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vulnerable and defenseless I had become.
    I remembered what I had told myself at the afterparty the night I kissed Derek, the night I totally gave myself over to being destroyed:
     
    I realized what I had thrown away:
    Happiness.
    Or at least a shot at it.
    That’s all it ever really is, isn’t it?
    Just a shot.
    No promises.
    Just maybe… MAYBE… a chance.
     
    What a crock of shit.
    The way I felt now, I would have given anything to go back in time and punch myself in the face and yell, “Don’t do it, you IDIOT!”
    But like the stupid little frog that I was, I had opened myself to the scorpion… and he had stabbed me through the heart in return.
    Maybe not literally, but it felt like he had taken a knife and plunged it all the way through my chest.
    I felt dead. And that was all that mattered.
    What was crazy was, even after I’d let myself fall for him, I had every warning in the fucking world!
    Shanna had told me.
    You know his past. Do you really think he’s going to change his spots just because of you?
    Guys like Derek Kane don’t change everything about themselves like that. They might say it, and they might mean it, and they might actually follow through for awhile… but… in the end… Derek’s Derek. He is who he is: a player.
    You’re thinking you’ll be the long-distance girlfriend of a guy who’s slept with way more people than I have, which is saying something. And you think he’ll be loyal, and faithful, and never ever step out with one of the supermodels on the Sports Illustrated bathing suit cover who’s throwing herself at him.
    A warning clear as day. A giant fucking red flag slapping me upside the face.
    Even if I was going to continue to be stupid, I should have heeded her advice:
    Have a good time. Get your rocks off. Not fall head over heels in love and expect a future full of roses and ponies.
    Enjoy the ride. Enjoy the hell out of it. And then… come back to reality, babe. ‘Cause wherever your head is right now, reality ain’t it.
    Nope.
    I hadn’t been anywhere close to reality.
    This was reality, this hell I was trapped in.
    And I had chosen it for myself, like a fool.
    She had been so right, and I wouldn’t fucking listen.
    Ryan had warned me that first night in LA:
    Just one word of advice: be careful. He’s my best friend, but… just be careful. Don’t give too much of yourself away. Not completely.
    But I did. Like an IDIOT.
    Riley had warned me, too:
    Stop letting the cock go to your brain, Blondie… quit making excuses for him just because you like how he fucks you. Here’s the truth: as long as Derek’s getting his way, he’s sweet as pie. Problem is, he needs you to say ‘You’re so awesome’ all the fuckin’ time. And he gets bored real quick. Just remember that. What’s your type – assholes?
    No. I – I’m in love with Derek.
    So… your type is assholes.
    She’d called it exactly right, and I’d been too besotted and lovestruck to know truth when I heard it.
    Even Killian had told me:
    From all the evidence I’ve ever seen, Derek’s not a one-woman chap. He’s a bit of a… free spirit, you might say. He’s just wired that way. It’s in his nature.
    He had called me a frog, which I didn’t want to hear, and warned me about the scorpion, and I hadn’t fucking listened. I had written it off as the addled advice of a pothead.
    Then it turned out that the pothead had ten thousand times more sense than me.
    But no matter how much it hurt, I kept thinking of Derek, and playing all the beautiful scenes from our relationship again and again:
    The first night I had met him, when we sat outside my dorm room and talked and laughed until three in the morning.
    When he told Shanna, I’m in love with your roommate.
    Singing ‘Under The Bridge’ for me.
    That impromptu volleyball game in the grocery store.
    Telling me how he had cried during Dumbo… and when I started crying, saying, I’m not going to make fun of you.
    The candlelit dinner he had