I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as I stared out at the dark horizon. The city looked like it was dipped in smoke and sin—just the way I liked it. The streetlights were a blur of orange as I drove, my thoughts circling back to her.
Amelia.
She had been acting weird. Avoiding my calls, not responding to my messages, keeping her head down and her mouth shut. I wasn’t used to girls walking away after I’d had them. Especially not girls like her. Virgins who give everything in a single night—their bodies, their trust, their vulnerability—they usually clung afterward. They begged for attention, for a text back, for another night.
But not her.
She was running. Hiding.
And that made my blood boil.
What did she think? That she could give herself
