• • •

I don't know what to do with myself. I'm completely frozen in shock, staring at the screen as Gray scrolls through Davis's pictures. Annika's in several; Liam's in ever more. It doesn't look like they're roommates who don't get on. It looks like they're best friends.

In most of the photos of the two of them, their arms are around each other's shoulders, grinning for the camera, often with a drink in hand. They're at parties, football games, pep rallies. They're hanging out everywhere. I feel like such a goddamn idiot for never thinking to check Liam's Facebook page.

If I had, I'd have seen that the creep – Davis – is in half the photos Liam's posted in the past year; there are pictures of them together on what looks like a frat trip to the Keys. The evidence is sprawled all over the internet and I never thought to look. I can't believe how stupid I am. I spend half my life overthinking and I never thought to search his name.

This is all too much.

I can't deal with this morning, from the news about Maggie to whatever the hell all this means. It feels like life is playing some kind of sick joke on me, seeing how much crap I can balance on my shoulders before I fall apart.

"It's a sick joke," I say, slowly teasing out the only words in my relentless narrative that make sense.

I didn't think it was possible to feel any worse but in the moment, I really wish I was dead. For a fleeting moment, I'm sure that there's no coming back from this, that I've taken all I could manage and this is the straw that broke the camel's back. I just want to stop existing.

"What?" Gray asks through a mouthful of cake.

"He asked me out as a joke, didn't he?" I'm already frozen but my skin gets even colder. I feel lightheaded, as though I'm trying to swim against the tide at thirty-two thousand feet. "It was a dare. Davis probably dared him. Oh, God."

Gray abandons his cake when I cover my face to hide my ugly crying. He pulls my hands away and stares straight into my soul when he meets my eye. I know I'm a mess but I can't look away. He doesn't either. It feels like he's reading my thoughts.

Gray may be the most accomplished reader I know but there's no way even he could make sense of the crap that swirls in my head. It's like a sandstorm in there.

"Don't let this control you," he says, holding me by the shoulders. "You don't know the truth so it's a major waste of energy to get so upset without having the full picture. He wants to talk – maybe it's about this. If not, you can make it about this.

He taps the picture of Davis with his knuckle. "This isn't ok," he says, "but you shouldn't do anything until you know everything."

I nod because that always seems like the right thing to do when Gray gives me advice. I'm fairly certain he absorbs all the rational characters he reads, spitting out their advice when I lose sight of any rationality I ever had.

He gives me an encouraging smile and takes my phone, snapping a photo of the picture on the screen, a grinning selfie of Liam and Davis, and he shows me the message he just typed out.

what the hell??

When I nod he hits send.

"I don't want him to be an asshole," I say, rubbing my fingertip over my thumbnail until a red line appears. on my skin. I dig my fork into the cake that Gray has nearly polished off. "I really like him. I thought he really liked me too."

"I think he does," Gray says. I nod at the screen. He lifts a shoulder. "Annika said they're on and off. Maybe Davis really was being a jerk. Maybe Liam really did step in to help you."

"No." I want that to be right. I'd love it if that was right. But it can't be. "It was like they didn't even know each other. They acted like strangers, but obviously they're not. They live together. They're friends. And Davis wouldn't have been hitting on me. He's dating Annika. They've been together for two years." I scroll up to a fairly recent photo Davis posted, a selfie with Annika to celebrate their anniversary.

"Maybe he's a bad boyfriend."

"Or it's a set-up." I can feel a monumental breakdown brewing inside me. I just hope I can hold it together until I'm home tonight. That feels so far away when I'm working until ten. I wish I hadn't switched shifts with Georgie. I could be home by six, but I'm stuck with a closer.

My phone vibrates. I snatch it before Gray can vet the text for me. It's Liam. Before I see what he's said, my despair turns to rage, a white hot flame burning in my gut and licking my throat. My eyes are still wet, still swimming. I swipe away rain and tears to read the message.

that's what I wanted to talk about

"See," Gray says, calm as ever. "He wants to explain."

"There shouldn't be anything to explain." My fingers fly over the screen as I grit my teeth and try to reign in my damn emotions.

so let's talk. where are you now?

