Almost an hour later, I’m in Knox's car, staring at the imposing building of his parents’ house.
I’m supposed to walk in and end what’s left of my friendship with Finn.
But I don’t move.
Back at the hotel, I’d been so comfortable enjoying the back and forth between me and Knox. It had been easy to pretend the world didn’t exist when it was just us, tangled in bedsheets and breathless moans—Knox, it seems, only needs a few minutes to regain his erection after blowing a load, which had been exhaustingly pleasurable.
But at some point, he announced that his chartered jet was leaving for New York in two hours.
And just like that, reality sank in. No more denial. No more playful distractions. The time had come.
I haven’t been able to say much since the beginning of the drive here. Not sin
