The door opened and Abby entered. Horror immediately marked her face.
“Mygod!” I barely corralled the urge to throw my tear-drenched pillow at her. “You’re everywhere.”
“I’ll go,” she said quickly, and closed the door.
More tears leaked out of me, this time from guilt. What was wrong with me? Why did I always react so badly, so sharply to things? Why couldn’t I get a grasp on my emotions and think through how I wanted to respond to people, instead of exploding like a boiling kettle or staying utterly silent?
The door cracked back open, and Abby peeked in, her concerned brown eyes looking even bigger than usual since she’d pulled her hair back in a messy bun. “Look,” she said hesitantly. “I know we don’t know each other really well, but if you want to talk... Talking usually helps.”
“How can it help?” I asked starkly, but I managed to pull myself upright, curling my knees into my chest. “I like someone who doesn’t want to date me. There’s literally nothing to be done about it.”
“Ah.” She slipped inside and quietly closed the door. “Tyler?”
She’d just caught me making out with Isaac. “Why are you asking about Tyler?”
She spread her hands. “Because it seems like... Tyler.”
I dropped my head to my chest. “I’m an idiot.”
“What happened?”
The story poured out of me. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. I knew better than to fall for him again.”
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up for liking someone.”
“I wish I liked Isaac,” I said. “Ididlike Isaac.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I took a deep breath. “And—sorry if I haven’t been totally welcoming.”
She waved a hand. “You have been. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t have a ton of good friends,” I said stiffly, not even sure why I was telling her this. “Casual friends, yeah. But I don’t connect with lots of people.” I gave what I hoped looked like an easy shrug. “But I guess you’re going to be around awhile.”
“I hope so.” She looked down and smiled, a small, private one, then looked up and smiled wider at me. “Noah always says really nice things about you.”
“He does not,” I scoffed. “I’m sure he barely mentions me.”
“No, he does. He pays a lot of attention to what you like and how you’re doing. And he always sounds really proud of you. He obviously thinks of you as a sister.”
I picked at my nails, feeling like something soft and tremulous had inflated my chest. “Mm.”
“He showed me some of your skating videos. He said you could be great at whatever you wanted.”
My gaze flew to hers. I never would have expected Noah to show anyone my old videos. “I wasn’t good enough to go pro.”
“He said—he said he hoped it was a good thing, not continuing to compete. He hoped you’d be able to like it again if it didn’t carry so much other weight.”
“He’s never said any of that to me.”
A tiny smirk. “Well, Noah’s still working on communicating his emotions.”
I let out a genuine bark of laughter. “Yeah.” Sliding her a sidelong look, I added, “Communication’s not always a Barbanel strong suit.”
She rubbed my back. “I don’t think it’s most people’s.”
Feeling better, I headed to the bathroom to scrub my face and pour a cold glass of water and get ready for bed. “Okay,” I told my reflection. “You’re okay.”
