Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I did anyway, though. I’d told the guys I was paying a hot,
little visit to Mrs. Ashby, knowing they’d love that. None of us
liked her husband.
But I just wanted to see Winter.
After what I did to her last night.
“I hate that you don’t talk to me,” she said, still rooted in
the same spot but slowly turning in a circle, because she didn’t
know where I was. “Like really talk. But I guess it wouldn’t
have been like you to still be here this morning.”
No, it wouldn’t have been. After another half-hour in the
shower, we’d dried, and I dressed, following her down to her
room to lay with her for a while.
When she fell asleep, I stayed.
Still not sleeping.
Until about four a.m., then I snuck out.
And told myself that tonight I’d screw someone else.
And get Winter out of me.
“You are like a ghost,” she mused. “Or a vampire. You’re
only alive for me at night.”
She swallowed and inhaled a breath.
“It’s okay. I was warned, wasn’t I?” she said. “That you
would hurt me?”
Yes.
“My father thinks it would be better for me back in
Montreal,” she told me. “He says that ‘the community here
can’t accommodate my needs.’”
She repeated his words, feigning his deep, condescending
voice, but fire coursed up my neck, and I was nervous.
Back to Montreal.
Away.
I’d never see her. What if she stayed there after high
school?