I can't believe I let West kiss me. I feel like I don't have the right to go home and face Jesse, who I just had sex with this morning. I'm becoming quite the little slut. Maybe my "job" with Hex is making me change. I don't know. All I know is that West and I are walking back to his place after the meeting so we can "talk" about it.

West lives in a college apartment designed for roommates, so each of the four bedrooms has its own lock. They're set up in a U shape around a communal kitchen area, which has a bathroom attached. It's a pretty nice place. Nicer than anywhere I've ever lived anyway.

I'm looking around when West says, "My bedroom's over here, come on."

He unlocks a door next to the kitchen table. I follow him inside with butterflies in my stomach. When he flips on the light switch, the first thing I notice is that the room is clean. Super clean. The bed is made up with military perfection, and the white carpeted floors bear the ghost tracks of vacuum wheels. It's a tiny room, with no space for anything other than a bed and a desk, but it does have a big window on the far wall.

"Nice," I say, impressed.

"Cleaning helps me stay clean. In more ways than one," West says, closing the door behind him.

"Were you always like that?" I ask curiously.

He laughs. "You shoulda seen my place when I was a junkie. It was disgusting."

"Yeah. I don't know why, but doing drugs makes you so gross," I say.

"Because after awhile nothing matters but using. Not even personal hygiene."

I sit down on the unwrinkled bed. "So."

"So?"

"So," I say. "Why did you kiss me?"

West blushes. "I'm sorry. I have what I'm sure is a very obvious and embarrassing crush on you, as I'm sure you've figured out by now, and I couldn't help it. But I shouldn't have just done it."

I'm so torn. Half of me is screaming at him to do it again, to take me right here on this perfect bed and not stop until morning. But Jesse.

"I really love my boyfriend," I say.

"The one who beats you?" West asks bitterly.

"That's not fair. There's a lot more to him than that. You don't know him like I do," I say defensively.

"Yeah I'm sure he's a great guy. Great guys are always going around beating on women. Oh wait..."

"Until and unless you know him like I do, you're not allowed to judge him."

"I'm plenty allowed." West rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything else about it. He sits down next to me on the bed. Then he says,

"I'm sorry about Adam. I really am. The way you talked about him when we got coffee that time made it obvious you really love him."

My heart squeezes inside my chest. "Thanks. He was like my brother."

"Tell me about him."

I'm not sure I can without breaking down again, but I try. "Adam really was a great guy. According to every definition, even yours. He was kind and thoughtful, when he was sober. He cared very much about what everyone thought or felt, and he wouldn't leave any of us behind. The loyalty was... something else. He was a sensitive, dreamer type... like the ones who look too closely at the world and then can't live with what they see... like Kurt Cobain, Robin Williams... that type of person. He was beautiful, but hurting all the time and no one, and nothing, could heal that hurt."

"I didn't know you could overdose on meth," West says softly.

"Me neither. Did you ever overdose on heroin?" I ask.

West nods. "Three times. I always got lucky. Always had someone to save me. Always-

He stops. I catch the hint of some emotion as he shuts down, and he stares straight ahead at a picture hanging on the wall. I follow his eyes to it. It's a photograph of three people: West, an older guy, and a girl. A very pretty girl with dark hair like his.

"Who's that?" I ask curiously.

"That's my dad and my twin sister, Adia," West says.

"You have a twin?"

He nods.

"Are you guys, like, creepy twins who can read each other's minds?" I ask playfully.

"No. She's dead," he says.

I feel so embarrassed. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry."

"She's dead, because I killed her."

My scalp tingles like I'm listening to one of Adam's horror stories. "What do you mean?"

"When you said twins are creepy, you're right. There is something weird about twins. Something about sharing a womb that makes you closer to them than anyone else, even if you haven't seen each other for months, it feels like no time has passed. There's all these stories of a twin on one side of the country who'll wake up with their chest hurting at the exact moment their twin on the other side of the country is having a heart attack. Weird stuff like that happens all the time when you have a twin."

West pauses for a moment, as if to remind himself what he was talking about.

"Adia always wanted to do everything I did. When I started using, she wanted to try it too. We used to sneak out and drink in high school and all that, ran around with the same circle of friends, and I think she just felt it was her right to use whatever I used. I told her no for the longest time, but when she threatened to get it herself I agreed to shoot her up. Once. Just once. It was a normal high for me, but for someone who had never used, it was too strong. I didn't give her that much, but it was still too much. I nodded out, woke up and she was dead. Negligent Homicide gets you four years. I only did three because of good behavior and overcrowding, but that's the reason my dad won't talk to me," West says.

I feel cold all over. "Shit. That's awful. I'm really sorry."

He shrugs. "I've hated myself for so long I don't even remember what it feels like to just be okay. You know?"

He turns to look at me.

"I know," I say.

Boy do I know.

I don't think either of us can stop ourselves. It's like a magnet pulling us closer, and I know my only choice, my only thought, and my only desire is to kiss him, and I sense that same need in him.

I don't let myself think about Jesse. If he finds out and goes crazy about this, I deserve every blow. I know I'm a horrible person, but my feelings for West are so strong that they eclipse my guilt and fear. I used to think nothing could eclipse my fear. That was before I had Cricket though. Now I know that it just takes loving something enough.

Blood is rushing through my body and I'm aching for him between my legs. An ache that makes me shiver.

"I don't want to hate myself anymore. I just want to love you," West says. "Like you deserve."

The words do me in, and I decide I'm going to let him. First I let him crawl one hand up under my shirt while his other hand dips into my jeans, and God it feels so good it hurts. I let him push me down and climb on top of me. I let him kiss my neck, and each kiss is like a stone thrown into a still pond, drawing out little vibrating ripples of sound from deep in my throat. We're making out hard and time seems to slow and speed up simultaneously. I'm ready for more and it feels like he is too.

And then, out of nowhere, he stops.

The trance is broken.

The light is bright.

The sound of the silence is suddenly so loud, like a window shattering.

"Why did you stop?" I ask, sitting up and tugging my shirt down.

West is sitting on the edge of the bed. He shakes his head. "I realized I can't love you like you deserve, because you don't think you deserve it. You think you deserve to be hit and demeaned and I can't do that to you, Ember. Until you realize what you're worth, I can't give you what you think you deserve. You've already chosen that. You chose him."

The bitter door slams in my face as I realize he's exactly right. I'm with Jesse because I deserve Jesse. I deserve this pain. I deserve every hit, every name, every accusation. I deserve it all because of what I did to Cricket. I've been crawling towards my baby when I should get up and run. That's when I know, for sure, that I don't love Jesse. What I love is that he makes me feel what I want to feel: hate. And I'm not ready to let go of hating myself. I'm just not ready to stop crawling.