• • •

I hate how much I miss him. I hate that no matter how much he hurt me, how broken and worthless he made me feel, I miss him. I miss having someone who loved all of me, someone to kiss. Someone who could hold me and I wouldn't recoil at the thought of their hands on my body.

I didn't go to college on Monday. I couldn't face it. After a weekend of not leaving the house, with Mom and Gray and Tad doing their best to cheer me up and give me space, I did manage to drag myself behind the wheel to drive to South Lakes on Monday, but that was as far as I could go. The second I parked, I lost all confidence.

I was convinced everyone knew. Everyone would stare. People would whisper behind my back, sharing the story of my humiliation like a harmless piece of gossip. I know it was paranoia, but I couldn't bring myself to step foot on campus. Instead, I waited until Gray left before I cried in my car, and I spent a few hours in a quiet Starbucks a few miles from college before a long shift at the bookstore.

Tuesday was the same. On Wednesday, I resolved to go to class but the moment I got out of the car, I saw Davis across the quad. My resolve crumbled. Thursday and Friday, I didn't even leave home. Gray had a migraine – at least, that's what he said – and I didn't need convincing to stay home. It did take a bit of convincing to call in sick to work, though. I was scared Rich would say no and at first he did, until Navya backed me up and made him so uncomfortable with fake details of a heavy period that he just told me to stay home.

Now it's been ten days since I broke up with Liam. Ten days since I spoke to him. Ten days that he has spent texting and calling. My voicemail is filled with teary messages, my inbox full of pleading texts. On Tuesday, a bunch of flowers showed up on the doorstep. All my favourite colors. On Thursday, a cake turned up from the café in South Lakes. We ate it after dinner, when I stopped Gray from smashing a perfectly good dessert.

Now it's Monday again, after a slightly less awful weekend, and the start of the last week of college before the winter break. I can't believe this semester has flown by so fast, though I guess I was having fun for most of it. I was head over heels in love. Something tells me next semester is going to be a drag, but I'm ready for Christmas. Mom keeps saying the only cures for a broken heart are time and family.

Like I don't already know that. Our hearts have been broken quite enough. But she's right. After Dad died, there were so many times I was sure I couldn't go on, but I made it. If I can make it through that, then I can handle my heart getting trampled on by the guy I fell for. No big deal, right?

Except it sure as hell feels like a big deal when I'm trying to eat breakfast despite lacking an appetite, which disappeared half a second after Navya told me what she'd heard. I'm making my way through an unappetizing bowl of cereal when Mom pushes a plate of toast towards me.

She was devastated when she found out what happened. After sleeping through the whole ordeal on Friday night, she woke up on the Saturday to catastrophe. Tad and Gray explained what had happened when I couldn't bring myself to vocalize it again; I heard Tad tell her what he overhead Liam saying to me. She wept. I wept. Again. It was a really, really bad weekend.

"So, this is your last week?" Mom sits down next to Tad. The fact that he's here for breakfast, actually sitting down rather than grabbing an apple and a banana on his way to work, means it's too early. The burning in my gut tells me the same.

"Yup." I give up on the cereal with a few mouthfuls to go, and tear the toast into a few pieces. Mom watches me, like she doesn't think I'm going to actually eat it. I make a point of chewing and swallowing.

"I can't believe you've done a whole semester of college already, honey," she says with a smile. "I'm so proud of you."

Honestly? I'm proud of me too. It hasn't been easy.

"Thanks, Mom."

It's been hard to sleep recently. No surprise there. My mind won't shut off for long enough to relax and as soon as I do, I end up having great dreams. Dreams where none of this happened and I'm still with Liam, hanging out at his house with his family. Then I wake up and I remember, and it crushes me all over again,

"Only a few days to go." Mom smiles and nudges my foot. She refills her mug with black coffee, plumes of steam swirling up. I return her smile and pray that this week comes to an end fast.

• • •

We're halfway to college when Gray suddenly reaches out and turns down the playlist he chose, and he twists in his seat to face me.

"I was thinking," he says, pulling his ankle over his knee.

"Sounds good," I say when he pauses.

He rolls his eyes at me and I turn away when the traffic light we're waiting at goes green. "I was thinking," he says again, "about this summer.

