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Vague and evasive. Not suspicious at all. Especially when I pull into the potholed dirt lot. Motorcycles line the lot, and several smokers in distinct leather jackets linger out front. Before I can question her judgment, she’s out of my truck. “Wait here.”

Like hell I’m going to sit here while she goes into the sketchiest bar south of Hartford. This place is the definition of dive bar. I can hear Collin in my head saying something about having to dive for your life when a fight breaks out. Can’t seem to get him out of my head.

I follow after Rachel, giving the guys out front a wide berth. They’re not paying attention to us.

The cramped interior is loud and smoky. Guess outside isn’t the only place reserved for smokers. The lights are dim. The neon signs are the brightest source of light. Rachel walks directly to the back, past the pool table, through the entry leading to the restrooms. I lean against the edge of the counter, not taking my eyes off the back of the bar, where she just disappeared.

“What can I getcha, pretty boy?” the bartender asks.

I shake my head, dismissing him.

“You can’t take up space at my bar without ordering a drink.”

“A bottle of beer is fine. I don’t care what kind,” I tell him, pulling out my wallet and tossing a ten on the bar.

The bottle slides in front of me and the ten disappears. No change. Whatever. I take a tentative sip just so I don’t get any more shit from the bartender. I didn’t think picking up something from her friend would require a beer. The longer I stand here, the more attention I attract. Which makes me feel like I’ve been here way too long. “C’mon, Rachel,” I say under my breath. “What the heck are you doing?” I’m too clean-shaven—hell, clean—to be a regular. I want out of here, now.

Finally, Rachel walks back through the entry with a guy by her side. She nods as he talks, not happy. “Give me a few days,” I hear him say. She looks pale in this discolored light.

When we’re back out in the fresh winter air, I notice she’s even more pale than I originally thought. She has shadows under her eyes. “I don’t feel very good,” she says just as I’m about to ask if she’s okay. “Can you take me home?”

I nod.

We drive in silence. By the time we arrive at the house, her forehead is shining with small beads of sweat. I have to take the key from her. Her hands are shaking so badly she can’t put it in the lock. As soon as the door opens, she rushes up the stairs to the bathroom and vomits.

I find a face cloth in the small closet inside the minuscule bathroom and run cold water over it before setting it on the back of her neck. Something my mother did for me and my brother when we were sick. I need a moment to detach from the memory. A shiver runs through me. My past is never going to let me go.

“Thanks,” she says, after flushing. She leans over the sink and rinses her mouth and splashes water over her face. She grips the edges of the sink, taking deep breaths.

“What can I get you?”

“Cold and flu syrup in the kitchen cabinet. Can you… bring that to me?” Her words come out breathy, like she has to concentrate on every one.

I search the cabinets until I find it in the one next to the fridge, then bring it to her with a bottle of water. She’s already changed and is pulling back the blankets. “Sorry about tonight.”

“Not your fault.” I set the bottle of water and flu medicine on the nightstand… next to an empty condom wrapper. Not mine. That’s definitely not happening. Blurring lines is not a good idea. But is it messed up to feel relieved to see it? That she’s not holding onto any misconceptions about us.

I leave Rachel to her fever and body shakes. Hopefully the meds help her sleep. I sit on the couch and use my phone to find somewhere nearby that’s still open. My stomach is about to eat itself, I’m so hungry.

I arrive at Collin’s new apartment to help him move his furniture the morning after speaking with Sadie. We didn’t say a time, so I chose early. I carry a tray of coffees and the bag of breakfast sandwiches, up the flight of stairs and walk into number twenty-three without knocking. Collin’s still lying on the blow-up mattress. The only blow-up mattress. I search the small apartment.

“Where’s Sadie?” I ask Collin when I finally get him to open his eyes. Her bag is still here. My eyes automatically zone in on the pillow next to him. They slept in the same bed. Together.

“Getting coffee and breakfast,” he mumbles. Then notices the tray I set on the kitchen island. “Well, now we’ll have more.” He rubs his eyes and sits up. Not wearing a damn shirt. “What’s that look for?”

“Just… nothin’. Why don’t we go for a walk? Show me around campus?”

“Right now?” Collin asks, like I’ve asked him to run a marathon. When I don’t respond. “Fine. Someone’s in a mood this morning.”

While he’s in the bathroom getting dressed, my father’s words come back and punch me in the gut. The first and only time I ever hit him also happened to be the night Sadie came over for dinner and witnessed me losing it. I never told her what he said. But I will never forget it.

“She’s too good for you. She’ll figure out she’s with the wrong guy. And so will you when you find her fucking your best friend.”

"You're back early.” Emma’s voice startles me out of the memory. I don’t know why I slipped into that moment. Perhaps it was seeing the wrapper in Rachel’s room. I still have my phone in my hands, searching for a place to eat when Emma sets a pizza box on the coffee table. It smells fricken incredible.

"Rachel's sick," I explain.

Emma offers to share the pizza with me, and I can’t refuse it. She groans when she realizes the movie she selected is a horror flick. I’m not the biggest fan of horror movies either. Action, definitely. Action with monsters and aliens, sure. But horror, when the only intention is to scare the shit out of me, no thanks. Sadie and I were similar that way. We always seemed to agree on what movies to watch. Collin was a whole different story.