I woke to an irritating buzzing against my side.

I'd fallen asleep with my phone buried in the covers of Michael's bed, and at some point in the night it had gotten wedged right into the soft skin between my rib and hip.

I reached over clumsily, grasping it, my other arm raising to scrub my tired eyes. Too bright. It was too bright to be morning. That must mean-

"Shit!" I hissed. "Not again. Fuck, fuck fuck."

"Morning," Michael murmured as I was sitting up. His voice came out much huskier than I'd been prepared for and I almost lost focus of my current objective: finding a charger for my phone, which was currently at a whopping 8%.

"I'm late," I yelled at him. "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late again. Oh my god, I'm literally gonna get kicked out. Holy shit."

"What are you, the white rabbit?"

I ignored him and bounded across the room to the tangle of wires beneath my mini desk. Yesterday afternoon, I'd convinced Rhoda to accompany me to finally check out a campus laptop - a task she hadn't been fond of, as it involved venturing into the Land of the Nerds.

I tore the cord charging it from the outlet and replaced it with the one for my phone, then hastily jogged into the bathroom. With Michael's big green sweatshirt on, I looked even smaller than usual. But for the first time ever, it didn't make me feel bad.

I was hot.

Just not in the way I'd spent my whole life wanting.

The shuffling sound of him plodding over cut short my self-appreciation, and I scowled as he yawned deeply in the base of his throat and leaned on the wall for balance.

"Go away," I said.

"I gotta take a piss."

I rolled my eyes and pulled the hoodie over my head to drop on the ground. "Fine. Make it quick."

He smirked at me as he lifted the toilet seat. "Did you know when you run around your dick goes like this. Du-du-du." He made a swaying motion with his index finger.

"Don't look at my dick, weirdo." Yet as I spoke the words my gaze traveled downward, a subconscious reaction to the topic. His was standing straight up.

Thus commenced the next awkward sixty seconds of me, naked, waiting for the shower to heat up and Michael, also naked, engaging in a comical lunge over the toilet to relieve himself.

"So," I said, my eyes glued to the shower wall. "Got any plans for today?"

"Mm, might try to make it to class. Gotta hit the gym. Wanna come? We could recreate our first kiss."

I cringed and shook my head in disgust.

"I was watching these workout videos yesterday? The guy was so fucking shredded, man. And he had his girl and was doing curls with her as a weight and, like, squats with her on his back." He stopped suddenly and whirled around. "We should have a pushup contest."

"No," I said. I would lose.

"Come on, it'd be fun." He hopped up and down.

"I have to go to class," I told him, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. I left the shower running and got out, careful to avoid bumping him.

"Hold on," he said, and I flinched away before we could come into contact. "At least eat some breakfast, okay? I'm kinda worried about you dying."

I slammed the sliding door shut with a particularly sardonic smile. "Thanks."

He pumped out a dollop of shampoo and raised his arms to start scrubbing it through his hair, making his rippling abs and sharp V-line stand out further from the pose. "We could go somewhere. Get one of those veggie egg burritos or something."

As he spoke I glanced at him with fleeting eyes, trying to keep my mind in a clean place. I was, by now, pretty familiar with seeing his body - and the sight certainly wasn't getting old - but it represented everything dark in my mind. The jealousy, the lust, the thrill of being repulsed by my own thoughts, the desires to do the things I had sworn not to-

"You're staring again," he observed slyly.

I let out an angry sigh and dried myself haphazardly with a crusty towel lying crumpled in the sink.

"It makes sense," he said. "I am often mesmerized by my own beauty..."

With an eye roll I left to get dressed from the pickings of my clothes pile. Michael was right; I had to do laundry soon. Which made me think of Sarah. It was getting to be about the time we would normally meet for lunch.

"Change of plans," I called into the bathroom. "I'm gonna try to get Sarah back."

"I don't know, man." I paused to listen, scowling at the socks I was attempting to force on. "Sometimes it's better to just let people go."

"You're one to talk, you're still friends with your crazy ex," I snapped.

Ninety percent of the time, Sarah did nothing but annoy me. But I knew I was lucky to have had her companionship for so long. And if she could put up with me being an emotionally draining dud, I should be able to put up with her nagging and ranting.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" I asked.

"Sure."

I smiled and skipped over to his drawer. Perhaps this was how Sarah felt during her thrifting phase, where every Sunday for three months she would force Andrea to drive her out to a different Goodwill.

The top shirt was a faded navy blue and read NBA - Natural Born Alcoholics with the NBA logo guy holding a beer instead of a basketball. Stupid. I put it on anyway.