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, I figure by then, Dad and Jen will probably be married and I imagine we'll have officially moved in with you guys. We'll be, like, brother and sister living together, so I won't be getting my own car."

"Well, no, considering you can't even drive."

He harrumphs and says, "I know, I know, exactly. I could learn in your car and go on the insurance, seeing as we're family, right?"

I glance at him. He's grinning, with his scheming look on his face. "Makes sense," I say as I merge onto the highway and pick up the speed a little.

"I'm gonna learn to drive before freshman year is over and – this is a promise – we're going to do that road trip we were talking about. Just you and me and the open road."

"Seriously?" I look him in the eye, and he certainly looks like he means it.

"Seriously. We could drive to Boston and join the I-90 and take it all the way to Oregon. Or we could make our own route and hit as many states as possible. We have, like, three months off."

"That sounds really cool," I say, hesitantly, "but that'll be expensive, Gray."

He shrugs and says, "We can use my beloved mother's pity money." He hasn't mentioned her in a while, not since things were going so great, and then so crap. "I moved everything from her to my savings account and it's plenty for a month of food, gas, rooms – the whole shebang. More, even."

"Wow." I take a deep breath and let the idea mull in my brain for a moment, waiting for some kind of anxiety to settle in, but none comes. There's no lingering droplet of paranoia or dread at the thought of taking to the road with Gray for four weeks. It's a strange feeling, for that not to stress me out. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. One hundred percent. Certainly. We have the time, we have the money, and I think it'd be pretty cool to have some best friend sibling bonding time."

I find myself grinning for the first time in over a week. "Ok. We'll do it." I point at him. "As long as you learn to drive. Don't get me all excited for this and then fail your test."

He grabs my finger and hooks it with his. "I pointy promise swear. I'm gonna be the best driver you've ever seen."

Something tells me Gray's going to be a terrible driver.

"It can be our wedding present to our parents," he says, sitting straight again. "A month of child-free bliss as newlyweds, if they're married by then." He winks. My nose wrinkles. "We'll explore the country; they'll explore each other."

"Gray! Jesus. Shush. That's not an image I need at nine o'clock on a Monday morning."

"My apologies." He turns the music up a bit. "Out of curiosity, when is the ideal time to think of your mom getting lucky?"

I hit him. He yelps and dissolves into a fit of giggles. He's such a kid, btu I love him for it. This week, he has proven to be pretty skilled in the art of distraction, and I couldn't be more grateful for it. If it wasn't for him, I think I would've spent a lot more of the past week in bed. There were times that I curled up alone and Mom soothed me and let me be, but it was Gray who dragged me out from under the covers and told me that moping wouldn't make anything better.

We fall into companionable silence. Gray's bopping his head and flipping through notes for a test we have tomorrow, the first of three this week, and I'm making a conscious effort not to tense up. Every couple of minutes, I find I have to forcibly unclench my muscles, my hands instinctively tightening around the steering wheel. I focus on a few breathing techniques that have occasionally helped, and the pressure in my head relieves a little when I manage to regulate my breaths.

The steady pattern is interrupted by the sudden jingle of my ringtone. I have my phone on vibrate so much that I don't even recognize it as my phone at first, until Gray holds it out to me and shows me an unfamiliar 513 number.

"Want me to answer?" he asks.

"No," I say. It's not Mom or Tad, who both have Five Oaks' 419 numbers, nor Kris, who has always been 216. It'll be Liam. I hate that I'm avoiding his calls now, that I've gone from texting him until I fall asleep to cancelling his calls and ignoring his messages. I hate that he did what he did. I hate that if someone hadn't found out and reported the frat, I never would have known. We'd still be together and I'd be ignorant.

I'm not sure whether that would be better or worse.

Gray cancels the call and switches my phone to silent. He gives me a sorry smile. "He'll get the message eventually," he says. "If he doesn't, I'll go and sort him out. He needs to quit harassing you."

"He feels bad," I say, and I hate the words as soon as they leave my lips. Gray recoils, his face twisting in disgust.