Gray gives me a warm smile and I feel strong for a second. The feeling doesn't last but it helped, if only for a moment. I clutch my phone, waiting for Liam's reply. I can't wait until two. I need to know what's going on or I'm going to lose my mind.

in my room. seeya at 2?

I'm not hanging around. No way. I may be a sodden mess; the storm may still be raging, but there's no way I'm just going to sit and wait.

"He's at the house," I say to Gray when I grab my things. "I'm going now. Do you want me to drop you off on campus?"

He shakes his head and stuffs the last of the cake into his mouth. "I'll stay in the car. I don't want to be far," he says. "Just in case."

I want to hold him and never let go. I thought Liam was my knight in shining armor the first time we met, but I know now I was wrong. It's been Gray all along: he's my best friend and savior. "Thank you," I say, giving him a quick hug. "Ok. Let's go."

• • •

I've never driven to Greek row before but my hands and feet seem to know the way and in just a few minutes, my car is idling outside the Theta Chi Theta frat house. I've made it this far but now I can't persuade myself to get out and confront him. My hands are stiff, my fingers petrified around the wheel, and my heart can't decide whether to speed up or stop all together.

"You need to know," Gray says. He nudges my knee and leans across me to open my door.

It's pouring. Lightning flashes in the distance and thunder rumbles overhead but I make a dash for it anyway when Gray squeezes my hand. I launch myself out of the car, splashing through the puddles in the dips of the driveway, and I hammer on the front door.

I must look crazy. I don't care. When no-one answers, I rattle the handle but the door's locked, so I bang my fist against the wet wood so hard that it feels like I've split my skin.

A full minute passes before the door opens. I vaguely recognize the spaced-out guy on the other side from the party. Either he recognizes me too or he just doesn't care because he lets me in and shuts the door, and he's unfazed when I race up the stairs.

The two flights to the third floor are enough to make me sweat but it's indistinguishable from the rain dripping down my face. My hair is plastered to my back, flat and wet down to my waist, and my lungs are aching from the combination of crying and running up fifty steps.

I get to Liam's room but I stop myself from bursting in when the voice at the back of my head says that if I'm just a joke then he probably has an actual girlfriend. I don't know what to believe right now. I don't trust my instincts anymore. What the hell am I doing?

I stand there for a full minute before I get the courage to knock on his door, and he sounds so normal when he tells me to come in. He doesn't know it's me. For all he knows, I'm his beautiful sorority girlfriend with straight As and five percent body fat, as white and blonde as him.

The look on his face is one of utter disbelief when he looks up from his desk to see me. He's not with a girl. He's studying. There's an economics textbook on his desk, his laptop open to a lecture about macroeconomics in the European Union. He pushes away from the desk, eyes wide.

"Storie, oh my God, you're soaking!"

"It's storming," I say. My words are flat. He can see the storm outside. I don't want small talk about the weather: he owes me answers.

"Take your sweater off. I have a dry one you can borrow," he says.

I shake my head. My usual shame creeps back, rearing its ugly head. I can't share his clothes. I've never been able to borrow friends' clothes.

"You need to. You must be freezing," he says, as though I've just dropped in for a chat. We both know exactly why I'm here, but he says nothing as he searches through his closet.

"No. It won't fit," I say. I hate those words so much. I hate that I have to say it. It feels like he just wants me to say it, to embarrass me. He knows it won't fit; he can see that just by looking at me. There's no way he's any bigger than a medium. Even in men's clothes, I'm a 2XL. He can see that.

"This will," he says, and I want to hit him or yell at him or something. I'm not going to try to squeeze into his sweater so he can laugh at me and take a picture when I get stuck. Every time I leave the house, I have to swallow the fear that someone will take a photo of me for some kind of meme.

"Stop it," I say, on the edge of tears, but he passes me an old, soft sweater. A big sweater. I hold it out to check. There's no size on the label but it looks big and dry and cozy, and I am beyond uncomfortable right now.

