“Noah,” I gasped, when he suddenly jumped over a mini Mount Rushmore rock, part of the golf course, and right into the middle of my game with John. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He caught his breath and took a step backward, eyeing both John and I.

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

“I remember you from the other night.”

“Oh.” He glanced at John, who was glaring at him like he was a serial killer.

“Sorry I interrupted your game,” Noah said politely, a contrast to his kind of shaggy appearance. “But Rhett Morgan has been looking for you,” he told me. “You know, my roommate.”

I purposely let out a chuckle, kept my head high and my words strong. “Yeah, I’ve already heard—from you and about five others now. It’s a small town. Word gets around. Did it ever occur to people that maybe I don’t want to be found?” Almost buying into my own words and almost feeling like an actual bad-ass, I stepped onto the putting green, lining up my club with my golf ball. “It’s called a ‘one-night stand’ for a reason.”

John groaned, all part of this carefully crafted scene we were playing. “Seriously, do you have to say that shit in front of me?” he whined on cue. “No brother wants to hear about his little sister fucking the town manwhore.”

“Shut up, John.” Pretending to be unfazed, I swung my putter and actually happened to sink the ball into the hole in one easy shot. This was a small miracle in itself since my hands were trembling. Then I turned my attention back to Noah. “Tell Rhett I had an amazing night. He was sweet and I never meant to hurt him. But one night was all I wanted.” I shrugged, trying my best to pretend like I didn’t care at all when really, I’d never cared more in my life.

“Fine. I’ll tell him,” Noah grunted, done with me, and then he walked off.

The moment he was gone, back inside the small building on the edge of the golf course and out of sight, John wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug. Tears filled my eyes and my lungs burned. “Do you have to use the f-word like that?” I sniffled into his shirt. “It’s so mean. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “I do. It sends a clearer message. You did good, Sid, and hopefully this is over now.”

When I left Rhett the morning after our night together, I knew I was making the best decision for myself. All I ever wanted with him was one night of sex and fun, but somewhere along the way it had turned more complicated than that. Because I’d developed genuine, deep feelings for him. How could I not? He was sweet, handsome, funny, and we clicked in this special way that I’d never experienced with anyone else before.

Which was completely inconvenient…since I still loved Ben.

So I ran. I woke up that morning, and I ran as fast as I could. I was afraid of my feelings for Rhett, and I was afraid of my feelings for Ben. What if I would always be trapped in this limbo with Ben? How was that fair to Rhett? It wasn’t, and I was beyond stupid to think sex could ever be so easy. It didn’t help that Rhett had connections to Ben’s family.

But there was something else to consider with Rhett too. Sure, he may have said all the right things, made all the right moves, and treated me like a goddess. But how much of that was real and how much of that was an act? Because the Rhett everyone else knew was supposedly some manwhore, super-player. A guy who used women for one thing. Sex. We’d had sex. So how was I any different than all those other girls before me? Guys like him did not change overnight. If I stayed, how long would it have taken him to figure that out?

That very morning?

Would he have woken up, remembered that about himself, and kicked me out of his bed anyway? I didn’t want the answer to that question. I wanted to keep this special, untarnished image I had of him, forever intact in my mind. So I ran. And I kept telling myself that it had been the right decision.

John agreed. He more than agreed, he believed with such certainty that it was very convincing. I told him everything. Well, a very simplified version of everything. I never would have told him I had sex, but this was Rhett we were talking about, and John knew it instantly. And I couldn’t lie to John. So when I first heard that Rhett was looking for me, that he needed to speak with me, John came up with the solution. Tell everyone I’d used him for sex, which was more-or-less the truth, and that I wasn’t interested in seconds.

Still, there was this tiny voice in the back of my head that told me Rhett hadn’t played me. That he’d been nothing but genuine. I hurt knowing that I might have hurt him. But even in a perfect world, if there were no other factors to consider, we couldn’t be together. In a little over a month I’d be starting college at Luke University—over three hours away!

I’d done the right thing.

“This is the right thing,” John said, echoing my thoughts. He absentmindedly flipped through a Sports Illustrated magazine at the doctor’s office, his right leg shaking a million miles a minute. We were waiting in a small waiting room for the nurse to come back with my HIV test results. That’s right…I’d had my finger pricked and had to pee in a cup today. All because John was making me get an STD test. Awesome. The chlamydia and gonorrhea results wouldn’t be ready for seven more days. Even better. This was what every girl wanted to do with her older brother on a Monday morning.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I mumbled, sinking further into my chair, wishing the nurse would hurry up and bring us the results already. “You couldn’t have waited in the car?”

“Nope,” John said, chewing on his lip ring. “If that bastard gave you anything, I want to know so I can kill him. I’m serious. I will hunt his ass down and run him over with my truck.”

“Do you think we should ask the nurse if she’ll do a pregnancy test next?” I said sarcastically.

My brother’s face turned white. “Crap. I didn’t even think of that.”

“I’m kidding.”

“I’m not. We’ll stop at the drug store and pick up a test on the way home. Let’s hope you don’t have Satan’s spawn growing inside you. I am not ready to be an uncle, especially to his kid.”

“John,” I whined. “Why do you hate Rhett so much?”

His leg stopped shaking. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “Because he slept with Shelley. And he kissed you when you were sixteen. Barely sixteen. Who does that? Like the girls his own age aren’t enough?”

“I kissed him,” I clarified.

“Doesn’t matter. He reciprocated.”

When John was eighteen he moved out of our parent’s house and into their beach house in the Outer Banks. Before that day, he’d been this clean-cut guy. He wore khakis and polo shirts. He was on a rowing team in high school. He got straight A’s and never did anything out of line. He was the product of private schools, raised by nannies and money. But then, as soon as that eighteenth birthday of his came along, he left. It had been a shock to my whole family. When he came back to visit the following Christmas, everything about him had changed. He had tattoos and piercings, wore skinny jeans and t-shirts of bands I didn’t know. And he was happier somehow—happier now that he’d become who he was supposed to be and not who everyone else wanted him to be. He also had a new girlfriend—Shelley.

They dated for almost five years. And then, just before I came to live with him, they broke up. I always thought their breakup had been my fault. I guess it had everything to do with Rhett.

“Did he sleep with Shelly while you were still with her?” I asked, looking for clarification.

“Yes. She fucked him. Then she ended it with me, telling me she wanted him instead. Then, when he didn’t actually want her for more than that one night, she came crawling back to me. I didn’t take her back, obviously, but I felt like shit for it. The details don’t matter. I don’t like the guy and I don’t like the way he uses women. And now I really hate him since he did the same thing with you.”