"So he should! But he shouldn't make you feel bad. He fucked up, majorly. Unacceptably. He needs to lie in the shitty bed he made, and he needs to let you go. He asks what he can do, you tell him to leave you alone, and yet he keeps bugging you. He hasn't learnt a damn thing."

Gray's jaw is tight, his dark eyes swimming with fury. He is fiercely protective, and I don't doubt that he would actually kick Liam's ass if he tried anything. He shakes his head and lets his notes drop into his backpack, and he leans back against his seat with a heavy sigh.

"I love you, Storie," he says at last.

"I love you too, Gray."

"You deserve better. Like, a million times better."

It's hard to hear when I was so happy. But I know it's right. "Thanks, Gray." I feel bad that everything's been about me for so long. Even before this. For as long as I've known Gray, our friendship has been all about me. Me moving to a new town; me dealing with my Dad's disappearance, his death; me falling in love and questioning myself every step of the way.

"How're you so patient?" I ask. He raises his eyebrows at me.

"What d'you mean?"

"With me. You're so patient with me. All the crap I put you through."

He laughs. "You don't put me through crap. What're you on about?" He stares at me for a moment. I don't know what to say. He does, though. "Life puts you through crap, and I'd rather go through it with you than watch from the sidelines."

A lump rises in my throat. I swallow hard and curse my emotions for being so easily accessible. They jump right to the surface without a moment's hesitation, but I manage to hold back the swelling tide behind my eyes.

"Thanks," I murmur after a moment, when my throat loosens enough to speak. "You're incomparable."

"Right back at you." He gives me an easy smile, the kind that helps relax me, the kind that tells me everything's going to be fine. The kind that I find I can return.

That gentle quiet returns, just for a minute. My phone buzzes and I dread hearing it buzz again, another incoming call, but it doesn't. Just a text.

"You have a voicemail," Gray says. "Want to listen?"

No, I don't. If I hear his voice, I'll break. If I hear him cry, I'll weep. If I hear him beg, I'll start to forget why I ended it. And I can't afford to forget that.

I shake my head. Gray nods.

"Want me to delete it?"

No. That's too permanent. "It might not even be him," I say instead. "Can you look up the number?"

It doesn't take long for him to say, "It's a Cincinnati area code. Private number, probably a cell phone."

It has to be Liam. He's the only person from Cincinnati I know.

Gray closes the tab and tucks my phone back into my bag. It doesn't buzz again the whole way to South Lakes.

• • •

We're too early for class, but Gray has a meeting with one of our professors. He hovers by my side, shifting his bag on his shoulder, watching me like I'm a child who might run away.

"I can rearrange," he says.

"I'm fine. You go to your meeting. I'll go to Starbucks."

"Sure?"

"Yes." I don't feel as confident as I sound but I can't hide away forever. It sickens me that I did nothing wrong, that I'm the victim, but I'm the one who feels so ashamed. Maybe it's just me: classic Storie, overthinking everything, worrying about the smallest things. Maybe any other girl would have walked back onto campus with her head held high.

Maybe I should try that.

When Gray leaves, clearly reluctant to abandon me in the quad, I make an effort to stand as tall as I can, my back straight and my chin up. It makes me feel even more visible, even bigger than the girl Liam deemed the biggest. It doesn't help that it's barely scraping thirty degrees and I'm wrapped up in a thick coat that makes me look thirty pounds heavier, a scarf that hugs my double chin.

Someone looks my way. But they're not looking at me. They're not even seeing me. Our eyes briefly meet and flit away. Civil inattention: I remember Gray telling me all about that, the human compulsion to acknowledge each other without seeing or caring. It suits me just fine.

Starbucks is a warm beacon that pulls me into its embrace, drawing me towards an empty armchair right in the corner. It's busy but not packed, and there's no-one so close that I feel uncomfortable. From here, I can see everyone who comes and goes, though I can't exactly hide if Liam comes in.

Gray will be gone for a good thirty minutes. I play a few games of Solitaire. I wish I'd packed a book in my bag. I do everything I can think of until my fingers drag me back to that voicemail. I don't think. I just click it, and my hand shakes a little as I hold my phone to my ear, and I listen.

