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“Okay,” she responds in a weary tone. I assure her I’m fine and tell her to not worry about me and have fun. Before walking out the door, she turns around and says, “Call me if you need anything, or . . . just call me, okay?”

  Waving at her in mock exasperation, I say, “Just go.”

  

  It’s a little after ten o’clock and the rain is now pouring down outside. The evening has been pretty slow as predicted. Only a handful of people are sitting around drinking coffee, visiting with friends, or studying. I have been able to get a decent amount of reading done and am now finishing up some research for a paper I need to write by next week.

  My heart skips a beat, as it does every time the bell above the door rings. I look up to see a guy with dark, wet hair walking in. I hop off my stool and walk over to the register to meet him.

  “Hey, what can I get for you?” I ask.

  Looking at the drink list on the wall behind me, he says, “Uh, just a twenty coffee. Black.”

  Roxy didn’t feel like she needed to give her drink sizes any special names like other coffee establishments, so it’s simply a twelve, sixteen, or twenty.

  “Easy enough,” I say, and before he can look up at me, I am over pouring him his cup of coffee. When I return, he is typing something into his phone. “That’s one ninety-three,” I say as I slide the drink towards him.

  Looking up at me, he hands me a five, and I open the register to get him his change. I feel him staring at me, and when I shift my eyes up, sure enough, he’s staring at me with a confused look on his face.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as I hand him his change. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me, and I’m starting to freak out inside. I can feel the rate of my heart as it increases, and I nervously ask, “Anything else?”

  He finally blinks and shakes his head as he says, “Um, no. No, that’s all,” never taking his eyes off of me.

  Who the hell is this guy? I take a few steps back and accidentally kick the barstool I was sitting on, and it makes a loud scratching noise against the floor. He turns around and starts walking out but looks back over his shoulder at me a couple times before finally leaving.

  Panic shoots through me, and my breathing becomes erratic. Does that guy know me? Does he know Jack? My paranoid thoughts start to overtake me, and I quickly announce to the few people who are still here that we are closing immediately. My voice is trembling, and it doesn’t take long for the place to empty out. As soon as the last person leaves, I lock the doors and turn off the outside lights. I walk back behind the counter, scared, not able to slow down my pounding heart. Sitting down and pulling my knees to my chest, I once again feel defeated and hopeless as the tears start to fall.

  As soon as I get home, I take a sleeping pill, strip off my clothes, and lie down in bed. I hate that I have become so weak and can’t get my shit together. It shouldn’t be like this. I shouldn’t be feeling this miserable every day. It’s been two months, and I know I am stronger than this pathetic girl that lives inside of me and is consuming me.

  

  It’s sometime in the middle of the night when I wake up to Kimber loudly stumbling through the house. She’s giggling, and I hear a guy’s voice before her door slams shut. Great. I am just about to fall back asleep when her moans echo though the walls. My stomach knots up when the guy starts grunting out her name.

  I can’t take this. I am a mix of emotions: pissed, disgusted, jealous, and scared. Throwing the covers off of me, I grab my coat and slide on my Uggs. I need to get out of this house and away from what’s going on in Kimber’s room. So, I grab my keys and leave.

  Quietly, I slide my key into the lock and open the door. Shutting it softly behind me, I walk through the living room while stepping out of my boots and tossing my coat on the couch. When I open the door to Jase’s room, I see he is alone. Thank God. I pull back the covers and slide in behind him. It isn’t long before he rolls over and wraps me in his arms. It is then when my stomach finally unknots, and I fall asleep.

  

  “So what happened last night?” Jase asks when I walk into the kitchen.

  Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I walk into the living room, which is adjacent to the open kitchen, and curl up in a blanket as I sit on the couch. Jase walks in and sits next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

  “Kimber brought some guy home last night, and the pervert wouldn’t stop shouting her name,” I say.

  Chuckling, Jase asks, “Who was it?”

  “I have no clue. I was asleep until they came stumbling in and woke me up.” I take a sip of my coffee before adding, “It was gross!”

