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Standing outside of her accommodation, I’m not sure how I got here. I drove, I think. That would explain why I’m sitting inside my car at the moment. And why I messaged her. And why I’m staring up at her window, praying she’s home.

There’s a light in her window and I can see a shadow moving about. I try to imagine what she’d be doing tonight. Studying, obviously. Thinking about me as much as I think about her? Something in the back of my mind hopes so. My phone buzzes once, twice.

Eden Miller:

Give me a minute

You can come up now

That was quick. Opening my car door, my breath catches as the cool air rushes in. Wishing I had grabbed a jumper before I left, I walk towards the main doors. Unlocked, thankfully. I make my way up to Eden’s room, using each step as a reminder as to why I’m here.

I need to talk to someone.

Step.

I need some advice.

Step.

She’s someone I can trust.

Step.

I need to talk to her.

And on and on until I reach her room. Third level. Exactly where I left it, near Gemma’s. I don’t know why my palms get all sweaty now. Or why I feel like I should find the nearest toilet and empty the entire contents of my stomach. But I don’t do that. Instead, I knock. And she answers.

“Oliver?” She looks at me, confused. I know after my text earlier she expected me to show up at her door. But seeing me here, exhaustion carved in my features? It’s not exactly what she was expecting, if she was expecting anything at all.

“Can I come in?”

She must notice the look on my face because she steps aside, hesitating only a moment. I suddenly don’t know what to do with myself.

“What’s going on?” Eden’s hazel eyes question me from behind her glasses as she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I don’t see how this warrants an in-person apology.” The corner of her mouth quirks up as she crosses her arms.

“Do you have tea?”

“Do I have tea?” She repeats slowly. I sigh.

“I need a tea.”

She nods silently, then enters the little kitchenette attached to her room. “We’ve got Earl Grey, lavender, vanilla chai, New York Breakfast…”

“New York Breakfast would be great.”

She flicks the kettle on and pulls out two matching mugs. “Sugar?”

“One please.” We wait in silence as the kettle boils and the tea steeps, then she adds milk and hands me a mug. Clutching my hands around its warmth, I take a sip as Eden watches me. Just what I needed. The tea. Obviously.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Dad’s business is going under.” I rip the band-aid off, and her eyes widen in shock.

“Oh.”