Someone was shaking my shoulder.

It was fairly gentle, but extremely annoying. "Go away," I mumbled, rolling over onto my face. The shaking stopped.

I was blessed with three seconds of peace, and then the person yanked my arm back harshly, forcing me to turn over. "Wake up!" a shrill voice yelled.

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times at the girl standing over me, strands of brown hair from her ponytail slipping over her shoulders. "Meg?"

"You need to leave now," she hissed, trying to pull me towards the side of the bed. "My grandparents will be home any minute."

I groaned and scrubbed at my eyes, then rolled over and buried my face in the mattress.

"Come on," Meg insisted, her voice high-pitched. "You're one of the few people that can actually walk out of here, so please just make my life a little easier, please?"

"Fine," I grumbled. "I'm going." I looked behind me, for some reason expecting Michael to be still lying in bed. "Hey, what happened to-"

"Yeah, he did the same thing to me," she muttered. "You'll get used to it."

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

She sighed loudly and leaned back on the wall, folding her arms. "He was gone when I woke up."

It felt like my brain was in slow-mode. I stared at her for a second, blinking. "Wait... when you woke up?"

"Yeah. Did you not... oh, wow. This is awkward. Um-"

"You guys fucked?" I said, like an eight-year-old just figuring out how their parents made them. "Last night?"

"It was weird," she said. "It's like four in the morning and he comes stumbling down to the couch and starts drinking, like, buckets of alcohol. Of course, I'm there, with all my beauty and charm, and boom. We're talking and talking, and then he's fucking me on the couch."

I felt nauseous just thinking about it. Which I couldn't afford to do, because I was supposed to be hightailing it out of her house. I was very thankful I had made the decision to put some underwear on last night. Being completely naked in front of Meg did not sound like a fun time.

I slowly wormed my way over to the mattress edge, swinging my feet to the ground, then stood up.

My legs instantly gave out.

I grabbed the bed with one hand, the other flying to my lower back like a crippled old man without a cane. "Fuck," I growled. "Jesus."

"First time?" Meg guessed.

I looked up, my gaze smoldering. "Do you have to be here?"

"Nope," she said, pushing herself up from the wall. She walked around the bed to the door and then stopped, turning around. "Look, I know you hate me and all because you think I'm like your competition or something, but trust me. I've spent over a year on and off with that guy. He's put me through a lot of shit and I'm still here."

I stared at her hollowly for a second, then straightened up best I could, wincing as it increased the soreness at the base of my spine. On my way to the door, I scooped up my pants and shirt - correction, my pants and Michael's shirt - and stumbled into the hall.

I really needed to pee, so finding the bathroom became my new mission. I remembered where one was from last night, where I'd walked in on Rolph searching through the medicine cabinet. Unfortunately, that was all the way down the stairs and as I quickly discovered, walking down stairs was extremely painful.

Have sex they say. It'll be fun they say.

When I knocked on the door, someone called, "Come in!" in a light, friendly-ish voice, which was good enough for me.

I opened the door to see a girl leaning over the counter, squishing her eyelashes with some metal torture-device-looking instrument. She was wearing a gray hoodie and a bright red thong, the only thing on her lower half.

I waddled my way in and cleared my throat. "I need to pee."

"Okay," she said, then moved over to do whatever she'd been doing to her other eye.

I didn't look at her while I relieved myself, because that was sort of weird, and what if she happened to look at me and we made some super awkward eye contact?

Meg was standing in the hallway when I walked out to the living room, holding her phone in her hand and chewing absent-mindedly on her nail. "My grandma just texted me," she whispered. "Well, sort of. She doesn't really know how to text. She's two minutes away."

"Do you, um..." I paused, scratching the back of my head. "Do you want me to stay and, like, help clean? I could just say I'm your friend that stayed over."

Her eyes widened. "No, no, she'd never believe that. She'd probably make you stay for brunch and talk about the wedding."

