Heartbreak.

She was still smiling, though there was something expectant in her expression as she held the two condoms between her fingers. I looked at them, then at her. The moment stretched. A few minutes ago, I’d been kissing her without a second thought. I’d been enjoying every second of it. The way she laughed against my mouth when I teased her. The way she’d pulled me closer. The warmth of her hand against my cheek. I wanted to kiss her again. That was the problem. I wanted to kiss Kat. I wanted to keep making her smile. I wanted to spend more evenings with her, to discover what this thing between us might become.

But when I imagined taking the next step, I couldn’t escape the thought of Trish. Not Rebecca. Not the girl I’d spent years convincing myself I wanted. Trish. We’d shared a moment at the concert too similar to one right now. Trish and I together in the backseat of Heather’s car having incredible out of control sex. In the fraction of second I thought back to the entire evening at The Weeknd with Trish. Her smile at the concert. The way she’d looked at me when we’d said goodbye. The way she’d sat on my front doorstep waiting for me to come home that afternoon. The incredible rush of adrenaline as we made out furiously on my bed as though we’d stolen something precious from the world and had only a little time to enjoy it.

I’d been trying to convince myself that I could put those feelings aside. That what happened with Trish was a moment, and what I had with Kat was something real. But sitting there in the back of Kat’s car, with her looking at me like she trusted me, I knew I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t pretend. “Kat…”

Her smile faded. “What?”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

She glanced down at the condoms in her hand, then back at me, not understanding. “Sorry for what?”

I wanted to find some way to say it that wouldn’t hurt her. Some clever, gentle explanation that would somehow make this easier. There wasn’t one. “I don’t think we should do this.”

For a second, she simply stared at me. Then her expression changed. “Are you actually being serious right now?”

“Yeah.”

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking. This is one big joke.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?” Her voice sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“Then what is it?”

I looked away, through the windscreen at the darkened street. I could see the faint reflection of our faces in the glass. Kat was sitting close enough that our knees were still touching, but suddenly the distance between us felt enormous.

“I’ve had a really good night,” I said. “I mean that. I’ve had an amazing night.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“No, you clearly don’t know, because you’re sitting here telling me you don’t want to do this after spending the last twenty minutes kissing me.”

“I do want to.”

She pulled back slightly. “Then what the hell are you saying?”

I closed my eyes for a moment. This was worse than I’d imagined. I’d known it would hurt her, but I hadn’t understood how impossible it would be to explain myself without making everything sound like a lie. “I like you, Kat.”

“Apparently not enough.”

“That’s not fair.”

She stared at me, eyes brightening. “Not fair? You ask me out. You spend the entire evening making me think this is going somewhere. You kiss me. You make me feel like you actually want me, and now you’re telling me you don’t?”

“I do want you.”

“Stop saying that!” Her voice cracked, and she looked away, furious with herself for letting it happen. “You can’t keep telling me you want me when you’re the one pushing me away.”

I had no answer. She put the condoms back into her purse with jerky movements and pulled the clasp shut.

“I thought about this,” she said quietly.

Something in her voice made my stomach twist. “Kat…”

“No. Just let me finish.” She took a breath, but it didn’t steady her. “I don’t do this with just anyone. You know that, right? I don’t go on a date and decide that because a guy bought me dinner, I owe him something. That’s not what this was.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to.” She looked at me then, her eyes shining. “I wanted to be with you. I was nervous about it, but I wanted it to be you.”

My chest tightened. “Is this your first time?” I asked, though I already knew the answer I was likely to get.

She nodded once. The knowledge landed like a blow. I’d thought about the possibility, but hearing her admit it made the whole thing suddenly so much more serious. She’d trusted me enough to bring condoms. She’d decided she was ready. And I was sitting beside her, taking that trust and turning it into humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, hating how inadequate the words sounded.

“Stop apologising.”

“I don’t know what else to say.”

“Try telling me the truth.”

I looked at her. She was angry, hurt, and frightened of what my answer might be. I could see her trying to hold herself together, refusing to let me see how much this mattered. I owed her the truth.

“There’s someone else.” The words seemed to drain the air from the car.

Kat’s face went still. “Someone else?”

“Not like that. I mean—”

“Oh, fantastic.” She gave another brittle laugh. “There’s someone else, but it’s not like that. That explains everything.”

“I haven’t been seeing anyone behind your back.”

“Then who is she?”

I hesitated.

Kat watched me, and I saw the moment she understood that I was hesitating because she knew the answer would matter. “Who?” she repeated.

“Trish.” I fully believe Kat had expected me to say Rebecca which made my actual answer worse.

Her expression shifted from anger to bewilderment. “Trish?”

“Yeah.”

“Heather’s Trish?”

I nodded.

For several seconds she said nothing. Then she looked down at her hands. “Your sister’s best friend.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She shook her head slowly. “You’ve been carrying on with your sister’s best friend who, might I add, just watched me pick you up for a date.”

“It’s not like I’ve been carrying on with her.”

Kat looked at me sharply. “Don’t.”

I stopped.

She took a long breath, pressing her lips together as she tried to make sense of it. “So when did this happened? At the concert?”

I nodded.

“The concert you stood me up for to attend. And that’s why you’ve been acting strange?”

“Partly.”

“And you still want her.”

I looked down. There was no point denying it now. “Yeah.”

Kat turned away, staring out of her window. Her eyes were wet, and she wiped at one of them angrily before a tear could fall. “God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“I thought tonight meant something.”

“It did.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because it did mean something.” My voice was unsteady now. “That’s what makes this so hard. I like you, Kat. I really do. I’ve had a better time tonight than I can remember having with anyone in ages. And I don’t want you to think any of it was fake, because it wasn’t.”

