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L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

“Greta”—she shook her head—“why are you saying this?
Dylan was really upset when you accused him of that before.”
Only then it wasn’t an accusation. She’d only gotten
as far as implying she hadn’t exactly raced to his bed with
cheerleader-level enthusiasm. And then she’d rejected him,
which probably didn’t happen a lot.
“I know it sounds stupid,” Greta said, “but it’s taken me
a while to understand that I wasn’t given a choice. He didn’t

ask me. I didn’t say yes.”
Rachel’s smile drooped, irritation tightening her mouth.
“Greta, I was there.”
“Fill me in then.” A sickening panic bloomed in her gut.
What if Rachel was right, that she’d said yes, been more than
willing, and was now playing the victim card?
“You were all over him that night,” Rachel said. ADVANCE READING COPY

“I remember some of that, yes. We kissed. I sat on his
lap.”
“Well, you can understand why Dylan thought you were
game.”
Greta sighed, trying to find words to make sense of it.
“Here’s the thing. I really liked him. I liked kissing him.
I liked sitting on his lap.” Then she stopped. Ever since she’d
dropped that confession on Ash, on herself, she had started to
unravel the I-made-a-mistake-and-regret-it story she’d fabri-

cated in her mind. “But if I’m honest, I didn’t plan on staying
over that night. And I didn’t plan on sleeping with him—at
least, not then.”
“So why did you?”

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