• • •

The first week back at college after the Thanksgiving break is pretty good. Great, even. I get a head start on two essays due in at the end of the semester and in a rare moment of not being an ass, my boss gives me a raise. An extra seventy-five cents an hour doesn't sound like much but it's ten bucks a week that I didn't have before. By Thursday, the week couldn't be going any better.

It's Friday that everything turns to shit.

By the time it hits twelve o'clock and Gray and I have a break between classes, my stomach is rumbling so loud that half of Starbucks can hear it. Until an hour ago, I was supposed to be seeing Liam for lunch but he couldn't make it. I haven't seen him for more than a few snatched minutes since Tuesday, but it's actually quite nice to spend more time with Gray.

Weird, I know. We live together, after all, and we spend three hours a day in the car together, but it's different. It's so nice to just sit down with him, armed with a couple of hot drinks – it turns out Ohio has pretty bitter winters, and the last week of November has proven to be vile so far – and talk without having to keep my eyes on the road.

He sits cross-legged on the sofa, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands. We were lucky to get this space. In this weather, everyone wants to be in the heat of the coffee shop, but Gray seems to have a magical power that means there's always a seat available right as we make it.

"I don't know what to get Nav for Christmas," he says, chewing his thumbnail. "Her family doesn't technically celebrate Christmas but ... it's Christmas. I've gotta get her something."

I hadn't even thought about that. I've never had to think of anyone but Mom and Kris for Christmas but now my family has practically doubled. We only have another two weeks of this semester before the break, which is ridiculous when we just had a whole week off for Thanksgiving, but then we're right back on the second of January.

"She loves books," I say. I've never been good at giving gifts. I hate assuming what someone will like. When I was a kid, I'd give Mom and Dad coupons, silly things like offering to do the dishes or make them breakfast.

"But she works in a bookstore. She knows all the books."

"I promise you, you know more. You could do her personal recommendations, or a stack that makes you think of her or something." I form a square with my hands and say, "You could write out notecards for why you chose each one."

His eyes light up and he sits a little straighter, bringing his mocha to his lips. "That's a good idea, actually. Reckon she'd like it?"

"She'd love it," I say. I know she'll love whatever he does: she's told me as much several times. He can do no wrong. She's smitten.

"Awesome. What about you? Any plans for hot frat guy?"

"I don't know." I sigh. I can't exactly do him a book of coupons. Can I? I don't think I can. They'd probably have to be dirty, and I don't want to do that. "I'll think of something."

"Nearly four weeks until Christmas anyway," he says. "You've got time. And worst-case scenario, just give him a good time." He winks and lurches away in anticipation of me poking him – even though I don't – and he manages to slosh his drink over himself in the process.

He's a mess, but I love him.

"Speaking of lover boy," he says, "where is he?"

"Frat stuff," I say. I'm assuming, anyway. Whenever Liam's busy, it's something frat-related. I'm not sure when he gets any work done, all his time spent with me or his brothers, but I've seen his grades. He can get an eighty on an essay with minimal effort. Though I wouldn't be surprised if they have some kind of communal workforce, everyone helping each other out. Maybe they pay the smart ones.

"Any parties coming up?"

"There'll be a Christmas one the weekend we break up," I say. I know that'll be a big one. I'm still not a hundred percent sure about these frat parties. I'd prefer something low-key, just a handful of us, but I'm not here to uproot tradition.

"Awesome. We going?"

"Sure," I say. It's kind of my duty. Liam may be a junior but he's one of the top guys, a big deal in his frat. It probably wouldn't look great if his own girlfriend avoided his parties. At least I can hang out in his room if it gets too much. Davis is never there. He knows I can't stand him. The feeling's mutual.

"I'll take it easy this time. And I'll make sure Nav makes it. No drinks until she's by my side," he says, though we both know that's unlikely. Gray loves parties. He loves getting swept up in the moment and drinking with the guys. They treat him like an honorary brother when he's around.

None of them bother me anymore. For a while after Liam and I started hanging out, some of them still hit on me. A few tried to lure me to their rooms. Several got a bit too close for comfort. But as soon as we were official, that all changed. Liam must have laid down the law with them. As much as I hated the way they looked at me, it was kind of nice in a way to have their attention.

Outside, the sky is virtually black and it's not even one o'clock. Then the heavens open and rain lashes the quad. Everyone's rushing to get out of the downpour, some unlucky souls caught without a hood or an umbrella. I've taken to keeping one in my bag at all times. The weather is just too unpredictable not to be prepared.

"Ugh." Gray groans and stretches out on the sofa we're sharing. When it's quieter, we take one each but it's so packed today that we're squashed together on one side of a table, so there isn't really any space for him to stretch. He does anyway.

"What?"

"This weather." He groans again, his head tipped back to look out of the window. It's hard to see through the rain though, the glass speckled with droplets that race down in rivulets that merge together like rivers. "I don't want to go to freaking classical lit. I just want to get home, light a fire and curl up with a book."

"You could curl up with a book right now," I point out, and I nod at his bag. Even when he doesn't have a paperback safely stashed away, he always carries his e-reader and its hundreds of digital novels.