Though the idea of brunch was pretty appealing, the idea of facing the old lady whose bedsheets I'd most likely cum all over effectively deterred me. "Okay," I said. "See ya."

I headed to the door, then stopped as I glanced in the direction of the couch. The plastic cup was still lying there.

I picked it up and gave her a small smile. "I'll throw this out."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that a peace offering?"

I shrugged.

"I'll probably see you again," she told me as she fidgeted on her feet. "If you hang out with Michael a lot. He's over here all the time." She chewed on her lip a little. "And just so you know, the whole threesome thing, I'm really not into that."

"Yeah, me either," I said. "Hey, I hope it works out with your grandma."

"Thanks."

Still holding the cup loosely, I walked to the door and opened it, squinting up at the sun. It was bright and in the middle of the sky, so I guessed it must be close to noon. I instinctually moved my hand to my back pocket for my phone, then remembered I'd still yet to get it back from the old uber guy.

I was stuck now. I didn't even know what class I should go to, and I didn't want to go home and deal with Michael yet. Normally I would have tried to see Sarah, but I was pretty sure she still hated me. So I just walked along the street, hanging my head down, only moving once to avoid a group of sweaty people jogging together.

I decided to go to the park. I had no clue if Rhoda would be there, but even if she wasn't, I could always sit and take a break and stare at clouds for a while.

I hiked uphill until I reached the grassy field and smiled as I spotted a familiar feminine shape sitting alone, a black sharpie in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I walked up to her silently, her eyes flicking up to mine as I sat down.

"Hey, Ben," she said.

I immediately tilted to my side, feeling a jolt of pain go up my back when I made contact with the ground, and flopped over.

She didn't react at all, just kept looking down at the open notebook she had beside her, making the tips of her wavy hair touch my cheek. "How are you?"

"Horrible," I said, my eyes on the pastel pink skirt she was wearing.

"You should start smoking," she said after a drag of her cigarette. "Smoking helps everything. It also gives you cancer, but who cares. I'm fucking addicted."

I choked out a bitter laugh. "I hate smoking."

"Why do you do it then?" she asked, looking at me finally.

"Because-" Because everyone else does, I was going to say. But that was lame. "I do it... socially."

She snickered. "You're weird."

I turned over a little and sat up slowly, trying to exhale in pain as subtly as possible, then reached for a blade of grass to play with and distract myself. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I was trying to study," she muttered around the cigarette. "But I suck at school. The only thing I'm good at is geometry and that's just because in eleventh grade my geometry teacher was hot and I used to fail everything on purpose so I could stay and get extra help."

I furrowed my brow. "Seriously?"

"Yep," she said. "I could probably be a kick-ass architect or something."

"I never liked any of my teachers," I said.

She scoffed and touched the sharpie to her fingernail, coloring it in carefully. "You've never met Mr. Langley of Greenwood, Indiana."

"Where's Greenwood?" I asked. "Around here?"

"It's like ten minutes away," she said. "Where are you from again? Oklahoma?"

"Ohio," I sniffed.

"I knew it was something with an O," she said. "I don't even know where Oklahoma is."

"Drive directly southwest enough, you'll get there eventually."

She moved over to her next finger, narrowing her eyes as she focused on coloring on her nails. I took the opportunity to look at her more closely, her brown eyes appearing almost amber in the light, her dark eyelashes curling up from her half-closed lids. She was gorgeous.

She looked up for a second, smiling a little, and I smiled back before I even realized it. "You never did this to pass the time in middle school, huh?"

I laughed. "No."

"Can I draw on you?" she asked with a smirk.

I sighed in silent protest and blinked. "Fine."

She beamed excitedly and moved over until we were almost touching and then took my hand, pressing the edge of the marker to my skin. It was cold. I watched her make a wide heart half-way through where she signed her name in sloppy cursive.

I looked at it, then made a grim smile and lowered my arm.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently, her tone low.

