Dr. Stephenson didn’t rush her.
She didn’t pry.
She just asked questions gently—“How have you been coping lately?” and “What brings you in today?”
At first, Ali didn’t say much. A shrug. A few mumbled phrases.
But the silence in the room didn’t feel like judgment. It felt like an invitation.
And slowly, something cracked open.
She talked about the fighting with Daisy. About how she felt like she was constantly in the way. How she tiptoed around her own dorm room, afraid of doing anything wrong. How her world had become so small she couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel okay.
She admitted she’d hurt herself.
And then, barely a whisper: “I didn’t want to die. I just… didn’t know how to make everything stop hurting.”
Dr. Stephenson nodded, not startled, not alarmed— just grounded.
“I hear you, Ali. I’m really glad you came in today.”
They talked for almost an hour. By the end of it, her chest didn’t feel quite so tight. She wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t buried anymore either. There was a flicker of something else.
Hope, maybe.
When she came back out, Dylan stood up so fast he nearly knocked over the fake plant beside him.
She didn’t even get a word out before he wrapped her up in his arms.
And just like that, the crushing shame loosened a little.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered again, kissing the top of her head. “You did the hard part. We’ll figure out the rest together.”
Ali clung to him, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe that maybe— just maybe— she didn’t have to do this alone.
After finals ended the next week, she went home to Honeyshore for Winter Break. She drove herself. Dylan helped her load up her Malibu and kissed her with a fierceness she would never get used to. They would be in their hometown together, yet a world apart because of Daisy.
Ali spent the drive back home blaring Taylor Swift, singing about boys, mean girls, and feeling 22.
And when she crossed over into Bellamy County, she felt a sigh leave her body as the stress from MBU faded away.
Ali talked to Dylan every single night before falling asleep. And they texted all day.
The week of Christmas, she had a sleepover at her cousin’s house. Ashley was the youngest of 4 kids with 3 older brothers. Since Ali was an only child, and being they were only 6 months apart, they were more like sisters growing up.
The fireplace crackled low in Ashley’s room, casting flickers of gold over the floral duvet they were sprawled across. A mostly empty bottle of Moscato leaned sideways on the nightstand, and half a bowl of kettle corn sat between them, the sweet-salty kernels now slightly stale.
Ali finally felt normal again.
Ashley lay on her stomach, twisting a ring around her finger, her dark blonde hair pulled into a lazy bun. “Okay, I’ve been waiting all night,” she said, eyes dancing with curiosity. “You’vegot thatI’m holding a secret that might explodeout of me face. Spill. Everything.”
Ali let out a breath, biting back a grin.
Then she told Ashley everything.
About Dylan.
About the looks that made her stomach flip. The coffee outside her dorm. The kisses at Cup & Chaucer. The night he kissed her on the field in front of thousands. The night she gave him her virginity. Her voice wavered a little on that part, but Ashley just smiled softly and reached over to squeeze her hand. Then she dished. Everything. Their first night together, the rushed sex in the shower before class some days, the slow love-making on Sunday afternoons, all of it. She finally had someone she could girl-talk with.
