Finding Delaware (State of Us #1)

by Bree Wiley

Glancing over at my phone, I resist the urge to pull up his message thread. He’s been texting me all day like a drunken idiot from his bedroom, but I haven’t responded. Focusing on the panel for the comic I’m working on, I try to block out the memory of what he did to me in the bathroom yesterday, but it’s been at the forefront of my mind since I opened my eyes. Steam from the shower fills the bathroom, thick and heavy. The heat from the water feels good against my skin as I stand under the spray, letting it roll off my back. It soothes the slight ache in my arm that’s been present ever since Taylor held me under in the pool. I know I should be worried about it—fractures can be delicate. But the pain has been serving as a reminder this past week that what happened wasn’t in my head. Tipping back my chin, I run my fingers through my wet curls, closing my eyes as I remember what it felt like when Taylor touched me. Everything has been so confusing between us. We’ve barely spoken since I kicked him out of my room, and the few times I’ve caught him in the kitchen or passed him in the hallway, he’s been plastered. Dad ungrounded us for the Winter break, and Taylor spent Christmas at his dad’s, plus a day in the mountains with his friends. Not having him here was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of feelings that cyclone inside me whenever he’s near. Five months ago, his status in my life was clear. Public enemy number fucking one. Then he kissed me on the track, which threw me ...