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“Sorry,” I say to Ms. Cortez when I enter. She’s still taking attendance.

“No worries.” She winks at me. My favorite is probably what she’d finish with if we weren’t in class. I take a spot behind Peter Macintosh because the universe loves to humble me. If he asks a single, useless question just to bother me, I’m going to wrap the arms of his backpack around his neck.

Whoa, too violent. I’m spending too much time with Lexie. Though most days we keep a quiet company, me studying and her typing away on her laptop. So far, writing has stuck. And it’s special, because every time I ask Lexie to read what’s she’s written she snaps at me that “it’s not ready yet.” And when she catches me sneaking a look anyway, she pulls my hair and calls me a very colorful, very creative insult.

During class, I raise my hand to ask a question, and right in the middle of the teacher’s explanation Peter blurts out another question with such urgency the teacher moves on.

Maybe I should strangle him.

Even when I have more questions, I keep them to myself to prevent having to hear Peter’s voice again. I make a note to just email the teacher later. I am her favorite.

After class I take my time since it’s the final bell. Surprisingly when I walk out, Theo isn’t there like he usually is. He’s shown up after school enough that Lexie said she’s going to create a schedule to share custody of me, but sometimes we all just hang out: Lexie writing, me asking Theo to stop talking while she does, and Theo hiding my homework away.

A new comfort I’m adjusting to.

Instead of waiting around for him—again, I am no lovesick puppy—I head to my locker and grab the jean jacket Theo said I could have. Secretly, I haven’t washed it since. Because the fruity scent that wraps around me while I place my arms through brings another new comfort, one that makes my cheeks warm, makes my chest feel like a dozen candles flicker alive when I inhale.

It’s only when the hallway begins to clear out completely and the noise dies down that I frown. I text Theo asking where he is and hang by my locker waiting to see bubbles appear, but they don’t.

As I do, one of the janitors, Mr. Maurice, walks by and says, “What’s up, little flower?”

I smile and wave. “Hi, Mr. Maurice. Don’t work too hard.”

“My life’s motto, kid.”

He moves on, pulling his supplies behind him. There’s this Discord group I got my dad on where you can find people who work the same job as you and bond. He’s made so many friends there, Mr. Maurice being one of them, and sometimes he shows up to watch games with my dad, and he’s picked up on my nickname.

See, Dad, sometimes I do have good ideas. Maybe one day we can circle back to the dating conversation. When I’m confident he won’t ground me, or worse, hide all my favorite ballpoint pens for note-taking—that was a dark week for me.

My nails dance along the metal of the locker while I wait.

My phone vibrates and I pull it up, expecting to see Theo’s name. Instead, Chloe’s appears, and my stomach feels like it’s freezing into a block of ice.

It’s a photo.

I click the notification to see the full size and recognize the room—my study hall room—and my heart picks up at the sight of Theo and Rachel talking.

I drop my backpack off my shoulder and hurry to them.

Critical mistake on my part. I pick up my pace as I turn the corner. I thought Rachel wouldn’t risk herself and Chloe getting in trouble, figured that threatening me with the dean was the only punishment she would think of.

The door is just feet away from me now.

I made the worst mistake you can make with your opponent. I underestimated her. Or I overestimated myself—maybe a terrible mixture of both.

When I swing the door open, Theo, Rachel, and Chloe all turn toward the noise.

My heart thunders in my chest, and all the guilt I’ve slowly burned off these past weeks returns, poking at me like dozens of tiny needles pressing into my skin. The girls look to me, but Theo’s gaze pulls away and meets the floor instead.

“What’s going on here?” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“You know,” Rachel says, walking toward me. She whispers so only I can hear as she shoves a paper at me. “You almost had me when you said you were only using Theo.”

I unwrinkle the paper and a sheet from my binder I must have missed grabbing when I dropped it after Rachel and Chloe confronted me—one filled with doodle hearts, and Theo’s name written all over when my attention was drifting from the work.

Out of all the papers to lose. God, the universe continues to make my life harder than it needs to be.

I wrinkle it back in my palm. I repeat, more forcefully this time. “What is going on here?”