it?
Feeling jittery and unable to stop smiling, I approached his door. I bit my bottom lip and knocked.
The door opened and a blond woman wearing nothing but a plaid button-down shirt—Corban’s shirt—and underwear answered.
My excited smile melted. It was Paisley Hayes.
His sister’s best friend and his high school crush. Answering his door. In nothing but his shirt and her underwear.
The pit of my stomach felt like it had dropped through the floor. I checked the apartment number. Had I gotten the wrong one?
“Can I help you?” Paisley asked.
“Sorry, I must have the wrong apartment.”
“Are you looking for Corban?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in the right place, but…” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s in the shower.”
The faint sound of running water carried through the apartment.
Why was Paisley in his apartment while he was showering? Given the way she was dressed, I had a good idea. But he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t.
Would he?
“Do you want me to let him know you stopped by?”
I didn’t miss the false sweetness in her voice, nor the way she eyed me like she’d just scored a victory.
“Sure.”
Paisley smiled. “Hailey, right? I’ll tell him.”
“No, it’s Hazel.”
But she’d already shut the door in my face.
I backed away, so stunned I could barely think. Had Corban slept with her? Had he been sleeping with her this whole time?
And did I have any right to be mad if he had been?
I felt like I might cry, or possibly vomit. My hands shook and I found myself on the ground floor, walking outside with no idea how I’d gotten there. All I could see was Paisley standing in his doorway, dressed in his shirt, her legs bare.
If this had happened to one of my friends, I knew my mind would have been able to walk through the evidence in a calm and logical manner. I’d have come up with a number of alternative explanations and encouraged her to reserve judgment until she was sure of the truth.
But the sharp sting of betrayal overrode my ability to think logically. All I knew was that I’d been wrong about him. I’d been wrong to think he might have shared my feelings.
Maybe he liked me as a friend. And he certainly seemed to have enjoyed sleeping with me. But we’d never gone beyond that. Never talked about the possibility of exploring what we had together. We weren’t dating. We weren’t exclusive.
So maybe Paisley Hayes answering the door in her underwear had just saved me from making a terrible mistake. He’d never have to know I had entertained the notion that I was in love with him, or that he might be in love with me.
I went home and did the only thing I could. I group texted my friends. I knew they’d be here for me. They always were.
But half an hour later, as we sat on my floor with martinis in hand, I didn’t cry. I didn’t let the tight ball of emotions loose. I couldn’t.
I couldn’t even find it in me to feel vindicated. This proved that Corban’s theory had a flaw. We’d done his questionnaire together, and although it had sparked a change in our relationship, it hadn’t made us fall in love.
Or at least, it hadn’t made him fall in love with me.
And for the first time since that afternoon when we’d gone through his questionnaire, I allowed myself to admit another truth. For perhaps the first time in my life, I’d wanted to be wrong. I’d wanted his accelerated intimacy theory to be right.
34
Corban
“Just remember you will find that one special love that you know is right but for some reason just doesn’t last.” ~ Marie Curie
Steam clouded the bathroom mirror. I raked the towel back and forth over my wet hair a few times, then wrapped it around my waist. My jaw was rough with stubble, thicker than I usually kept it, but I decided to leave it. I didn’t care if I looked scruffy.
I’d spent the morning at the climbing gym, trying to distract myself from Hazel. Again. Apparently that was just my life now. I spent a lot of time up on that wall trying to keep her out of my head.
It never worked very well.
Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at her yesterday when she’d hit me with all that research. But what did she think, that I didn’t know something was wrong with me? That she could compile a meta-analysis and the answers would be somewhere in all the data?
The answers weren’t there. I’d already looked.
My