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His arm stays where it is. Uncomfortably warm. Heavy in a way that is not about his muscles being heavy. I don’t shrug him off, even though that’s my first instinct. Friends touch. Lincoln forgets that I last longer if I am the one who starts it. I can endure this. For a minute.

“I’m not asking you to become a fighter, Q. I just don’t want you to vanish into a lab until May. This is my senior year. I want to spend it with people I care about, and you happen to be the only one here on this campus, besides Nathan, I do care about.”

“Lucky me,” I say dryly.

“Come on, Q.” It’s almost a plea.

“I will come watch you fight,” I say. “I won’t come watch you squat.”

“I’ll take it. Love the compromise. You’re definitely growing as a person.”

I shrug his arm off.

That’s my limit. I can walk close to him. I can do the talking. I can’t do the extra weight of another person on my shoulders all the way to the cafe. Not today at least. The campus is so busy and I’ve been in close quarters with so many people today, that I could go back to my room and chill the rest of the day and it wouldn’t bother me.

Lincoln lets me go without comment. He has always been good at that part, once I actually do it. He never takes offense. Which is probably why we’ve been friends so long.

We keep walking. His hands go in his pockets. Mine stay at my sides, where they belong.

The cafe is already loud when we reach it, and it takes everything in me not to put my headphones back on. The scent of coffee is heavy in the air, along with a mix of at least twenty different other smells that make my stomach curl. I pause in the doorway long enough to map the room.

Exposure therapy. My therapist said I should do this at least once a day. But it doesn’t get easier.

Christine already has my favorite table in the corner saved. Vee and Sarah are already sitting across from her, sharing a muffin.

She looks up, sees me, sees Lincoln, and grins. Her face brightens at the extra face, because where I’m an introvert, she is the max of an extrovert. I’m still not sure how we work.

She is out of her chair before we get all the way there. I brace for impact out of habit. She stops short, clocks whatever is on my face, and holds out her fist instead.

I bump it.

The relief is embarrassing.

“You look like you’ve had a morning,” she says, fond. “Sit. I ordered you a sandwich before you could pretend that soda counts as a lunch.”

“I was going to eat.”

She hums. “You were going to say you were going to eat.” She’s already eyeing Lincoln. “You must be the childhood best-friend. You’re taller than the pictures. I’m his best-friend now, Christine.”

“Lincoln,” he says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She smiles and hugs him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Quinn is super proud of your fighting ability.”

I flush. It’s hard not to talk about my friends. They mean the world to me. And outside of my obsession with learning and science, I don’t have much else to talk about. I might not be able to read social cues that well, but I do know that not everyone wants to listen to me talk about chemical reactions for hours.

Although, I could.

Vee lifts two fingers in a wave. Sarah mouths hi around a bite of muffin. They don’t get up. But they never make a production out of hello. I like them a great deal for that.

I take the open chair with its back to the wall. Lincoln slides into the one beside me, and Christine drops back into her seat and pushes a sandwich with fries toward me before stealing a fry.

“How were your classes?” she asks.

“Fine,” I sigh.

“Oh that doesn’t sound promising.”

“Analytical Chemistry was depressing.”