"Hi, Storie, sweetie. It's Allie. Liam's mom," comes that sweet-as-honey voice that feels like a punch. Allie's voice has a quiver to it. "I ... I'm sorry, honey. I didn't plan what I was going to say to you when I called, but ... I heard what happened. Something seemed wrong and every time I talked to Liam, I couldn't shake this sense that something was going on." She sniffs and lets out a long breath. "He came home at the weekend and it all came out eventually and I was so horrified. I can't tell you how mad I am. I don't know how any child of mine could do what Liam has done to you. Oh, Storie."

When she cries, I blink hard and fast to stop myself from breaking down in the coffee shop, listening to a message from my ex-boyfriend's mom. It takes her a moment to compose herself. I bite my tongue, hard.

"I don't know what to do with him. I'm just so sorry, Storie. You were so perfect for him and you know I adore you, honey. I don't know what's going to happen and I don't expect to hear from you again, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and how disappointed I am in Liam, and how disgusted I am that he would ever take part in such an inhumane competition and hurt such a wonderful person. I love you, Storie, and I hope you're hanging in there. You're a strong young woman. I'm sorry my son is such a weak boy."

The voicemail ends. I can't help the fat, painful tear that squeezes out and rolls down my cheek and without warning, a loud sob escaped me. I clap a hand over my mouth and pull up my scarf, praying that the noise of the café is enough to drown out my gut-wrenching sorrow. With quaking fingers, I type out a text to Allie.

thank you allie. I really miss you. I never thought things would end like this. I miss liam too, more than I can say. im still processing what happened. it's been a rough couple of weeks. i thought we would go the distance but I can't be with someone who saw me the way he did at first. I wish I'd never found out. id rather be happy and ignorant. please send my love & hugs to daria.

My head is in my hands, my sleeves soaking up my tears as they fall. For all anyone knows, I'm just another freshman stressed about exams, and for as long as I can't see them, it feels like they can't see me either. I stay that way until I hear footsteps too close to be at another table, and I wipe my cheeks before I look up and I see him.

He's barely two feet away, staring at me like I'm a car wreck on the highway. Horror and fear in his eyes, he doesn't know whether to help or run. His hair is down, grazing his shoulders, and he's blocking the only way out. Not in a threatening way, like he doesn't want me to leave. He just looks like he doesn't know what to do. Like he's watching his ex-girlfriend break down because of him.

Neither of us say anything. He looks stricken. Then he drops onto the seat opposite me. He's pale. There are bags under his eyes, stubble dotting his jaw. He looks rough. It makes me feel a little better and a little worse. He's holding two takeout cups. He puts both on the coffee table, one closer to me. I realize he must've seen me a while ago if he had enough time to get me a drink. He probably watched me text his mom and cry about it.

"I miss you," he says. His voice is scratchy. He doesn't move to touch me. There's a low table between us, neither of us touching it. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to. I know you probably never want to talk to me again. I just ... I don't know what to do without you, Storie. You're all I can think about. I can't take back what I did but God, I wish I could."

He pushes the drink closer. "Hot chocolate," he says. He pops the lid off his own and takes a sip, cocoa foam giving him a moustache. He looks down at his drink then up at the ceiling. The light dances in glistening eyes. I can't watch him cry. I can't. But I do. He drops his gaze. "I miss you," he murmurs again. "I miss you so much."

I watch him for a moment. I see the anguish in his face. I know that feeling, because of him.

"I miss you too," I say after a minute's silence to mourn what we had.

He looks up when I speak, his eyes wide and hopeful. "You do?"

I nod, just barely tilting my head. It's no lie. I miss him like crazy. I miss him like you miss a lost baby tooth: there's a strange hole and it feels so wrong, but you get used to it. Another tooth grows.

"Can we start again?" he asks. I saw that question in his eyes before he asked it. I heard it before he opened his mouth. I still wasn't ready for it. He leans forward. I don't move. "Please, Storie. I love you. We had something special. I miss you; you miss me. Let's give it another go."

I don't know what to say to that. I open my mouth but I literally have no idea what to say. Nothing comes out. I suck in a breath, close my eyes, and exhale. "It doesn't work like that."

"Can we talk? I just ... I just want to talk." His eyes are wet but he's better at holding it back than me. I can see him flexing his jaw, gritting his teeth together.