Page 5 of Desperate People

She doesn’t.

But she could’ve.

She offered herself to me—sweet and soft and real—and I told her no.

Because I’m a fucking coward.

Because I don’t trust myself not to fall so hard I forget who I am.

Now the whole damn internet is thirsting in the comments, dropping fire emojis and marriage proposals, while I sit in the shadows with my jaw clenched hard enough to crack enamel.

She’s not mine.

Never was.

But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to burn the whole damn world down every time someone calls her their fantasy.

Because she’s mine in all the ways that matter.

And one day?

One day I might stop pretending otherwise.

But hey—I turned her down.

Now I have to learn to live with the repercussions of my one fatal error.

What the hell did I expect, anyway?

Prologue Two-Lucy

My father once apologized to me for the strangest thing.

He said he was sorry I was born with his face.

I didn’t understand it at the time.

I was maybe nine, maybe ten—young enough to still sleep with a stuffed animal and old enough to know when adults were trying not to cry in front of you.

And I liked my face. I liked his face.

Sharp cheekbones, full mouth, long lashes, and eyes that didn’t miss a damn thing.

Everyone told me I was beautiful.

Teachers. Waiters. Strangers in grocery stores.

I never quite knew what to say.

Thank you, never felt right.

I did nothing to earn it.

I didn’t work for this face.

I didn’t study for it.

Didn’t bleed or sweat or claw my way into these genetics.

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