I peeked into the bathroom before I left, where Michael stood before the sink, the same disgusting towel I'd used now tied around his waist, a light coat of shaving cream spread over the lower half of his face. "Maybe I need to shave," I mused, running my fingers over my jaw.

"Hmm." He squinted, pretending to consider. "Nah." I glowered at him and leaned back, my grouch face staying on as he physically slid me forward with one arm on my waist and gave the side of my mouth a wet kiss. "Have a good day."

I sniffed and wiped my cheek with my pinky where a spot of shaving cream had smudged. "Mhm."

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It was nerve-racking, being alone in the cafeteria.

I bought myself a bag of Doritos from the vending machine to look busy as I scanned the room for her. There were people with pink hair, neon yellow hair, even one dude with a half-red, half-white mohawk. I didn't see any blue hair.

And then, out the window, a girl sitting alone caught my eye. There was only one problem.

For the first time since eighth grade, Sarah didn't have blue hair.

It was now a shimmering purple, cut short to her jaw and styled in tight waves. She kept her eyes down on her phone, as if she was in her own little world and unaware of everyone around her.

It was out of character for her; usually she was looking at everything and pointing out random people to me to laugh at.

My teeth dug into the inside of my cheek. C'mon, Ben, you've walked up to her more times than anyone else, just do it.

I felt my palms start clamming up, and I almost lost my grip on the Doritos. I forced my feet to carry me to the exit door, unthinking, like my brain was a parasite controlling my body remotely.

I stopped beside her, and when she didn't look up, I wondered if she really didn't notice me or she was doing it purposely. I hesitated, then tossed my chips onto the metal table.

She jumped. Her pale lips dropped open for a split second, and then her eyes darkened in recognition and she began hurriedly gathering up her things.

"Sarah-" I started.

"I don't wanna talk to you."

"Sarah, just slow down," I said, jumping in front of her. "Sit down. Let's talk. Like adults."

She whipped her head around and met my eyes, burning me with her stare. "Is that even possible for you?"

"Yes," I said calmly, though I conceded privately I was still working on that.

"Just so you know, I've been doing so much self-improvement lately," Sarah told me. "Did you see my hair? I cut it. I, like, really cut it, because it's time. You know? You know when it's time? To just-" She made a snipping motion with her hand. "Start over."

"I liked the blue," I said.

"I've also been listening to a lot of Kelly Clarkson. Catch My Breath, Stronger, Mr. Know It All." She blinked. "Since U Been Gone."

I sighed and pressed two fingers against my temple. "We didn't have a breakup, Sarah."

"It felt like one!" she retorted, her beaded bracelets crashing against the table. More than a few heads turned our way. We both stared at them, then each other, and then she glided uncomfortably back into her seat. "Why do you even wanna talk?"

I sat across from her. "We had a disagreement. Fine, an argument. How long are we going to go not speaking to each other?"

"I miss us, like, actually having fun," she said. "You're the biggest mood killer I've ever met. What do you even think about all day? Or is your mind just as blank as your face every time I try to speak to you?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Are you serious? You get to drag me to stupid parties so you can make all these friends, but the second I go out on my own it's some huge betrayal. You think I had fun there? I just walked around while you got wasted and ended up in a fucking car accident."

"What?"

I took a deep breath and tried to still my rage. So much for civil conversation. "Yeah, the impala got rammed."

She bit the corner of her lips as they formed a laughing frown. "Not Pookie."

"Its name is not Pookie."

"Yes it is. You let me pick." She smiled, then blinked away like she'd caught herself slipping. "Listen, Ben, I just feel like... sometimes... you make it really hard to be your friend."

My heart sank a little. She was right. She was so, so right. And if even Sarah didn't want to deal with me anymore, why would anyone else? Was I just punishing everyone around me with my presence?

"I have class in ten minutes," she told me. "I'm gonna go upstairs and get my stuff." She folded her arms across her chest reluctantly. "I guess we could walk and talk."

I debated whether to take the Doritos as she held the door behind her. I had spent my good money on them.

"Oh my god, ew!" she shouted as I stood. "Where did you get that hideous shirt?"

I looked down. "Uh... I... bought it."

She scoffed. "No way. You hate sports and you hate-" She tossed her hand up. "Beer. I literally know every single shirt you own and you do not own that shirt."

"Okay, let's pretend that's not totally fucking creepy - don't you think you should stay friends with the guy you have the entire wardrobe of memorized?"

She lapsed into a long, sulking silence. "Probably."