"I can't." He pouts, pushing out his bottom lip. "I didn't bring a book and I forgot to charge my kindle."

I push his legs off my lap and scoot to the edge of the cushion. "Disaster. I guess we should go home. We have no other option."

"Astoria, you cheeky thing," he says with a laugh. He doesn't protest, and I'm not joking. We have classical lit three times a week but the lectures the professor prepares are only long enough for two, so Friday's classes are always a dragging bore that he tries to pad. We're both on course for the grades we want anyway. It's hard to care.

"Is that a yes or a no?" I finish the dregs of my hot chocolate, the last inch richer and sweeter than the rest.

"What do you think?" He downs the last of his drink and thuds the mug onto the table. "Let's go."

There's a moment of pure liberation after making a decision to skip class. It's like a momentary weight is lifted off my shoulders, one that'll slowly sink down again before the next class, but for now I'm free. The weather may be crap but at least the traffic will be a million times better than it'll be at five.

Plus, we went to two classes today already. Three is overkill.

The race to the car is beyond wet. It's impossible to avoid deep puddles and it doesn't take long for my sneakers to get soaked through, my toes frozen and squelching in my sodden socks. There's only so much my umbrella can do before the wind turns it inside out and threatens to rip it from my hands.

The closest parking lot is five minutes away, even when we jog – though I can't jog for more than a minute without my heart threatening to give in – and by the time we reach my car, my thumb too numb to unlock it and my hair is drenched, plastered down my back.

"Maybe we should've waited for the rain to end," I say through chattering teeth once I wrench open the door and drop into the seat. I wish it was seated, but my car's a bit old for that. In summer, it takes an age for the air conditioning to kick in and in winter, it feels like hours before the heating finally starts working.

"I underestimated Mother Nature." Gray's shivering hard. He reaches back between our seats to grope around before he pulls a blanket forward. Rather than just wrap it around himself, he peels off his sweater and his t-shirt before snuggling into the thick wool. I wish I could do the same.

The heating is cranked all the way up. Gray's music is blaring over the sound of the rain thrashing the roof of the car. The windscreen wipers are working overtime to clear the rain enough for me to see. My headlights are on full to cut through the settling haze. For once, everyone else on the road seems to be on high alert. I hate when I'm the only one driving carefully.

Somewhere in the distance, a strike of lightning illuminates the sky for less than a second. A heavy rumble of thunder follows. Gray buries himself deeper in the blanket, his feet pulled up onto the seat, and I flex my freezing hands to stop them from getting too numb to clutch the steering wheel.

My phone beeps. I nod at Gray. He's always on phone duty in the car, and he reluctantly snakes a hand out of his cocoon to see who wants me.

"Guess," he says.

"Liam? Or Mom," I say.

He makes a buzzer sound. "Nuh-uh."

"Tad? Navya? Kris?"

Another buzzer sound.

"We're out of people who text me," I say drily.

"It was an email," he says. "Fifty percent off Domino's with a valid student ID, one day only." He goes quiet for a moment. "Can we get a Domino's?"

If he'd given me a second more, I'd have been able to see that coming. He's a sucker for pizza. I am too. And I can't refuse a good deal.

"They don't deliver to Five Oaks," I say. No-one does. We're in the middle of nowhere. The closest town with a Domino's is twenty minutes away. It'd be quicker just to make our own.

"We drive past one on the way home. We could get two giant pizzas for the price of one. Or four for the price of two. We could stock up and eat pizza all weekend," he says, practically drooling. I can hear the pizza lust in his voice. It's infectious.

"I only have twenty bucks," I say. He digs out his phone, flexing his fingers before he loads his online banking app and types in his password.

"Never fear. I have..." He squints at the screen. His eyebrows screw up, his nose wrinkling. I can't tell if he's shocked or horrified.

"What? Have you been hacked or something?"

He shakes his head. "I have five hundred more than I should," he mutters.

"Your mom?"

He grimaces and nods. "I told her to stop. I don't want her money. For God's sake."

"Well, you have two choices," I say, recognizing that the more we dwell on this, the more upset he'll get. "You can send it back, or you can spend it on pizza."

He snorts a laugh. "Five hundred bucks on pizza?" He shoves his phone away again. "Maybe fifty," he says, "and the other four fifty on parenting books. If only I knew her address."

I laugh. It's the only thing I can do. Thankfully Gray does too, after a moment. There's a flicker of painful tension before he drops his shoulders and lets out a quiet laugh.

"I'm not fighting her anymore," he says. "I'm not talking to her. If she wants to send me money, that's her prerogative. More takeout for us."

• ••

We don't quite spend fifty dollars on pizza, but not far off. After a twenty-minute stop at the closet Domino's to home, we come away with two large pizzas loaded with toppings, a couple of mediums for Mom and Tad later, and almost every side on the menu. It's pretty dangerous to order while hungry, even more dangerous with a bit of money in the bank.

It's a relief to make it home two hours after setting off. The rain made it impossible to even reach the speed limit, let alone break it, and I wasn't about to put our lives at risk just to get home with still-hot pizza.

