Chapter Twenty Three

He was beside me when I woke up; I had tangled my legs with his. I couldn't deny how fast my heart raced when I noticed he was there; I hadn't realize when he came back from the woods.

He had been watching me, like he was trying to memorize every part of me. He kissed my forehead.

"I'm so sorry for last night; I shouldn't have..."

"Shhh, none of that. I was wrong too; I should have said something back instead of leaving the way I did."

"No. I don't want you to say you love me back; I don't want you to fake that."

I said, and he nodded in understanding. We both knew that he might never say those words. It was okay—that's what I say to myself—but no, it wasn't. I knew I was doomed. The moment I agreed to let him fake his love, I was falling deeper because he was so damn good at that, and it scared me. Sometimes I pick up changes in him, those tiny changes, and I hold onto them, letting myself forget that he was too good an actor. I was desperate. Desperate for his touch, to be loved, an