After cleaning up, Maxx had suggested we watch a movie. He had been careful in his selection, choosing The Doom Generation as an homage to our first date. I had misted up at his romantic sentiment.

Without bothering to watch the movie, I had dragged him back to his room and made quick work of removing our clothing. We made love until the early hours of the morning.

Everything had been so beautiful in its ease and simplicity. And I clutched at those moments greedily, scared that they would slip through my fingers.

Because the nature of our relationship wasn’t one of quiet happiness. And the weeks following our one amazing day together had shown me that we were destined for something much darker.

Because Maxx kept disappearing. He would slip away without my realizing it, and I would be left in a dark torment, worrying about what he was doing, what drugs he was taking, what ways he was destroying himself.

When we were together and he was touching me, I tried to ignore the anxious awareness that this was temporary, that when our breathing had slowed and the sweat had dried he’d leave me again. But I kept coming back for more.

Maxx overtook me.

He overwhelmed me.

I was drowning.

The moments of happiness when we were together felt bittersweet because they never lasted long enough.

I knew where he was going, I wasn’t stupid. But Maxx deftly evaded my questions when I asked them. But I never pushed too hard. I never grilled too much.

If I was being honest with myself, I simply didn’t want the confirmation that he was still selling, still using, still screwing up his life in the worst way imaginable. I was terrified that if my suspicions were confirmed beyond a doubt, I’d be forced to make a decision about our relationship. And I was worried that my choice would make me hate myself.

I was worried that I’d follow him wherever he wanted to lead me.

A strong part of me still wanted to go back to Compulsion. Even though I now knew the reality of what that place was and its role in Maxx’s world, I could still remember the thrill I felt when I was inside. The temptation was tantalizing.

So I stuck my head in the sand and tried to carry on as though this dark hole in his life didn’t exist.

Some days Maxx was the perfect boyfriend. He was romantic. He was doting. He loved me with all that he had. We laughed and talked together and lived in stolen moments of pure joy. He tried so hard to give me everything I needed.

But not the only thing that I would ever really want: for him to stop—the drugs, the club, all of it.

I knew he wouldn’t. So I never asked him to, knowing his answer would break my heart. There were times when he was lucid, his blue eyes clear. He didn’t shake or sweat or double over from the nausea of withdrawal. I could almost convince myself that the beast had been slain, that the worries in the back of my mind were unfounded.

But the worries were there nonetheless, rooted in a painful reality that was never far from the bubble we were trying to survive in.

Maxx wouldn’t talk to me about the club or anything that had to do with that part of his life. I hated it. I didn’t want Maxx to hide things from me, even the ugly parts that I wished weren’t real.

And while he kept so much of himself shrouded in secrecy, I knew that he loved me. And even though I had yet to verbally return the sentiment, Maxx never wasted a moment to tell me how he felt.

I love you sat on the tip of my tongue. And when I’d be ready to give it voice, Maxx would leave again, and I would be left with the black, twisted worries that were becoming all too familiar.

“Well, if it isn’t my roommate! I was beginning to think I’d have to fill out a missing-person report,” Renee teased as I came into the apartment after class on Thursday. I hadn’t seen much of Renee over the past few weeks. And I had missed her. While I lived my roller coaster, I wanted so much to confide in her the way I used to be able to. Even though we were crawling slowly back to a more comfortable form of our earlier friendship, I wasn’t sure I was ready to share my painful situation.

She looked happier. The bruises from Devon’s fists were long gone, and I could tell she had started to put on some much-needed weight. Her skin had a healthy glow, and she was starting to dress in some of her old clothes.

This alone was proof that Devon was no longer in the picture.

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes, dropping my book bag on the floor. I had just gone by Maxx’s apartment, hoping to see him before class. Of course he hadn’t been there. I had waited for twenty minutes, but he hadn’t shown up. I had left only when it started raining.

“When was the last time you spent the night here? I was beginning to think I lived by myself,” Renee said, closing the book she had been reading and putting it on the couch beside her.

When I didn’t say anything, she gave me a small smile.

“So who’s the guy, and why haven’t I met him yet?” she asked, following me into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. Popping the top, I took a long drink, thinking about how I was going to answer her.

I continued to live in a constant state of paranoia about being found out. I agonized over what would happen should the wrong person see Maxx and me together. I invented horrific scenarios in my head about the moment when my entire world would implode and my dreams would be dashed to the floor.

I put my soda can down on the counter and let out a sigh. Renee crossed her arms over her chest and regarded me steadily. Despite how much our friendship had changed over the past year, she still knew me better than most anyone.

“What’s wrong? Is it this guy?” she asked, sounding concerned. I sighed again. Renee frowned.

“Take it from me, no guy is worth making you feel like shit,” she stated firmly.

I leaned against the cabinets, bracing myself against the counter. “I think I love him,” I said quickly, shocking myself. The words had slipped out without my usual resistance restraining them. I covered my mouth with my hand as though I could shove the words back inside where they were safe. But now that they were out, there was no putting them back.

Renee blinked in surprise. “Huh? You love a guy I’ve never even met? Someone you never mention at all? Sorry, but I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed, cocking her eyebrow at me in disbelief.

“I can’t talk about him, Renee,” I begged, hoping she’d let it go. But there was no walking away from it now.

“Uh-uh, you and I are long overdue for a good, long girl talk. Grab the ice cream, I’ll get the chips, and we’re parking our asses on the couch,” Renee instructed, and I couldn’t help but smile. After keeping secrets for so long, I found myself looking forward to letting some of them go.

I pulled two pints of Ben & Jerry’s out of the freezer and met her in the living room.

“You need to start at the beginning and go from there. Why is this relationship so secret? It’s not like you,” Renee said as we settled on the couch.

I put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth, hoping the resulting brain freeze would knock some sense into my otherwise thick skull.

“He’s in the support group I help to facilitate,” I admitted, confessing my sins quickly. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid—better to do it all at once.

Renee’s eyes widened. “Well, that can’t be good,” she observed.

“Uh, no, it’s really bad actually,” I mumbled, scooping more ice cream into my mouth.

“Well, the secretiveness makes sense now,” Renee mused, putting the Ben & Jerry’s aside to start on a bag of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips.

“It started before I realized anything was going on. He sort of snuck up on me, and then it was like a full-blown meltdown. Does that make any sense?” I asked. Actually talking about my relationship with Maxx made me realize how reckless the entire situation was.