I looked to her eyes for a flash second, considering. I didn't know her well enough to trust her (hell, I didn't even trust people I'd known for years) but I figured she had no reason to repeat anything I told her. And besides, even if she did, she didn't know anyone I knew so it wouldn't really matter.

"Um," I started in a small voice. "I'm, like... super confused."

"I get confused all the time," she said. "I'm literally the dumbest bitch on the whole planet."

I tried to laugh, then just started chewing on my lip.

Rhoda leaned over and set her sharpie down, then crossed her fingers together and looked at me determinedly. "So you gonna tell me the problem or not?"

I looked down, twisting the blade of grass in my hand until it broke. "I think I'm, like, in love with someone but it doesn't make sense."

"Okay," she said. "Why not?"

"I dunno," I mumbled.

"Does she feel the same way?" Rhoda asked.

I bit my lip so hard it hurt. "I don't think so. I don't know. I think they like me, well obviously, but I... I just..." She watched me carefully as I rambled. "I just don't think we'll ever be together."

She leaned back a little, and the sun made a glare on her glasses. "Why don't you ask?"

I sniffed. "'Cuz I don't wanna make it seem like I caught feelings when he- she- fuck. Fuck."

"Hey," she whispered, placing her hand over mine softly. "It's okay." I stared at her, trying to force away the tears welling up in my eyes. "Can I give you a hug?" she asked. "You look like you need a hug."

I nodded pitifully and stayed still, so she got up and crawled over until we were close enough that I could wrap my arms around her and press my cheek to her hair.

"It's okay," she murmured, twisting her head so it lay on my shoulder. "Everything's gonna be okay." I felt my pounding heart slow, my breathing calm down. She sort of reminded me of Michael, but maybe that was because they were the only two people who comforted me.

I sank down after she moved back, turning myself onto my back so I could lie in her arms.

"Talk to him," Rhoda said. "Anyone would be seriously lucky to have you."

I looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said, almost shyly. She brushed her hand slowly through my hair, which felt really nice with her long nails. "I mean, I would totally date you. But I take it this means you don't want to."

I closed my eyes for a second. "I wish I did."

We were silent for a while, me looking up at the clouds and her out at the grass. I reached over and picked a tiny flower that was next to me, identical to the one she'd been playing with the day we first came here.

I looked down and then lifted it, offering it to her. She smiled.

"Flowers aren't really my thing," I said. "But Michael gives them to girls when he's trying to win them over."

"Michael? Isn't that crazy guy you got in a fistfight with? Or was that someone-"

"Yeah," I muttered. "He's also the guy I like."

She widened her eyes. "Oh god. That must suck."

I laughed a little. "Kinda."

"Did you like him before or after the fistfight?" she asked.

"Before," I said quietly.

"So you liked him when we-"

"Rhoda, look," I interrupted, sitting back up. "It's not that I don't like you. I had sex with a girl last night and I'm never even gonna talk to her again. You're one of the only people I like to hang out with. And I just told you my biggest secret in the whole world so that's gotta mean something."

She looked down, twitching the sharpie around between her fingers. "So... you wanna be friends?"

"Yeah," I said. I didn't tell her that I'd recently lost my childhood best friend, and she might make an excellent replacement. I actually did like Rhoda. I liked her personality, I liked her voice, I loved her vibe. Sarah had, for the most part, been a necessity.

"I wish you'd gone to high school here," she said. "We could have been popular losers together."

"Popular losers?"

"You know. They act like losers but they're actually super hot and cool and everyone wants to be them." She squinted at me. "What were you? Jock, nerd... ooh. Teenage heartthrob. I bet you were the prom king."

I crinkled my eyebrows. "I think prom king has an at-least-average-height requirement."

"You're not that short," she said.

"Yes I am," I argued.

"Well, you're, like, perfect for someone my height. I can't go and date a guy that's six-four, that would just be weird."

