“Yes, seriously, Tristian. Give it to me!”

“Fine.” He reluctantly pulls out his wallet and hands me the key. “Good luck sobering up. I’m not giving you shit.”

“I’m quitting, anyway.”

“HA!”

“Tristian, LEAVE!”

He gives me one last dirty look before walking out of Peter’s room and slamming the door.

Peter

WHEN I GET TO THE APARTMENT, Hayley’s sitting on the ground outside with her back against the wall. She’s holding a can of cheap alcohol. I get out of the car and stare at her, perplexed.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t go into your room,” she responds in a monotone voice. She doesn’t look at me.

“Why?”

“Peter, just don’t. Okay?” She takes a sip of her drink.

“What are you, fifteen years old? Even at fifteen I wasn’t drinking that crap.”

“It’s cheap.”

I sit on the ground beside her. “Hayley, trust me. I understand not wanting to talk about things, but...can I know why I shouldn’t go into my room?”

“Tristian tore it apart.”

She looks stressed. I won’t stress her further. At least she knows it was wrong.

“Oh. Okay.”

“That’s it?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“You already look upset about it, so why would I make you more upset?”

She smiles just a little and looks away, like she won’t admit that I made her smile. How did we get to this point? We used to make each other smile all the time. It wasn’t a big deal or a problem. It was just natural.

“Thank you,” she finally responds.

I sigh. “Can I ask why he tore my room apart?”

“You can’t.”

“Got it. Well, good enough.” I stand back up. I don’t know if there’s dirt on my ass, so I brush it off just in case.

“I tried to clean it as best as I could.”

I pause. “You what?”

“I tried to clean up your room, but it doesn’t look as neat as the way you normally keep it.”