He stands with one hand in his pocket and the other at the back of his neck when I give in and peel off my sweater. My shirt comes with it, as if I needed more embarrassment. My face is covered as I try to tug it off, so he can't see my red cheeks, but he can see my jeans digging into my stomach; my fat bulging over the waistband; my shapeless sports bra.

But he does nothing, except take my wet clothes and separate my top from my sweater to lay them out on his radiator to dry. Now I'm even more confused. This is the Liam I'm falling for. Not the liar. But they're the same person. I don't know how to wrap my head around that.

"You need to explain yourself," I say once I've pulled on his sweater, my top half instantly warming up. It's soft and loose and it endears me to him even more.

"I know." He sits on the edge of his bed and invites me to do the same. "Will you hear me out?"

I nod. I want to hear him out. I want him to say something that will make me feel better. I need the verbal equivalent of this sweater. He pushes his hand through his hair and lets out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know where to start."

"How about you explain why your roommate is the guy you saved me from? How he's the guy you pretended you didn't know?" I'm on the edge of tears. I can't argue without crying, even if it's the tiniest thing. "Just tell me what the hell happened. Is this all a big joke?"

"No!" He grabs my hand but I yank it away. "Look, it was stupid. I know it was stupid. I was in the bookstore with Davis and I saw you and I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how."

"Just say hello!"

"I know. I should've." He sits further back on the bed and crosses his legs. "Davis said he could hit on you and I'd intervene. It sounded like a good idea."

"A good idea? Are you kidding me?" My eyes are stinging. My head hurts. When I think too much about the things Davis said, I feel as bad as I felt that night. "It was more than a stupid idea," I say, holding myself together as best I can. "He terrified me. I was honestly scared for my life, and now you're saying it was a set-up? You were in on it?"

He nods. He looks distraught. "Yes. But he took it too far, Storie. He said he would just use a cheesy pick-up line. I know he pushed it. I got really mad at him; I was furious. He wasn't supposed to scare you."

"But he did," I say. He looks down. "You have no idea what it's like to feel like there's a target on your back." My voice is shaking now, the precursor to tears. I clench my jaw and dig my naisl into my palms until the pain breaks through the cold numbness.

"I know. I'm sorry, Storie. I really am." He reaches for my hand again. I don't move this time. "It was really stupid. I just wanted to talk to you. I'm really sorry you found out like that. I wanted to tell you myself."

"That's convenient." I'm having a hard time distinguishing truth from the lines he's feeding me.

"It's true. I thought you'd never have to know and I could just forget about it. That was stupid too. Trust me, Storie. Please."

He sounds sincere. God, I hope he is, because I want to forgive him. I really do.

"Annika mentioned talking to you yesterday," he says. "I realized it was only a matter of time before you found out who Davis was. I didn't think it through." He lets out a heavy sigh. I want him to keep talking. His words are a comfort. I say nothing, waiting for him to fill the gap, and he does.

"I shouldn't have done it. That was a total dick move. I wasn't thinking. Davis really crossed the line but I did too." He lets go of my hand and laces his fingers at the back of his neck. "I shouldn't have tried to keep it from you. I was an idiot to think you'd never find out."

"You were. A huge idiot."

He nods and gives me half a smile. "I'm sorry. I really like you, Storie. I get that you're mad. I promise I wanted to tell you before you found out. That's why I texted you. I knew I had to tell you."

"I was really freaked out." I take a deep breath and pray that I can keep myself together for a little bit longer. I'm doing better than I expected, but only because he's doing most of the talking, and maybe because he's saying what I need him to say. "I thought you rescued me from a creep but you arranged it and that feels really terrible."

My voice hitches on the last word and I have to stop talking else I'll start sobbing. My head and my heart are both as confused as each other.

"It was just a dumb excuse to talk to you." Then he sits straight and backtracks. "I'm not trying to justify it. I fucked up."

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

"I really like you, Storie."

"I really like you too."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

"Me too."

Here come the tears. My right eye leaks first. I try to surreptitiously wipe it away but that only prompts more to fall and I don't resist when Liam pulls me into his arms. His hands are warm on my back, his cheek bristling against mine, and my throat aches from holding back my tears.

