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I mean it was, like, five minutes ago.

Feels like a lifetime.

“Newsflash for you: you don’t have her,” I snap.

And this is pretty much only my anger talking, since we’ve established she’s in love with him, so I do a double take when he hangs his head and nods.

“I know that, too.”

“Then what are you—?”

He slams his hand into the wall. “You’re right, this was a mistake. She’s better off with you, anyway. I don’t know why the fuck I came here.”

“Jesus, man, make up your mind. We all need someone to—”

“I don’t need anyone.” He storms out, slamming the door behind him.

It echoes all the way to my bones. Deeper still, to where my soul might be lurking.

If I have a soul.

“Keep telling yourself that, cupcake,” I mutter at the closed door and Ryan’s long-gone back. “We all need someone.”

More depressed than before, I head to bed.

***

“I brought you cookies,” Brylee says, entering my apartment, shaking snowflakes off her dark coat. She smiles brightly at me and waves a small cardboard box around.

It has red hearts on it.

“Thanks.” I’m touched, genuinely touched by her visit, by the cookies, by her smile, but since Ryan showed up here two days ago, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of unease. Of incomprehension.

Of uncertainty.

What am I? Her ally in her mission to get Ryan? Her trusted sidekick and fuck-buddy? A friend with benefits?

Should it matter? Why does it feel so important to me? I don’t have the luxury of falling in love, of feeling serious about anything, not now, not with my brother still missing and the situation at my parents’ home precarious as ever.

I wanna fight for her. But despite what Ryan said, she doesn’t want me to.

So why do I feel guilty for having almost sex with both of them?

Stop it, Rid, dammit. It’s just physical release, and neither of them really wants me. With good reason. I’m a mess, and they know it.

So why do I feel like that—so out of sorts?

“Hey, there’s this event for the children at the hospital,” she says, studying the spines of the few books I have on my shelves, the box of cookies in her hands. “On Wednesday.”

“What event?”

“The one I told you about last week. Just an afternoon with Disney songs and movies. We dress up as their favorite characters and play with them.”

“Sounds cool. Have fun.”

“Rid.” She bats her lashes at me. “Pleasepleaseplease?”

“Please, what?”


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