“Except you were thinking about her.”

“Not all night.”

“But enough.”

I couldn’t deny that.

She gave a small, miserable shake of her head. “I was so excited about tonight. I kept thinking about it at school. I was trying to work out what to wear, what we’d talk about, whether you’d kiss me. And you did. And it was wonderful.” Her voice broke slightly. “I thought you felt the same way.”

“I do feel something for you.”

“Just not enough.”

I rubbed both hands over my face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I wish I could make myself feel differently. I wish I could sit here and tell you that I’m ready to forget about Trish and see where this goes with us. You deserve that. You deserve someone who isn’t sitting here thinking about another girl.”

“Then be that someone.”

Even after all I had said and done Kat was still to give me a chance. “I can’t.”

The words came out too quickly, too firmly. Kat flinched. I wanted to take them back, but I couldn’t. It was the truth, and dressing it up wouldn’t make it kinder.

She stared at me, tears slipping down her cheeks now. “So that’s it? You’ve decided?”

“I think I have to.”

“You think?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty lousy job of that.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She turned towards me, her voice rising. “You get to sit there and make some noble decision about what’s best for me, and I’m the one who has to go home feeling like I wasn’t good enough.”

“That isn’t what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me being a coward and dishonest if I keep going when I know I can’t give you what you want.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “And what do I want, exactly?”

I swallowed. “Someone who chooses you.”

Her face crumpled for a second before she turned away again. “That’s a pretty speech.” She sounded completely broken.

“It’s not meant to be.”

“No. I suppose it’s meant to make you feel better.”

That hurt because there was enough truth in it. I had told myself that stopping was the right thing to do. That I was protecting her from something worse. But sitting there, watching her cry, I couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a selfish part of me that wanted her to understand, to forgive me, to tell me I was doing the right thing. I wanted her to make me feel less awful. And she didn’t owe me that. Not one little bit in the slightest.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I said. “And I’m not asking you to be okay with it. I just couldn’t go any further without telling you.”

Kat gave a small, bitter laugh. “How considerate.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying you know!”

I fell silent. She took a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. Then she checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror, trying to repair the damage. Watching her do that was almost unbearable. A few minutes ago she’d been happy, leaning into me, laughing. Now she was trying to make herself pesentable enough to drive home.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“And I hate that I understand.”

I looked at her.

She shook her head, angry tears still gathering in her eyes. “That’s the worst part. If you’d just decided you didn’t fancy me, or that you’d had just fucked me and wanted to move on, I could hate you properly. But you’re sitting here telling me you like me, telling me tonight was real, and telling me you’re stopping because you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“I do like you.”

“I know.” She gave me a wounded look. “That’s why I hate your decision.”

I felt something inside me twist.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you asked me out.”

“I did think about it.”

“Clearly not enough.”

She was right. I’d wanted to believe that I could have both things: the chance to explore what I had with Kat, and the feelings for Trish that I hadn’t been brave enough to confront. I’d told myself I could work it out as I went along. I wanted to believe I had more time and now Kat was the one paying for that.

“I should have told you before tonight,” I said.

“Yes, you should have.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at me, exhausted now rather than angry. “I think I’d like to take you home now.”

“Of course.”

I shifted forward, but before I could climb into the front seats, she caught my arm. “Wait.” I turned back. She looked as though she wanted to say something else. For a moment I thought she might ask me to reconsider, or tell me that she could wait, or give me some reason to change my mind. Instead, she said, “Was I wrong about tonight?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy being with me?”

“Yes. More than you know.”

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes searched mine. “And if Trish wasn’t in the picture?”

I didn’t hesitate. “There is nothing I’d want more. You have to believe me.”

I settled back into the passenger seat and fastened my seat belt. The car felt impossibly quiet as Kat started the engine. Neither of us spoke as we pulled away from the kerb. I watched the familiar streets pass outside, feeling every mile take us closer to the moment when I’d have to get out and watch her drive away. I’d done what I thought was right. That didn’t make it feel right.

When we reached my house, Kat pulled into the driveway and switched off the engine. She kept her hands on the steering wheel for a moment, staring straight ahead. “Thank you for dinner,” she said.

The formality of it hurt more than her anger had. “Kat…”

“I mean it. Dinner was lovely.” She turned to me. Her eyes were still red, but her expression had settled into something harder.

“I had a really good time tonight. I wanted it to be the beginning of something. And now I get to remember it as the night a guy took me on my first proper date, kissed me until I thought he wanted me, and then told me he was in love with someone else.”

“I’m not in love with—”

She raised a hand. “Don’t make it worse.”

I closed my mouth.

She looked away, then back at me. “I hope she’s worth it.”

I had no answer.

“Because I’m going to be really angry with you for a very long while.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t. But you will.”

I reached for the door handle, then paused.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re making a mistake,” she said.

“Maybe I am.”

She gave me a sad, disbelieving smile. “At least you finally sound unsure.”

I opened the door and climbed out. For a moment, I stood beside the car, wanting to say something that might make the evening end differently. But there was nothing. Kat watched me close the door. Then she put the car into gear and drove away without looking back. I stood in the driveway, watching her taillights disappear. I’d stopped before I did something I couldn’t take back. I’d told her the truth. I’d tried not to use her, or let her give me something that I couldn’t honestly return. All of that was true. So was the fact that I’d hurt her.

And as I finally turned towards the house, I knew that whatever happened with Trish, I was going to have to live with the fact that Kat had trusted me with something important, and I’d been the one to break her heart.