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Liam:Bennett’s here.

Another followed shortly after.

She’s at the apartment with Keaton.

Then, only an hour ago, he sent,Joyce and Patrick’s. She’s staying there tonight.

It doesn’t make sense for me to be angry, but I am. Instead of going to San Francisco to be with me, Bennett came here to avoid me.

The last time she showed up without telling me, she’d shut me out for days. Left me questioning every move I’d made with her until I couldn’t stand thinking about her anymore. Then I saw the picture of a rainbow drink and the hand that didn’t belong to me. My first taste of jealousy was bitter and unwelcome. We weren’t serious—neither of us wanted to be. The lies we tell ourselves. When I looked up and saw her standing on the sidewalk outside the bar, I accepted the truth. I couldn’t deny it anymore. She'd already consumed my thoughts, controlled my emotions. She could have every part of me, so long as I could have her.

I drive to Keaton’s parents’ house because I have nowhere else I want to go. Like I did on her birthday, I park a few mailboxes down. Tonight seems to be an eerie echo of that night. Only now, we’re hours away frommybirthday, my grandfather’s heart attack killed him, and my face won’t be between her legs later. She won’t even know I’m here. The same way she doesn’t want me to know she is.

Hey, I text her.

I rest my head back on the seat, focusing on the dots dancing on the screen. They start, stop, start again. I imagine she’s torn between excuses and condolences. The question digging at me is why I’m only now receiving either. Keaton would have told her about Miles hours ago, and we both know she never got off the plane in San Francisco.

The dots disappear altogether after a few minutes.

Coward,I type, just to delete it without sending.

From where I am, all I can see is the house’s shadowed porch. The light turns on, and the red door opens as Bennett steps out. Just seeing her profile again is the equivalent of taking a taser to the chest. I straighten in my seat and consider flashing my lights or rolling down my window and shouting—something to gain her attention. The entire situation feels pathetic. I can’t defend sitting in the dark, so I watch her stand at the curb until a car stops in front of her. She climbs in, they drive off, and I’m irritated with her again. She should have noticed me.

Ionly call my highschool friend, Toby, when I want someone to drink with me to the point I won’t remember my name. He knows and doesn’t seem to care. We meet at a bar he chooses, and when he hears about my grandfather, he tips his beer bottle to “pour one out” for the old man.

A few rounds in, he starts ordering shots for the ladies beside us. Before he throws a drunken arm around my shoulders and slurs, “Which you want?” in my ear, I leave him and my drink at the bar. One has blonde hair, one blue eyes, and one looks like she wants to bolt. I came here so I wouldn’t follow Bennett, not to screw a knockoff version.

Even though I could probably drive, I decide not to deal with my truck. Why risk the temptation of going somewhere other than my house? I fold into the back of a Honda and rest my head on the cool glass as the driver pulls away. The ride helps me decompress, gain some distance between me and one long-ass day. Almost to the house, I remember I ignored a text from Liam earlier.

Where the fuck are you?

Not drunk enough in an Uber,I send.

For as long as I took to answer, he replies right away.

On your way home? ALONE?

We pull into my driveway before I can ask why the question elicited all caps. But once I get about halfway up the sidewalk, I know why.

Bennett.

She’s sitting in front of my door, her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. When her head stays down, I think she might be crying.

Fuck me.I can’t handle Bennett crying. Her lower lip quivers, and her eyes shine while they spill tears. Devastating and beautiful.

She still hasn’t moved when I lower down in front of her. I push the hair back that covers her face, her cheek on her knee. So fucking gorgeous. And asleep.

Luckily, I live in the kind of neighborhood where everyone’s in bed by eleven, so no one notices a random woman sleeping outside. I unlock the door before I gather her into my arms, and she snuggles into my shoulder, her eyes staying shut as I carry her inside.

Once her head hits the pillow, she rolls over. I slide off her shoes and unclasp the hook on her bracelet. She rarely leaves it on when she sleeps. TheSeeketched into the medallion catches my eye. I asked her about it while she was sprawled across me in her bed in SF. Why it was so important to her.

“You’ll laugh at me,”she said.

I nodded, my chin bumping the top of her head.“Probably, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

She pushed onto her forearms, resting them on my chest. Her eyes stayed down, her fingers twisting in the chain of my necklace.“Not long after my mom left, Keaton and I went to a carnival set up in the mall parking lot. While she stopped for cotton candy, I noticed a sign for a fortune teller.”

She cast her eyes up for my reaction, which I wouldn’t give her. Getting Bennett to open up on command was the equivalent of catching lightning in a bottle.

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