“Oh, it’s okay. Emma came to keep me company,” she says, turning the attention back to me. I can’t look at either of them. I don’t know why he’s pretending we don’t know each other, yet I’m oddly grateful for it.

“Oh…uhm…yeah,” I smile and chew at the inside of my mouth, my face heating up and my legs starting to feel weak. I put my hand flat on the tabletop, knowing it won’t do much to keep me from passing out, but maybe it will at least stabilize me long enough for the feeling to pass.

“She was afraid you were going to stand me up,” Lindsey blushes.

Andrew chuckles, and I look at my fingers, how they’re touching the tabletop, my knuckles turning white. His voice—it’s deeper.

“Oh, I always show up when I make a promise to someone. It’s kind of a thing with me,” he says. That statement—that was for me, and when I glance at him quickly, I feel the burn of it.

“Well, I’ll let you two have your night. I’ve got a couch waiting for me,” I say, pulling my purse close around my body and tucking the soiled ends of my sleeve into my hand.

“Thanks, Em,” Lindsey calls out as I leave. I wave to the side without turning, but I know they’re both watching me leave.

I focus my attention on my feet, my steps, and the stains on my shirt all the way back up to our apartment, and when I get through the door, I rush to the bathroom and throw up.

I slide down to the floor with my back against the wall and tug the towel from the shower bar into my lap, shaking it out to cover my body so I can curl up into the corner. The tears come from a place I never thought I’d see again. All these years, I’ve always thought of Andrew, but not since those first few months did I cry for him.

I’m not even sure why I’m crying, but every time I convince myself to stop, my breath catches and my lip quivers and I can’t hold it together.

He was gone.

Gone!

And now he’s here.

After an hour, I manage to calm myself enough to move into my room, to my bed, where I pull my covers up to my chin so I can throw my ruined shirt on the floor. When I squeeze my eyes shut, Andrew is all I see. Sometimes, it’s the young version, the innocent one. Other times, it’s tonight—the smile, the hard line, his eyes.

My entire body is throbbing with the beat of my heart, and my chest hurts so much I start to count along with every thump.

“Emmmmm? Are you in your room?” Lindsey calls from the doorway. All I can do is leave my arm over my face, blocking my view of anything, while I lie here in bed and pray she’s come home alone.

Please have hated him. Please, god. Please, please, please.

“There you are,” she says, opening my door completely, but thankfully leaving my light off. “Are you sick?”

“Migraine,” I answer. My head hurts like it does when I get them, but this…it’s way worse than a migraine. My migraines go away eventually. I fear this is just beginning.

“Oh, damn. You haven’t had one of those for a long time. I’m sorry, Em. You need me to get you anything?”

Lindsey is the kindest, sweetest girl I’ve ever known. She’s a true friend, and I’m so lucky that I found her. She’s been my rock through pre-med, through mountains of academic stress, through life’s growing pains—through my mother’s death. And all I can think of is how much I resent her for spending the night getting to know him.

“No, I’m okay. Just a little tired. It hit me as soon as I got home,” I say, my voice breaking with a cry. I clear my throat to mask it.

“Here, let me get you a washcloth at least,” she says, stepping out of my room and into our bathroom. I breathe heavy, trying to clear out everything else while she’s gone, and I manage to smile at her when she steps back into my room.

“Thanks,” I say as she presses the cool cloth to my forehead. It soothes me some, reminding me that I’m alive, that I’m here where I always wanted to be—reminding me of what’s important. I can feel this coldness, and that is a blessing.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” she says, and I can sense the girlfriend part of her begging for me. She’s happy, and she wants to share.

I slide the rag down to cover my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the force of my grip tighten as I speak.

“Did you have a nice time?” I ask.

Her sigh crushes me. I feel the bed shake as she sits next to me, taking over pressing the cloth on my head, as she shares. “Oh my god, Em. He’s like so…gah! I don’t even know. He just…he’s so fucking sexy!”