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“Earth to pretty boy,” Luke says. “You’re staring at a wall.”

“I’m admiring the art. Very inspirational. Live laugh love but medical.”

He huffs, then winces in pain. “You’re being weird.”

“How else am I supposed to be when my best friend is in the hospital?” I peel the lid off the Jell-O and make a face at the bright green color. “Also, I bombed a conversation with my roommate. And we are more like strangers than friends lately. So. You know. Normal Thursday night.”

Luke studies me. Even concussed, he can read me. “The smart one?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m in a gown, lying in a hospital bed. I can start whatever I want.” He lets his head fall back. “Do you think you can fix it?”

“No.”

“You should try, you were happier a few weeks ago then I ever saw you.”

I roll my eyes and take a bite of the wiggly dessert. It’s like childhood. “Tonight, I’m just going to sit here and eat your sad little dessert. That’s the extent of my emotional range tonight.”

Ty snorts and Will continues to pretend he isn’t listening.

Luke’s eyes go to the door once, like he’s waiting for someone else to walk through it. I see it, but I don’t ask. I don’t have room in my skull for another man’s disaster.

Mine is still in our dorm room.

I scrape the bottom of the cup before tossing it into the trash. I settle into the chair, because if I go back to the dorm now, I’ll probably stand in the dark and watch him sleep. Which is creepy as fuck.

THIRTY-SIX

QUINN

Daniel’s bed is still made the way he left it, which is to say not made at all. I know he never came home. I checked once at two and once at five and then forced myself to not look at his bed after that because it was pathetic.

I don’t care whose bed he was in.

Except that’s a lie. I do care.

Not that I will ever say that out loud.

I have an exemption to stay in the dorms over break. I don’t really have family to go home to, at least anyone I want to see. We aren’t close like some families. And we sort of just tolerate each other. It’s probably because they are the exact opposite of me. I’m positive I was adopted.

But Vee and Sarah will be staying at their apartment, and they already invited me to Christmas dinner. Surprisingly, I’m dreading the quiet. Even though I’ve been very good about not talking to Daniel. But I’ll miss his soft snores at night, I can’t sleep as well when they are missing. Case in point, last night. Besides, being good at it doesn’t make the room feel less empty when he isn’t in it.

The door opens at 9:42. Not that I’m watching the clock.

Same clothes as last night. Hair flattened on one side like he slept on it wrong. Sunglasses hooked in his collar even though the sky is threatening snow. He looks used-up and exhausted the way he does after a game, only there was no game for him. There was just not being here.

He smells like the outside cold air and something else under it. Sweet. Not him. Jealousy kicks once, clenching my stomach.

“Hey,” he says. He sounds wrecked. Soft. Like he used his voice on somebody else all night long.

“Hey.” I keep my eyes on my open notebook in front of me. “You’re back.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t—I should’ve texted.”

“You don’t owe me a schedule.” I hear how flat it comes out. I don’t fix it. “Roommates don’t keep tabs.”

He flinches like I’m trying to hurt him on purpose. I’m not. Or maybe I am. I don’t know anymore.