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I’m just not ready, Jackson. And I’m extra touchy because of the date and—”
    “You don’t have to explain. I get it. I shouldn’t have pushed it. You told me once before why you didn’t read it, and Whitney’s right...I should’ve left it alone.” He finally met my gaze, and the remorse in his eyes jarred me. Gone was his confidence, buried underneath some heavy mix of emotion that I couldn’t quite work out.
    “Let’s just forget it. I’m going to head down to the pool. I’ll see you there.” I turned to leave, caught somewhere in between saying things I’d wanted to say to him for the past year and leaving the room’s silence untouched. I wondered if the words would ever make their way out, but I didn’t doubt that Jackson already knew they existed.
    “Thank you,” he said, causing me to stall in my tracks at the door. “You forgive easily.”
    An image of a broken windshield and scattered chunks of glass on black pavement surfaced, the ambulance lights illuminating the darkness in an eerie red glow. Jen there in the car, slumped against the steering wheel, her cheek twitching while she extended shaky fingers to me, waiting for me to say goodbye. I love you, Jen. You’re not alone. I’m right here.
    A fabricated memory, all of it. Stored up in my mind like some bland, programmed afterthought for the sake of vague comfort. She’d been waiting for the goodbye, alright. But the goodbye never came.
    “I wish I knew what that felt like,” I said.

Chapter 3
    The party was in full swing by the time I changed and made it down to the pool area. Lucky for us, the pool was just as massive as the hotel itself, so our group had managed to take over half of one end without pissing off the other tourists. Still, Ruben and Jeff were drawing plenty of attention with their cannonball antics, and Jackson had his rock music turned up nice and loud while he and Enrique played water volleyball.
    “So, did Ana bitchslap Elena yet?” Whitney asked from her pool chair, leaning over to sneak a peek at my Kindle. She was cozy with a Jennifer L. Armentrout paperback while she soaked up the sun. Kayla, Michelle, and their friend Kelly were passed out on the chairs next to her.
    “Oh yeah, she’s already moved on to bigger and better things.” I winked and laughed with her, loving our Fifty Shades gush fests. We’d read the trilogy a few times already, but gossiping about it never grew old. It was the fangirl code for every book geek: read, chat, squeal. Re-read, chat, and squeal again, until it’s all over and the dreaded book funk sets in. Find the next best thing to fill the void, then repeat steps one through three as necessary.
    “How are Katy and Daemon making out?” I tapped her copy of Obsidian . “Did they blow up the laptop yet?”
    “Oh God, I wish.” She glanced out over the pool wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to blow up a laptop with that man.”
    “Alien, Whit. He’s an alien. Get it right.”
    “Who’s an alien?” Jackson asked from the edge of the pool. He was at our feet, staring up at us like a kid excluded from his favorite game at recess.
    “You are, Jackson.” Whitney shooed him with her foot. “Now go back to whatever planet you came from and stay there.”
    He pushed up on his arms and flung himself out of the pool, his hard muscles rippling with each movement. I swallowed and readjusted my sunglasses when he rose to full height in front of us. Bending over our legs, he shook his hair out like a wet dog.
    “Jackass!” Whitney screeched.
    “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He reached down to the pool’s edge and sent a small splash her way, grin widening when she set her book down to shoot up and splash him back.
    I laughed and covered my Kindle under the towel to keep it from getting wet. “Don’t encourage him, Whit.”
    “But he’s instigating!” She reached down to the surface to splash him again, but he sprang forward and lassoed her first, hauling her