut.

Still, I squeak out a, "Hi."

He nods at the cup. "What's this?"

"Hot chocolate. That's kind of our thing, right?"

"I didn't realize we had a thing."

His hostility is justified, but that doesn't change how much it stings. "You're mad at me."

Elliot crosses his arms over his jacket, the same one he gave me when we first met. "Yeah, a little. I guess I should've known better. We don't know each other. Fuck, I don't even know what your last name is."

My stomach flips. "Do you regret it?"

"No. Not like I was wearing my virginity around as a badge or anything." Elliot goes silent before he says, "You know, I actually thought we had something."

"We did."

"Bullshit. Did you even like me at all?"

"Of course I did." Do. I still do.

"You say that like I should've known or something." We're silent for several moments. Elliot takes off his toque and throws it on the table. Rubbing his eyes with his palms, he says, "There's got to be something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I repel people. Everyone I've ever known has just... ricocheted off me."

Without thinking, I reach across the table and grab his hands, touching his familiar, warm skin. He jolts, but doesn't pull away, so I smooth my thumb along his. "You didn't repel me. That's not what happened."

He takes his hands away. "Then what happened?"

Tears prick my eyes. It's disgraceful—no, deplorable—but no matter how I put this, it's going to sound bad. "It was my ex."

Elliot half-scoffs, half-laughs. "Kinda figured that when I saw the new coat. Least you're warm now."

My chest twists and I look at my red sleeves. I hate this coat, but it's too cold after dark to go out without it. I've nearly frozen so many times this winter, Elliot has no idea. But it doesn't feel good to wear something a man who rapes me bought. I hate the pointy feathers that poke my skin through the fabric, and I hate the smell of cigarette smoke embedded into the fibers. I should have kept Chay's jacket on.

"So you ditched me for your ex," Elliot says. "Why couldn't you tell me that so I didn't spend the last forty-five days worrying I'd done something wrong? Or that you were hurt?"

"It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?"

The truth. Tell him the truth. But Colt's fingers are still wrapped around my neck, choking me, forcing my words to remain stuffed down my throat. I'm scared of what will happen if Elliot knows the truth—of what he'll think, or if he'll try to get involved in a situation he can't handle. "I—I, I don't know how to say it. I don't think you'd understand. You don't know what it's like, El."

He scans my face and squints. "What's it like, then?"

I grab the hot chocolate I still haven't tasted, and the warmth heats my bare hands through the paper cup. I'm shaking. Cold wind blows through the café as two girls leave.

"Wait." Elliot leans forward. "Is it, like... is it bad?"

I laugh. "It's not good."

"Are you in trouble?"

I don't want to cry in front of him; I know the person Elliot is looking at right now isn't the person I showed him. I wanted so bad for him to think I was strong and independent and free, but what a joke. All I am right now is a crying liar, so finally, I let myself be honest: "I'm in big trouble, El."

Silence. Elliot's eyes dart across the table before meeting mine. "Lucy, I can help you. You know my dad's a cop. We can help."

"No cops," I spit. If Elliot gets his dad involved, it could tangle him and his whole family right up in Slater's web.

"Lucy—"

"Elliot, please. You can't tell anyone."

"But—"

"I need you to promise. If you try to get involved, it'll only make things worse."

"What does that mean? Are you in trouble or not? If you have some psycho-abusive ex, we can help—"

"Elliot, please."

He flinches, before he sinks in the chair. "Okay. Fine, I promise. But if you won't take any help, why'd you even invite me here?"

"I needed you to know you didn't do anything wrong. You said you needed closure. Well... this is it."

"How am I supposed to walk away after that?" The crack in his voice chips at my heart. I think this guy cares about me more than anyone ever has. I force myself to smile.

"I'm a big girl, El. Don't worry about me."

We fall quiet. The café ambience drills into my head; people talking, ceramic clinking, the doorway jingling with every person who enters or leaves. It's warm but cold, and I don't know what to say. When he grins a little, I frown.

"You're smiling," I say.

"I was thinking about that time I tracked you down. I was so close to giving up when I finally found you. I mean, what're the chances, right? You stealing from me is one thing, but finding you again..."

"We could have passed each other a million times on the street and never noticed."

"I think I'd always notice a girl like you."

Breathless, I fidget with my fingers. To hell with all of this, it hurts too much, and I just want to be with him again. But if I go home with him, if we spend another night together, it will make going back to Colt more insufferable than it already is.

So I stand. "I should go."

Elliot does, too. "No, don't."

"I need to."

Head bent low, I storm out of the café to the brisk, busy sidewalk. Fluorescent lights illuminate the buildings, and the night sky casts a blue shadow over the snowy city. I bump shoulders with strangers as I weave through crowds and cover my eyes with my forearm, cold sleet hitting my face. I pray he won't follow me, but his voice sounds over the chatter and honking of cars.

"Lucy, wait!"

I keep walking.

"Wait!"

Gentle, as always, he grabs my arm. I don't resist as he pulls me back and crashes me into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, making me feel safe for the first time in days. Fresh air sweeps into my lungs, but the nostalgia is bitter and crippling. My knees buckle as I clutch into him.

"Please, don't go." He holds me up. "Stay with me."

"I can't."

"Let me help you."

"You can't."

Snowflakes rest on Elliot's inky eyelashes, and tears leave his irises glassy. I kiss him, and with a sharp breath, he kisses me back. He tastes like rum, and I wonder what he did tonight, who he was with, and why he also tastes like strawberry Chapstick. It doesn't matter. I wish I could freeze time and stay with him forever, but I can't. I push away from him, meet his eyes once, and walk away.

"Lucy, wait."

I look over my shoulder. "Yeah?"

"What's your last name?"

I smile. "It's Pembroke."