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“I’m sorry.” I chuckle. “But this seems like the stuff every stomach ache is made of.”
She grins, the happiness back in her eyes. “I have built an immunity to such things.”
“If you say so. If you need me to bring you some Tums later, let me know.”
“Well, I’d need your number for that.”
I arch a brow, burger halfway to my mouth. Her cheeks turn red.
“That was horrible. I swear I had some type of ability to flirt before. But that feels like another lifetime, you know?”
God, do I ever. Everything feels that way. Like life is now all about before Ben and after him.
“I understand. Lucky for you, I have no ability to flirt, so you saved us both.”
“Good.” She beams. “So, where do you live?”
“In Williamsburg. I used to live on campus, but I recently moved back in with my grandma.”
“Oh, you graduated?”
“No.” I know my answer is short, but I choose to leave it at that.
Because the whole story behind it would take me to a place I don’t want to go right now. There seem to be so many places I have to avoid every day. Like around each corner is two options. Go right down the dark hole where my memories of Ben live, or go left and try to pretend the death of my best friend isn’t burning a hole into my heart. Both options are becoming just as draining as the other.
“Oh, okay. I’m at Berkeley. Second year.”
“Berkeley, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, where all the nerds go.”
I grin. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did. And just where did you go?”
“Lovett University.”
“Hmm, the party school. Do you like to party, Elijah?”
“Hate it. But I used to go for… for Ben.”
She nods. “I went to Berkeley because it’s where Callie went. I couldn’t fathom moving away and leaving her behind.” She gives a dark chuckle. “Which is funny, huh? I couldn’t leave her, and yet, she left me.”
Damn, that hurt to hear. And resounds so deeply within the part of me that feels that same way.
“God, I just made this extremely morbid,” she murmurs.
“No.” I rush to say. “You didn’t. I can’t tell you how many times that same thing crossed my mind. I wanna blame him for leaving, but at the same time, how can I when I saw what staying did to him?”
“You get mad, and then feel guilty for getting mad.”
“Exactly.” I sigh, because it feels better than words can explain to have someone understand that.
“Well, I would say we’ve just established our very own support group at the corner of Washington and Burns. Shall we meet again next Saturday?”
I bark out a laugh. “I guess we did. And it must be working because I honestly cannot remember the last time I’ve actually laughed in, well months I guess.”
“When did he…”
