The sounds of the conversations and laughter from the social lounges drifted in. I listened to them chat about boys, what teacher was being a hard ass, who was hooking up with who, who was voting for the conservatives in the election and did you hear that Andrew was going to take a year off because his grades were so bad? I tried to tune them out but the banality of their conversation was soothing to me, like waterfalls in the background. They were crushing the rocks beneath them but it was artful the way the words fell, defending at the same time they were attacking.

I missed Flint. He did his homework on time and washed his dishes and didn’t drink too much. He was stable and good and I wanted him to be my friend. We had to be able to forget what had happened and try again. I combed my hair and put on a fresh pair of clothes, trying my best to look better than a cave troll. I cleared my throat and marched into the hall, enduring the puke green of the halls without cursing the designer for their poor choice in colors. I made it to his door without meeting anyone else and knocked.

“Come in,” he said without asking whom it was.

I opened the door and was slammed with the smell of weed. I sidestepped through the door and shut it quickly so the smell wouldn’t enter the hallway.

“What are you doing?” I tiptoed towards him, as if someone might hear my footsteps and realize what they smelled from underneath the dorm door.

He offered me a joint. As I watched, he lifted it to his lips. I took a deep breath to ready myself and realized that I would get high from being in this room, regardless of whether or not I smoked from his joint. I took it and sat beside him, close enough that he couldn’t ignore me and far enough away that he wouldn’t think I was pushing this too hard.

“I’m really sorry about before. About not paying attention to us. It was wrong.” I breathed out; thankful that I had said the sentences I practiced, thankful that I hadn’t stammered.

He nodded and took the joint back. “What do you think?”

I raised one eyebrow.

“Like what’s the point? You think anything is going to change?” he said, lying back on his pillows.

“I think you’re high. You won’t care in the morning,” I said.

He rolled over on his side, coming closer than I was prepared for. He looked at me like a child trying to explain a complicated concept to his stuffed animal. “You block people out. You keep them at arms length but you still want them to be there when you want them.”

This was not what I had expected, coming in here. I wanted to apologize, be forgiven and have everything go back the way it was. But Flint, always a rebel, had decided it was going to be much bigger than both of us. And the weed was not helping.

“What does your heart see, Andi?”

“A friend smoking too much pot,” I said.

He lifted his hand and closed my eyelids over my eyes. “Try again.”

I sighed and tried not to focus on his strange behavior. “I’m really sorry. I made a mistake. Can you forgive me?”

I opened one eye to see how he was reacting. His eyes were closed as well and he was just listening, as if no one could reach us to disturb us, like we could go on forever. I relaxed into that feeling, perhaps allowing the smell of pot to calm me, perhaps feeling Flint’s hand on my face like a blessing.

“I miss you.” I put my hand on Flint’s face without opening my eyes, like he had done to mine.

His face was damp with tears but his eyes remained closed. Why would he want to see what his eyes showed him, if his heart knew so much better? I guided his head towards my shoulder, so he could rest his mind. He allowed me to move him closer, but changed direction, ending his course just a breath away from my face.

“What do you see now?” he said.