"Is this a deal breaker?" he asks, his breath warming my cold ear. I don't say anything for a moment. I don't move. I don't shake my head. It's not a deal breaker. I want him. But I also want him to think, just for a moment, that what he did was unforgiveable.

"Storie, please," he says as he pulls away to meet my eye. "I made a mistake. I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted to talk. I didn't know if it was going to go anywhere but now I want it to. Are we ok?"

The ball's in my court. His eyes are boring into me. Part of me wants to walk away, just to see what he would do, just to show him how he made me feel. But I don't. I can't. I don't want to move. He did something stupid. Davis scared me. I felt unsafe, just because Liam didn't have the balls to say hello.

But the more I think about it, the better I feel. Just in tiny increments, but better all the same. He did it for me. He wanted to talk to me. He wants to be with me. I want to be with him, stupid mistakes and all. It was a mistake. It's not like he meant for me to get upset, I think. He didn't want Davis to freak me out.

"We're ok," I say at last, once I've left him hanging for long enough. His face changes, a smile lighting his eyes, and he laces his hands with mine.

"Thank you," he says, and he leans forward to kiss me, one hand moving to the back of my neck. My hair won't be dry for hours and my face is still kind of damp but he doesn't seem to care.

"When you said you wanted to talk, I thought you were mad that I told Annika we're dating," I mumble, the words falling out when his kiss loosens my lips. He laughs, eyes creasing.

"What? Why would I be mad?"

"Because I thought it was a joke. When I saw Davis is your roommate." I hopelessly shrug, wishing I'd just kept my mouth shut.

"It's not a joke," he says. "You're not a joke, Storie." He smiles. It makes my stomach flip. "No funny business. I'm serious about you."

• • •

I want to stay in his warm room but Gray's waiting for me and I don't want to miss our next class too. I do leave my clothes in Liam's room, though, strangely proud of the fact that I'm wearing his sweater, and he gives me an umbrella at the door when I leave.

Gray doesn't look up when I get in the car. His eyes are fixed on his book, so absorbed that he jumps when I shut my door, snapping him out of his literary heaven. His eyebrows pull together when he notices the sweater that I wasn't wearing before, and I give him the rundown of the past twenty minutes.

"So you feel ok?" he asks when I wrap up the story. I nod, and I'm not just trying to pacify myself. I do feel better. I feel good. I can't be mad at Liam anymore, not now that he's explained himself. I said we're ok, so we're ok. If anything, his sincerity made me like him even more.

"I know I should probably be madder or I shouldn't have forgiven him so easily," I say, but Gray cuts me off with his hand.

"There's no should or shouldn't when it comes to how you feel," he says. "Liam screwed up and he explained himself and you forgave him." He smiles and puts his book away, slotting a bookmark between the pages. "As long as you're happy with what happened up there, then that's all that matters."

"I'm happy," I say. He grins.

"That's all that matters."

"Thanks, Gray. You're a very good wingman."

"It's my honor," he says. "Feel free to return the favor if you ever hear any little birdies tweeting."

"Well, actually," I start, and his eyebrows shoot up.

"What've you heard?"

"I happen to know that a certain tiny and adorable coworker of mine thinks you're cute," I say. His cheeks go pink.

"Navya?"

"Mmhmm."

His cheeks go pinker. "Really?"

"Yup. She's called you cute and adorable and she may have said that she has a crush on you."

He leans back in his seat, a smile playing on his lips. He tries to play it down, but his quietness is a bit of a tell. Gray is never quiet but at last the cat has got his tongue.

"Gray?"

"Mmm?"

"Navya and I are working the closing shift tonight," I say. "If you want, you could come over a little earlier than usual."

He glances at me, then away, and says, "I might do that."

He's quiet for the rest of the drive to our regular lot, a few minutes away round the other side of campus, scrolling on his phone. I stop abruptly when I misjudge the space and nearly ram another car. He almost drops his phone.

"Oh my God."

"Sorry," I say, backing up into a better space.

"No." Gray shakes his head and shows me his phone. "I meant this."