It's warm enough. Mom and Tad are still at work. Gray and I don't bother with plates or cutlery: we just drag blankets down to the living room, where we put a movie on the TV and sit with a mountain of pizza, chicken and garlic bread between us. The storm rages outside, the wind rattling the front door as the rain comes close to smashing through the window.

It's perfect.

"This is heaven," I say, using two hands to carefully guide a cheese-laden slice to my mouth. We're watching Clueless, one of my old favorites that I introduced Gray to. This must be the fifth time we've watched it together in as many months, but this is the best way. It's only four, but we're swaddled in pajamas and stuffing our faces.

Mom's the first to get home and raise her eyebrows at us when she steps into the living room, peeling off her coat. "Long day, was it?" she asks with a laugh in her voice, taking in the sorry sight of us sprawled out with comfort food and comfort TV.

"You know it," I say. "How was work?"

"Good," she says, ducking out to put her stuff away before she joins us. She perches on the edge of the coffee table and steals a slice. "Long, but good. Is Tad not home yet?" She checks her watch and purses her lips.

"Not yet," I say. "We got extra pizza for you guys, if you want. It's keeping warm in the oven."

"I'd better have it, if only to save you two from yourselves," she says, but she makes no effort to move. Mom works most of the day on her feet, which is getting easier now that she's on the right meds and getting stronger every day, but it's still exhausting. She always likes to sit for a bit when she gets home, especially after walking half a mile home.

"Tonight's a veg-out night," I say. "We're eating crap and watching ... well, slightly better than crap, but not exactly high brow."

"What are we watching?" She frowns at the screen.

"Nineties cult classic," Gray says. "One of the most iconic cinematic feats of the decade."

"Hmm." Mom purses her lips and waves a hand. "The nineties passed me by."

It isn't long before she's mirroring us on the other sofa. When Tad gets home just before five, he laughs at the three of us but his mockery doesn't last long. Soon enough, he has a plate of pizza on his knees and Gray's explaining the plot up until this point, more than two thirds of the way into the movie.

My phone buzzes with a text. I glance down and only open it when I see that it's from Liam.

I'm sorry I didn't see you today :( things got crazy and I totally lost track of time. I miss you. love you. see you soon?

I miss him too, and I feel so pathetic every time I realize that. It's not like he's far. At least, not when I'm at college. He's rarely more than a few hundred meters away, but when I'm home, it feels more like a few hundred miles.

I miss you too :( I'm already home but you're welcome to drag your butt down to 5 oaks if you want to. love you too <3

i want to see you. are you around tomorrow if I drive down?

I smile to myself and text back an affirmative, warmth spreading through me. Maybe it's just the pizza, or the fact that I might actually be layered in enough blankets to start cooking myself from the inside out. But I like to think it's just a side effect of talking to Liam. The warmth spreads further when his reply pops in. Definitely not just the pizza.

cant wait to see you. sorry I wasn't around much this week. you're my #1. I don't have the words for how much I love you. (maybe I can borrow some from my favorite English student??)

Gray peers at me and asks, "Whatcha grinning at?"

His eyes are on my screen before I even turn it to him. "Ah. Lover boy being all lovey-dovey, huh? Do I need to up my game with Nav? I don't think I send enough gushy texts."

"You're a naturally gushy person," I say. When my phone buzzes again, I assume it's another message from Liam, but the buzz doesn't stop after just one. "Speak of the devil." I show Gray the screen with Navya's name on it. For a moment, I panic that I'm supposed to be working right now, but I'm sure I checked the schedule.

I'm not on it. I'm sure.

"Hey," I say when I untangle myself to leave the room.

"Hey, where are you?" Navya asks. There's no sign of her usual chirpiness.

"Um, I'm at home. I'm not on the schedule today. Right?"

Navya sighs. It's not a frustrated sigh, but I can't figure out what it is. Almost sad. But I don't know why. "No, you're not supposed to be here," she says. "I was just hoping you were still on campus. Damn it."

"No, Gray and I skipped our last class. We came home a few hours ago," I say. "Is something wrong? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she says, her voice lightening for a moment before it drops. "I just need to talk to you. I really need to talk to you. I ... shit, I can't do this over the phone."

My pulse quickens, my skin prickling. "Navya? What's going on? Is this something to do with Gray?" I whisper the last part, aware that he's probably listening.

"What? No, no. Shit. Hold on. I'm thinking," she says. The worry in her voice is killing me; there's a thickness in her tone that suggests she's about to cry. There are only a few things that make her cry. My stomach drops at the thought. "Ok, I'm coming over."

"Jesus, Navya, what? I'm two hours away!"

"I know, I know," she says, "but we really need to talk. It can't wait. Damn it. I thought you might still be here. Sorry, Storie."

"If it can't wait, tell me now," I say, tucking my hand under my elbow to stop it from shaking. "You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry, Storie. I'm really sorry. I just need you to hear this from me." Her voice quivers. "I'm on my way."

"Navya, what is it?"

"We can't do this over the phone. I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can." She lets out a quiet laugh but I can hear that she's crying when she sniffs and says, "Damn it, Storie, why'd you have to live so far away?"

• • •