  Jase cocks his head to the side and says, “It’s not gross, Candace.”

  “It’s gross,” I insist before taking another sip of my coffee.

  Jase just laughs at me, but I can’t help it. Hearing those two last night was disgusting.

  “Anyway, new subject. How was last night?” I ask. Ever since Mark’s band played at Blur, they have become somewhat of regulars and played another gig there last night.

  “It was fun. You really should’ve come with us.”

  “I told you, I had to work,” I say.

  “Nooo, you volunteered to work,” he responds and gives me a smirk.

  I have been avoiding going out with Jase and Mark. The thought of going anywhere aside from my normal spots, where I feel a little safer about not running into him, scares me. So I stick to school, work, and home.

  “You live in a bubble, Candace,” he says and then grabs the corner of the blanket that I am under and pulls it over his lap as he scoots up next to me. “You need to get out.”

  “I am out.”

  “You’re not. I always know where to find you because you have the same routine every week. It never changes.” He drapes his arm around me and pulls me closer. “I’m worried about you.”

  Sighing, I respond, “You don’t need to be. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t pull that act with me. I know you’re not fine. It’s been two months, and you are no more fine than you were back in August.” Kissing the top of my head, he continues, “I worry because I only know what you tell me. But I wonder how much this really consumes you that you hold in and don’t tell me about. You won’t do anything to help yourself.”

  Taking my coffee mug out of my hand, he reaches over and sets it on the end table. I hate that he’s right. I hate that I am stuck. I hate that I am scared. I hate everything about my life. Every day is so goddamn hard, and all I can do is just focus on going through the motions just to get to the next day, which is the same thing all over again. But, it’s all a façade. Truth is—I’m drowning.

  “I’m constantly scared,” I confess to Jase, and his arms tighten around me. “I’m scared I’m going to see him. And I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but . . . most days . . .” I stop in my thought, my almost confession, which might make Jase drag me straight to a therapist if I tell him. So I lay my head on his chest and take a deep breath when he says, “You can tell me.”

  “I feel like I’m going to die.”

  

  The place is packed when I walk into work Saturday morning. Brandon and I are busy trying to keep up with the drink orders while Roxy deals with the customers. Brandon and I hardly ever work together because our schedules at school are opposite of each other. He’s on a soccer scholarship and is a year behind me. He’s laughing about something when I accidently knock the iced mocha I just made all over me.

  “Crap!” I grab a towel and start wiping the sticky drink off my arms and hands.

  Brandon is laughing at me, and I shoot him a mock ‘go to hell’ look. “Go clean up, I’ll take care of this,” he tells me, and I holler to Roxy that I’ll be right back.

  Luckily, most of the drink spilled on my apron. I wash my arms in the sink and wipe down one of the chocolaty brown spots on my top. When I walk back out, the line is down to only two people. Roxy decides to m
ove off the register and make drinks, so I take her place.

  I look up to take the last customer in line, and there he is. The guy from the other night. Only this time, I’m the one staring and not speaking.

  “You okay?” he asks, and I snap out of my daze.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask. He looks at me intently, which makes me nervous and orders the same drink that he had a few days ago. I turn around and walk over to pour his cup of coffee when Roxy sides up next to me and whispers, “Who’s that guy?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “Well, he’s hot, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.”

  I peek at him over my shoulder and catch him staring. Turning back to his coffee, I snap the lid on and whisper, “He’s creepy.”

  Roxy laughs, and I walk back over to the register. “One ninety-three,” I say as I hand him his drink. When I give him his change, in a moment of bravery, I ask, “Do I know you or something?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  I notice his striking eyes. They are almost clear with a slight hint of blue. I don’t think I have ever seen eyes that color before. Shaking my head, I say, “You stare.” What was that, Candace? You stare? “I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” I quickly apologize.

  Not acknowledging my apology, he asks, “You go to school here?”

  “Yeah.”

