There was a shooting. There was a shooting. There was a shooting. The news keeps saying that ten people were killed, and seven were hurt, but they won't give out names. Or how many kids were injured.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god," I say. I feel like all of the color drains from my face. The plate of drinks slips from hands and I hear the glass shattering distantly. Brooke touches my shoulder and I turn around and look at her.

"Andy, what's wrong? Andy?" she's asking.

"There was a shooting at Bobbe's school. At his school," I tell Brooke and her face falls.

"Oh, my god," Brooke says quietly.

"Ten people are fucking dead," I tell her, and I feel like there's ringing in my ears.

"Oh, my god," Brooke says again. She pulls out her phone and her hands are shaking. "Did he go to school?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. He wanted to stay home, but Tasha was only going to let him stay home for the first half of the day," I say. My stomach drops even further. "Oh, my god. What if he went back to school?"

"He's probably okay," Brooke tells me. She swears and looks at her phone. "Tasha won't pick up," she says.

"It's an elementary school," I say. "Who the fuck would do that? Shoot seventeen fucking people? Shoot kids?"

Brooke shakes her head. "I don't know."

I feel like I can't breathe. What if Bobbe's dead? What if he got shot? What if he hid under a desk and watched his classmates die? What if he's never going to smile again? What happens if he's not okay?

Bobbe has to be okay. He probably stayed home the whole day. He must have. He has to be okay. Bobbe's like this little ray of sunshine that makes everyone smile, and he's only six. He's so naughty and cute.

Bobbe can't be gone.

I feel like I'm so close to crying, but I'm holding back the tears for some reason. And I feel so frantic and my hands won't stop shaking. There was a shooting. There was a shooting. There was a fucking shooting.

I look at Brooke. "Shit," she mutters. "It keeps going to voicemail."

"Oh, no."

"It's probably okay. You know, I'm sure they're fine," Brooke says, but her hands are shaking.

"What if...what if he—" I start, but my voice breaks.

Brooke doesn't say anything. "This shit shouldn't be happening," she says. "I feel like the only thing in the news is shooting after shooting after shooting."

I look at the TV. "The police have captured the suspect, a male in his late fifties. It's unclear at this time if the two six year-olds in critical condition have made it into surgery..."

Brooke and I just stare at each other with wide eyes, and a single tear falls from her right eye.

"I'm going to go outside and get some air," I tell Brooke. She nods and hands me her phone.

"I'll clean up the glasses. If Tasha calls..." she trails off. I nod and walk to the door. It's so fucking cold when I get outside, but I can barely feel it. Everything seems like such a disaster, and suddenly all of my problems don't matter.

I can't even begin to imagine the nightmare for all of the parents whose kids went to school and carried away in stretchers or body bags. And all of the kids that won't smile quite the same again.

Brooke's phone rings and I almost drop it. "Tasha?" I ask.

I can hear her crying. "I almost took him to school. I almost took him," she's telling me hysterically. "My baby, my baby."

"It's okay," I tell her. "You couldn't have known."

"He doesn't know yet," she tells me. "One of the mom's called me. Majeste got shot. He and Bobbe are best friends. They said they were rushing Majeste into surgery, but it's bad. It's so fucking bad."

"I know. I saw the news," I tell her. "Who the fuck would do this?"

"I don't know. I don't fucking know," Tasha says. "Someone said it was this racist older man who targeted Kendall Cross because it's a black school in a bad neighborhood."

"The news said they brought him into custody."

Tasha sniffles. "How the fuck do I tell Bobbe?"

"I don't know." I sigh. "I'm just so thankful he's okay. Focus on that."

Tasha doesn't say anything for a minute. "Will you come over later?" she asks. "If Majeste makes it out of surgery, I think Bobbe should see him."

"Of course." I sigh. "I'm going to go tell Brooke."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

I sigh as I walk inside. I walk over to where Brooke is and her the phone. "Bobbe's okay," I tell Brooke. "But one of his friends got shot and it's really bad."

Brooke sighs and wipes a few tears away that fall quickly. "At least he's okay," she says.

"Tasha hasn't told him yet," I tell Brooke. I sigh. "I think I'm going to head home. I'm not sure if I'll come back tonight."

"Yeah, of course," Brooke says. She sighs and then hugs me. "At least we have each other."

"Yeah," I say. "We're Bobbe and Tasha's family."

I walk to the locker rooms and try to take deep breaths. Bobbe's okay. I can calm down now.

I walk into the locker room and go to my locker. I grab all of my stuff quickly. I hear the door open and then I hear two people talking. I round the corner and I almost to the door when I hear, "Rachel, please. It's only for a few nights."

And then I realize it's Colton.

