I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable thinking about the summer coming to a close. I had thought I would be thrilled to put this whole experience behind me, but . . . Ash changed all that. Now the thought of finishing the job makes me think about the fact that Ash and I will be going our separate ways, and that makes my stomach start to hurt.

Fuck. I’m going to miss him so much.

“Hey,” Ash says, his voice breaking through my reverie. I look up, and see him gazing at me, his eyes soft, concerned. “You okay?” he asks. I nod and rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself. I’m cold all of a sudden, and I have a hunch that it isn’t just because of the air conditioner.

“Yeah,” I say, even though I know it’s a lie. “C’mon. We should get to work.”

There is no use in putting off the inevitable. Time is going to march on whether we finish cleaning the house or not. Either way, my time with Ash is quickly coming to an end.

***

The days are passing faster and faster, it seems. Now that I have finally accepted that the thing I feel for Ash isn’t going away, it feels like every hour is only seconds long, and they slip through my fingers like smoke, evading me as I try to hold onto them, try to make them last.

Soon I will have nothing left but memories. Memories and heartache.

“Seriously,” Ash says as we walk down the street together in the fading light, Bruiser trotting along between us, straining at the leash whenever he sees something interesting. “Are you okay? You’ve been . . . quiet.”

No, I think. I’m not okay. Every day I spend with you, I fall for you a little more, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

But I can’t say that, I can’t let him know. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us, even if he did like me back. I’m leaving in less than two months, and the way things are going, it’ll feel like minutes by the times it’s over. So I nod instead. It’s all I can do.

“Yeah,” I say, drawing my arms farther into the sleeves of my hoodie, letting the sleeve edges cover my fingertips. I want to burrow inside and stay there, where nothing and no one can touch me. I want to draw him in with me.

I want a million things I know I can’t have.

I want him.

“I’m just tired,” I say, because he’s looking at me again, like he knows I’m lying. We’ve gone almost all the way around the block with Bruiser now, and a part of me—the stupid, selfish part that makes me want things I can’t have—can picture us doing this every night. I can see us taking the dog for a walk, strolling slowly, hand in hand, and then coming home and curling up on the porch swing together. Maybe what I told Ash isn’t a lie after all, because the very knowledge that I can’t have the things I want is exhausting, and my whole body is drained from it.

I want my bed. I want to curl up on that crappy mattress and close my eyes and pretend that my problems don’t exist. But I can’t. If I do, it’ll mean even less time spent with Ash, and I’m not willing to give that up. Not yet. Not until I have to.

It’ll be okay, I tell myself. You’ll go back to college. You’ll be with your friends. You’ll study and learn and laugh and maybe even fall for someone else. This isn’t the end of your world. You’re stronger than this.

I just have to keep telling myself that. Then maybe one day I’ll believe it.

***

We do another lap around the block, now, trying to tucker Bruiser out. But he’s still sniffing at every little thing we pass, tail whipping back and forth like he’s sweeping for gold or something. That dog’s got more energy than I think I’ve ever had in my entire life, but then again, he didn’t just spend his day hauling box after box after box of junk out of what amounted to a minefield. Instead, he slept through pretty much the whole thing.

I’d be perky, too, if our roles were reversed.

Bruiser catches a glimpse of a squirrel and tries to make a break for it. But Ash just laughs and hauls him back. “Woah there, buddy,” he says, reaching down and snagging Bruiser’s collar in his fingers. I can see the shift of the muscles in his forearm and I curse myself yet again. I have to stop noticing stuff like that. It’s not doing me any good. “You don’t get to have squirrels for dinner anymore. It’s kibble from now on for you.”

Bruiser turns around and pins us with the biggest, saddest pair of puppy-dog eyes ever, and I laugh and reach down to ruffle his ears. Except when I do, the back of my hand brushes against Ash’s, and I can’t help myself. I let it linger there for a second, basking in the feel of his skin against mine before I jerk away with a muttered “sorry.”

Ash just nods and gives me a little half-smile before letting go of Bruiser’s collar and tugging at his leash to get him moving again.

I stare off into the distance as we round the corner and end up back on my mother’s street. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I should just cut my losses before I get in any deeper. I should just pack up, get out, hire someone to finish the job even though I can’t afford it.

It’d be better than the sweet torture I’ve been putting myself through; falling for someone I can’t have.

“Hey,” Ash’s voice breaks through our silence, and my first instinct is to ignore it, to just keep walking. But then his hand comes up and snags my arm. His fingers are gentle, but his grip is firm, and I find myself tugged to a stop.

I turn to him. “What is it?” I ask, then I tilt my head up and see the look on his face. Something is wrong.

“Look,” he says, his voice low enough to be a whisper, and I turn my head to follow his gaze. There, off in the distance, I can just make out what he’s looking at. There’s a group of people, three or four of them at least.

And they’re standing at the end of my mother’s driveway.

***

Excuse me. Can I help you? I’m about to say it. The words are almost out of my mouth, but as soon as we’re within earshot, I hear what they’re saying and something inside me freezes up.

“Thank god that crazy woman is finally gone,” one woman says, lifting a foot and toeing at one of the garbage bags we’d stacked neatly by the curb. Her motion upsets the pile and the little pyramid we’ve built comes tumbling down, bags of trash rolling over one another, falling onto the street.

My spine has turned to steel.

The woman lets out a disgusted “hmph,” and turns to face her friends. “I mean,” she says, her voice loud enough that I’m surprised she hasn’t attracted more attention than she already has, “it was bad enough when she lived here, bringing down the neighborhood like she did. I just hope that whoever’s flipping this godforsaken place has the good sense to wear a hazmat suit.”

I pick up my pace, legs and lungs burning. What the hell is going on? Who the hell does this woman think she is?

“Excuse me.” The words are finally out of my mouth, but the pressure on my chest is still there. “Can I help you?” I snap as I come to a stop. Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock out a hip and glare at her.

“Oh,” she says, turning on me, a sick little smile touching at her lips. “I’m sorry.” Yeah, I think, I’m so sure you are. “Is this . . . yours?” She pokes at the garbage again, scattering it so that it falls even farther onto the street, nearly squashing the tiny white dog by her side, the one I hadn’t even noticed until now. She must not be overly concerned about it, since it isn’t on a leash and she nearly just crushed the thing with her move. Seriously, what the hell? This woman is old enough to be my mother, and she’s acting like a high school mean girl. What is wrong with this town?