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hostile if you weren’t such an asshole .”
    She squirmed beneath me and I cursed our arrangement, my erection once again brushing against parts of her that I had no business being near. At least not yet. I gritted my teeth together and pushed myself up, trying to get away from her hips as she used them to try to buck me off.
    “Listen to me for one fucking second,” I ground out, letting out a sigh of relief when she stopped moving. “I owe you an explanation.”
    Some of the anger melted out of her gaze and while that should have made me happy, the look that replaced it felt more like a punch to the gut than a victory. She sadly shook her head and I silently cursed at myself when I saw her eyes beginning to tear up again.
    “Maybe you do, but I don’t want to hear it. You’ve done enough,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
    Then the walls went back up and the hope of trying to fix things between us started to slip away. Because looking at her closed off expression now, I realized that I hurt her far worse than I originally thought.
    She hadn’t been lying when she told me she loved me. And I broke that.
    I had done enough. More than enough, actually.
    I pushed myself up and crawled as far away from her as the chain between us would allow, running a hand over my face as I contemplated this turn of events. My mouth opened and closed numerous time as I tried to think of something funny or smart to say. Something to make her feel better. Anything to break this terrible silence.
    But that look on her face...
    Part of me wanted to let her go, let her move on even if it meant I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it. But the larger part—the selfish part—still needed to try.
    At the very least, I owed her an apology. Whether she wanted it or not.
    I glanced back and saw that she hadn’t moved from where I left her lying on the floor, just staring blankly up at the ceiling. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and closed my eyes, trying to will away my doubts and figure out my next move.

Chapter Ten

Fiona
    W hen it became clear that Jonathan wasn’t going to let me go no matter what I said or did, the uncomfortable silence began. He crawled away from where I was sitting and the two of us stayed there for what felt like hours, each lost in our own thoughts.
    I had no idea what he was thinking, but all I was thinking about was how to get him to take off the damn chain and let me leave. He was the one who had created this rift between us. Not me. And he had no right to drag me back into a mess that he had caused when I wanted nothing more to do with it.
    I wondered what he expected to come from giving me an explanation. Did he think it would magically fix what he’d broken? What could he possibly say that would excuse his actions?
    Was he going to tell me that he didn’t mean to sleep with her? That he fell on top of her and his dick just happened to slide in? Even if there was some sort of logical explanation, why would it have taken him this long to tell me?
    It was as if I didn’t even know him anymore. If it truly had been a mistake, the Jonathan I knew wouldn’t have let me get away so easily. Even if I had managed to slip away, he would have come to my college and chased after me. He would have explained his mistake and told me that he loved me and wanted to be with me. Then we would’ve run into the sunset and lived happily ever after.
    But the Jonathan I thought I knew wouldn’t have slept with her in the first place. It would have been me .
    It should have been me.
    My head wanted nothing to do with him. But my heart, the stupid thing that got me into this mess in the first place, was begging me to give him a chance.
    After hours of silence, his stomach gave way first. I heard the rumbling and purposely ignored it. But when my bladder started to protest, I was left with little choice but to speak up or risk further embarrassment.
    “I need to pee.”
    He didn’t flinch, but the