"Oh, shit," I say as I drop my bag. They both look over at me and Colton's face changes.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Andy."

I bend down and start trying to shove everything back into my bag quickly. I hear Rachel say, "What the fuck?"

"We just uh..." Colton trails off, staring at me. I brush the hair out of my face.

"You know what?" Rachel says. "Fuck you. Find somewhere else to stay." She slams the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Colton asks. I stare at him for a second too long, and it's almost like I'm remembering everything about him, like how green his eyes are and how there's a small dip in his bottom lip.

"I...uh, my friend's family owns the place. I'm just trying to make some money," I explain. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He shrugs. "I know Rachel, I guess."

I stare at him. "Wait, she's your ex? That bitch?" I ask. I sigh. "I guess it doesn't matter. What are you doing in New York?"

"I'm just getting my things," Colton tells me. He leans back against the wall.

I sigh. "Do you need somewhere to stay?" I ask, biting my lip. I probably shouldn't have asked that. If he said not to call him, I doubt he'd want to stay with me.

"I don't think Bryce would like that," Colton says, holding eye contact.

"Bryce is traveling," I tell Colton. "Do you need somewhere to stay?"

"I can find a hotel," he says.

"Colton." I take a step closer to him. "Don't be stupid. You can stay at my apartment."

"I don't want it to be awkward," Colton says.

"You kind of made it awkward the minute you said you were using me," I tell him. "But I'm not a dick like you, and a lot of really bad shit has happened and I don't want to be alone."

Colton's face softens. "Are you okay?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "What's going on?"

I shrug. "You don't have to pretend to be concerned about me. You made it very clear that you don't care about me," I remind him.

Colton sighs. "Friends can be concerned about each other," he says.

"So, you're saying we're friends?" I ask. Colton doesn't say anything. I sigh. "There was a shooting at an elementary school today. My best friend's son goes there, and he's like a nephew to me. And ten kids are dead and so many more are injured and it could have been Bobbe."

I feel a few tears fall and I wipe them away quickly. "I'm fine. He's okay," I tell Colton. "I'm just really fucking exhausted."

Colton just sighs and stares at me for a minute. And then he steps closer and for a second, I think he's going to kiss me, but he just pulls me closer to him and wraps his arms around my waist. My breath catches but I put my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. It almost feels like his lips are brushing my neck.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "That sounds awful."

I take a deep breath in and I feel more tears falling silently. "Thank you," I say quietly. I know I should pull away, but I don't. It feels so good to be held, and everything is so screwed up right now.

The door opens and I jump away from Colton. "Do you um, have all of your stuff?" I ask. "Or do you need to grab stuff?"

"I have what I need."

****************

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm letting Colton stay with me when I know it's going to end in a disaster. And he's acting like he never said all of that shit about us. But it feels so good to be around him, and it's almost like I can't seem to care about Bryce or if Colton really is using me.

"You can sleep on the couch," I tell Colton.

He smirks. "Where's your bedroom?"

"Down the hall," I say, and he's already walking towards it. "What are you doing?"

"You know, your bed looks really big," he tells me. I just stare at him and he smiles. "I'm kidding. Thanks for letting me stay over."

"Yeah." I look at him. "Bryce gets home on Friday morning, so you'll probably want to leave before then."

Colton looks at the bed again. "Are you telling him?"

I shrug. "I don't think it's important."

"So, it's a secret?" Colton asks.

I sigh. Is it? I know Bryce would go through the wall if he found out, and it's not like anything is going to happen. "Not really," I say. I look at Colton. "You owe me two things."

"Okay?" he says, leaning against the wall.

I just need to ask him and get it over with. "You need to tell me the truth," I start. "About all that shit you said. You need to be honest. You said that all you wanted was to use me, and that you didn't care about me, but I know there's more."

Colton sighs. "Andy," he says, and the way he says it sends a chill down my spine. "You don't want to know."

"Tell me," I say, my eyes searching his. "Just tell me."

"I can't," he says. "I don't want to hurt you."

I stare at him. "You already did."

Colton sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Maybe another day," he says. "In another life."

"Why can't you tell me?" I ask him. "I just want an answer."

"I'm not good for you," Colton tells me. "I don't want to ruin everything."

"Colton." I put my hand on his forearm and his eyes jump to mine. "My whole life is already in ruins, and it only makes sense when I'm with you."

"I know it seems like I'm hurting you," he says, after a minute, "but maybe you'll forgive me someday."

I look at my hand on his arm and I see my ring finger. "It's like we're never even going to start, but we're already ending when we should be beginning," I say. "I just...I want to be around you. And I feel like we keep getting pulled together."

"I know," he says quietly. He's staring at where my hand is touching his arm. "Maybe we can be friends."