“What is it that you want from me, Nash? Sex?” It’s a slap in the face. I just told her I cared about her, and this is the response I get? My shoulders stiffen, mouth opening and closing. Drawing in a slow breath, I exhale to the count of five, and swallow words that are better left unsaid. I realize that I hurt her—and on some level, I know that’s where this is coming from—but it doesn’t make it sting any less. She can blame the internship all she wants, but when it comes down to it, she doesn’t think we’re worth the risk. And I’m not talking academically. With a few more wordless steps, we
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