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Brandon isn’t on his side of the bed when I wake up. He isn’t anywhere in the penthouse, either. The restlessness I feel heightens more from last night’s conversation, knowing it ended in a complete misunderstanding.

He would misinterpret everything. That was a given, I admit it. I can’t tell him everything because I’m afraid of losing him.

He’d think I’m dirty if he knew about Drake and me. I’m not proud of what I did, especially if it concerns Drake.

Leaving only a small note on the breakfast tray, I know Brandon has already left for New York before I even look at the notice.

"Don’t stay out late"

I crumple the paper and toss it away. I’m not upset that Brandon left me a message on a note, but I’m mad at myself. I could’ve tried to talk to him more when I felt the bed move last night. I wasn’t able to sleep. I should have been more open.

I just couldn’t.

I’m such a coward.

And he even prepared breakfast for me. I was supposed to do this for him.

Crying, I eat the food on the tray. I