  Taking a step back from the counter, he thanks me for the coffee and leaves. I don’t know what to make of the exchange we just had, but decide not to give it anymore thought.

  “What did he say?” Roxy asks.

  “Nothing really. Just thanked me for the coffee,” I say as I walk over to Brandon and help him finish wiping down the counters.

  

  When I get home and pull into the driveway, I notice a red Jeep in front of the house. Walking in, I expect to see Kimber, but she must be in her room. I grab a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, and when I start heading to my room, Kimber is walking out of hers and shutting the door behind her.

  “Hey,” she says when she turns around and sees me.

  “Whose car is out front?” I ask.

  “Oh, that’s Seth’s car.” She says this as if I should know who Seth is. I give her a confused look when she clarifies, “The guy I’ve been seeing.”

  Nodding my head, I softly say, “Oh,” when she walks off. I turn around and walk into my room, closing the door behind me. How could I not know she’s dating someone? Sadness washes over me at the realization that Kimber and I are hardly friends anymore. She has a boyfriend, and I had no clue. I just figured that guy she brought home with her the other night was a one-night stand. I never thought I would drift so far from my best friend. How can we live in the same house and not know each other at all? What’s worse—this is all my fault.

  Chapter Twelve

  The night is cold and misty, and Mark and I are sitting by the fire pit in my backyard roasting marshmallows while we wait for Jase to come over. I am curled up in a blanket as we sit and eat our sugary treat and share a bottle of red wine.

  “Where’s Kimber?” Mark asks, as he stabs another marshmallow onto his skewer.

  Looking over at him, the only light coming from the glow of the fire, I say, “At Seth’s, probably. She spends most nights over at his place, so I’ve been here alone for the most part.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not really . . . well, kinda.” I grab my skewer, loaded with two marshmallows, and place them directly into the flame. I watch the glow of the fire brighten as my marshmallows ignite into a mini fireball. Pulling them out of the yellow crackling blaze, I blow out the flame on my now scorched confection.

  “That’s disgusting,” he says while eying my bubbly, charred marshmallow.

  Sliding off the burnt shell and leaving the remainder of the uncooked marshmallow on the skewer, I shove it in my mouth and crunch down. “It’s fabulous,” I jokingly say with my mouth full.

  Mark laughs and shakes his head at me. “So . . .?” he questions, still wanting a confirmation to his previous question.

  I shove the remainder of the marshmallows that are left on my skewer back into the blaze to repeat the process. “I mean, I like that I don’t have to feel awkward when she’s around, but at the same time, it makes me sad that she’s not around and that we hardly speak.” Eating the last of my marshmallows, I lay the skewer down and continue. “It hurts. Kimber has never been serious with a guy, and now she has a boyfriend I know nothing about. She’s seems really happy, and I wish I was a part of it.”

  “So, why don’t you just talk to her?”

  “Because she knows I’m hiding something and lying to her. She told me that she doesn’t want to be friends with someone who can’t be honest.” Shrugging my shoulders, I take another sip of wine and tighten the blanket around me.

  “Maybe you should . . .”

  Mark is cut off when the door opens and Jase comes outside to join us.

  “Hey, guys,” he says as he walks over and kisses Mark, then turns to me and kisses my cheek. “What are you guys doing out here? It’s cold.”

  Mark holds up the half-eaten bag of marshmallows and says, “I’m fattening up your rail-thin girl over there.” He eyes me with a smirk and winks.

  “Good luck, fatty,” I respond playfully.

  Jase sits opposite me and starts, “So, I want you to come out with Mark and I Saturday night.”

  “Jase,” I say as I slowly shake my head. I don’t go out. I never go out.

  “It’ll be low key, promise. Spines is closing early to have a private concert, and I was able to snag three tickets for us.”

  “You want me to go to a concert?”

  “Candace, seriously? It’s at a book and music store. It’s a private show, but forget about that. You won’t turn me down when I tell you who’s playing,” he says as his smile grows. He reaches in his back pants pocket and pulls out a ticket. He hands me the solid black ticket with two white X’s on it.