"I dated all the girls shorter than me," I said. "I didn't even want to, I just felt pressured into it like if I didn't people would be like, what's wrong with him, he can't get a girl."

"So you were the player," Rhoda mused. "Girls love players. No idea why, but they do. Maybe if I hadn't spent so much time skipping class to smoke in the parking lot I could have scored myself one."

I frowned. "How can I be the player if I'm the one getting played?"

"Who's playing you?" she said. "The nutcase with the trashed car? Well. I wouldn't waste my tears."

"I would," I murmured.

"You should tell him how you feel," Rhoda said as she picked a petal from the flower.

"I did before. He said something like 'oh, I know' and kept eating his sandwich."

She laughed. "That's just cruel."

"I hate this," I whispered miserably. "I wish I was normal."

"You'll accept yourself someday," she said kindly.

I sniffled. "Doubt it."

"My brother's really gay," she said suddenly, and I scowled. "Everybody kind of knew, but nobody ever said anything until he came out. Anyway, there were times I wanted to just go up to him and say, bro, just say it already, no one's gonna care, but... I realized it wasn't really about that."

"What was it about?" I asked dully.

She shrugged. "Him, I guess, not us. Him being comfortable enough with himself and everyone else to talk about it."

I picked a new flower from the grass and held it gingerly. "So it's noticeable?"

Rhoda blinked. "What?"

"Like, you can tell when someone's..." I trailed off.

She furrowed her brow a little. "I mean, there's, like, clues sometimes. But everyone's different. Why?"

I pressed my lips together, taking a deep breath. "Do you think I look... uh, gay?"

"Not really," she said. "Obviously I assumed you weren't when we met or I wouldn't have tried hitting on you. And of course you did manage to stare at my tits for just about every second of the conversation."

I chuckled. "It's not my fault. They were right there."

She broke into a laugh. "Officer, you can't arrest me for stealing that car. You see, it was parked right in front of me."

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head slightly. "Are you saying you didn't want me to stare at them?"

"No, I definitely did," she grinned.

I raised an eyebrow and snapped the flower off its stem. "There you go then."

"Does this mean I still have a chance?" she asked.

I smirked over at her. "Maybe."

╭-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╮

╰-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╯

We stayed in the park until Rhoda had to leave for her next class. According to her phone, it was exactly 10:13, which meant she had two minutes to speed walk across the street to campus and upstairs to Composition.

It also meant I had to go home.

Rhoda gave me another hug before we parted ways. "Hey, call me if you ever find your phone," she said.

"Will do," I muttered.

I hated walking around this time of day. I bumped into like five different people just trying to make it up the stairs. Eventually I shuffled over to my room and reached down to the doorknob, regretting leaving my keys behind last night. It, of course, was locked.

I heard a shifting noise from inside, like someone moving around. I knocked again. "Hey!" I yelled. "Open the door!"

There came a few padding footsteps that I figured could only belong to a child or someone who walked very carefully, and then the door opened a crack. Out peeked a very pretty and very nervous looking girl.

She didn't say anything, just blinked her big sea-green eyes at me, and I sighed. "Can I come in?" I asked. "Or are you, like, naked?"

She parted her lips in surprise, then opened the door fully to reveal the thin yellow t-shirt and leggings she wore. "Um, nope," she said with an awkward giggly laugh. She had bright white teeth that shown when she smiled like the model of a toothpaste commercial. They were actually slightly off-putting. "Not naked."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, carefully making my way around her. "So who are you? Kitty 2.0?"

"I'm Heather," she said, still smiling like I should have recognized her. "Who's Kitty?"

"You're going to have to leave," I said coldly as I made my way across the floor. "I'm very tired."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said genuinely, the smile dimming. "Michael said it was okay."

"Yeah, and who's he to you? The guy you met at some bar two weeks ago, right?"

She widened her eyes, then gazed past me, a dreamy, 100-percent-infatuated look overtaking her as she thought of him. "Michael? Oh goodness, no. He is the love of my life."