  “Are you serious?” I ask as a snatch the ticket from him. “How did you get these?”

  “A friend of Mark’s,” he says.

  “Who?” Mark asks.

  “Ryan. I ran into him at the gym earlier today. We got to talking about music, and he mentioned the show. When I told him my best friend is a huge fan of The xx, he gave me a few extra tickets that he wasn’t using.”

  Looking at Jase, I ask, “Who’s Ryan?”

  Mark answers for him and says, “He owns the bar that my band has been playing at.”

  Holding the ticket, I really want to go, but I am nervous. I sit there quietly, staring into the bright fire, when Jase reaches over and takes ahold of my hand.

  “I really want you to go. You’ll be with the two of us. Nothing will happen,” he assures me.

  Looking at him, I let out a sigh and say, “I don’t know. It makes me nervous.”

  “I know,” Jase whispers. “But nothing will happen. You have to start trying.”

  I look back at Mark, and he shrugs his shoulders and nods in agreement. Letting out a slow breath, I turn back to face Jase. “Okay,” I say with a shaky voice. I need to do this. I know I do. I’m just scared. Paranoid really. I tell myself everyday that I need to function, so I will push down the fear that is already rising inside of me, and try.

  Sitting back, Jase quietly says, “Thank you.”

  

  I stare at the black and white ticket that lies on my desk. Every time I walk past it, I try and reassure myself that I can do this. Jase and Mark will be picking me up shortly. I walk into my closet to find something to wear. Looking around, I decide on simplicity: jeans, a long sleeved white V-neck shirt, brown knee-high boots, and my brown crew-collar leather jacket.

  I hear the guys when they come inside the house and shout, “I’ll be out in a sec. I’m just finishing straightening my hair.” Taking a huge gulp of the wine I’ve been sipping, I look at myself in the
mirror. My eyes look a little glassy, but I’m not surprised. I’ve been drinking since I got home from work a little bit ago, hoping the alcohol will help calm my nerves.

  I turn off my hair straightener, grab my cell, and slide it in my pocket along with my ID and credit card, and I walk through the house to the living room where the guys are.

  “You look great,” Jase says with a smile. “You ready?”

  I nod my head, grab my leopard scarf that is lying on the couch, and tie it around my neck before walking outside. I don’t say much on the drive; I just listen to Mark and Jase talk about school and football. When we arrive at Spines, a trendy book and music store, I begin to panic when I see all the cars.

  “I don’t know about this,” I say quietly.

  The guys get out of the car and Mark opens my door. Holding his hand out for me, he says, “No worries, okay?”

  I slide my hand into his and step out of the car.

  When we walk inside, there is a gathering of around one hundred or so people. There is a bar set off to the side that is serving drinks with tables and chairs scattered about. The lights are set low and there are candles everywhere. I stay with Mark, still holding his hand tightly, as Jase goes to the bar to get us drinks.

  Mark and I browse through the section of vinyl records. Flipping through them and admiring the artwork on the old cardboard cases, I am starting to feel a little more at ease. Jase finds us and hands Mark and I each a bottle of beer.

  “Come on, they’re about to start playing,” Jase says. We walk over, and decide to stand next to another group of people by a low shelf of books. I set my beer down and lean my elbows on the bookcase as Jase and Mark stand on either side of me. I watch as the band takes the small stage that has been set up for them and starts getting their equipment ready. I have loved The xx for years but have never seen them live before.

  The strum of a guitar fills the dark room as they ease into their song ‘Infinity.’ Listening to the slow soothing sounds, I lean into Jase—a non-verbal thank you. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me in closer, and I know exactly what he is telling me with his actions.

  After a few songs, I am ready for another drink. I go with Jase to the bar to get another round for the three of us. When we walk back, I see Mark talking to some guy who has his back to me. When we approach, the guy he is talking to turns around, and I nearly choke on the beer that I just took a sip of.