Upon entering the B Building dorm, I was once again reminded of the nice, non-life-threatening stairs they were blessed with. I bet the elevator was in working order as well.

Maria was in the girls' dorm room, sitting cross-legged on her bed, her tiger brows crimped in deep concentration as she flicked her eyes back-and-forth from an open textbook, jotting down notes.

"'Sup?" Sarah greeted before tossing her bag down at the foot of her own bed and lifting two folders to stuff inside.

"Hi," I said, after a moment of silence, in an attempt to be friendly. Maybe it came off as too peppy. Or maybe she didn't even notice. I could never tell how many of my worries were purely overthinking and how many were justified.

Maria looked up, surveying me within a second. "Hey."

Great, what do I say now? Why am I so horrible at talking to people? "What are you doing?" I asked, my hands leisurely swinging behind me.

If she hadn't seemed annoyed before, she certainly did now. "Homework. Zielinski gave us twenty-two pages to read."

"I hear he's a dick," Sarah said as she zipped up the bag again. She'd taken off her jacket so she wore only a macaroon tank top, then moved to her dresser and dug through a few shirts. "I have to look cute. Help."

Maria yawned, then flipped back a few pages in her notebook to a partial sketch of a grassy meadow. I imagined it to be the kind of thing Heather would draw. I wondered if Maria would like Heather.

"That's nice," I said.

In return I received the most blatant stop-talking-to-me stare of my life.

"I need mascara," Sarah announced. I looked over, waiting until she'd rushed to the bathroom to amble over and sit down next to Maria.

"So, whatever, uh, whatever happened with... Alicia?" I said, keeping my voice low.

She was quiet for a moment, eyes on her paper again as she began shading the sky to form wisps of cloud. "Um," she murmured slowly. "Why are you asking?"

"I just-" I stopped, suddenly panicked. It was, after all, absolutely none of my business. I probably sounded like a creep. "I guess I just wanted to know if it, like, worked out."

She sniffed a little and fiddled with her pencil, tapping it against the page. "Nah, she... I don't mean anything to her. She just wanted to try something and I'm..." She gave a tiny, bitter chuckle. "I'm the girl for that, right?"

An ache had formed in my chest, sympathy and an odd hopelessness. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Why, do you talk to her?"

I frowned. "No."

A dry smile crept onto her lips. "Weren't you gonna be her date at that party?"

"Uh, no," I said. "That was all Sarah's idea. She's kinda, I don't know. Obsessed with picking girls for me."

Maria's brow furrowed. "That's weird, dude."

I nodded while she shifted her position to lower her feet to the floor. She had on pajama bottoms with little moose on them. It was kinda cute.

A loud clattering and a shriek came from the bathroom, and then Sarah came rushing out, a smear of lipgloss across her mouth and eyelashes sporting clumps of black.

She ignored me, busy staring down at her phone with a huge grin. She started giggling and bouncing on her toes as she typed something, then whirled around and stared at us, as if waiting for an invitation to share.

I swallowed painfully. "What is it?"

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you. I..." She took a huge breath and tilted her eyes to the ceiling. "Carter is in my next class." She broke off to let out a loud scream. "I'm basically in love with him, just so you know." She started dancing in a circle in the middle of the room.

Maria looked mildly amused. My heart sank. "Sarah, don't," I said. "This guy is just another fuckboy. He was out banging Amy and probably like fifty other girls last weekend."

A bitter scowl darkened Sarah's face. "Why are you being so negative? Are you just jealous that I like someone and you just sit home alone every night? Is that what it is?"

"Fine," I sighed, raising my hands. "Forget I said anything."

"It's probably just a rumor!" she shouted. "Where'd you even hear that?"

I blinked, thinking of the fit Sarah would throw if she ever found out what had gone down between Amy and me. "Doesn't matter."

"Exactly, so you don't even know. Just let me do this!"

"Whatever," I muttered, scooting back to pull my own phone from my pocket.

Maria peered over her shoulder. "Don't lie in my bed."

I mumbled wordlessly and turned onto my side, bending my legs as I scrolled through my notifications. Maria's mechanical pencil stabbed into my back. "Ow!" I shouted. "That's my kidney!"

"Out," she ordered.

I groaned and marched across the room to Sarah, who was smiling at her phone again, her quarrel with me forgotten. "Don't you have class?" I said.

"One second. I'm asking Carter if it's true."

I kept chewing on a flap of broken skin from my lip, then opened Instagram. Amy still hadn't followed me back. I went on her page and liked her most recent picture as a reminder.

Additionally on my feed was Sarah, who had uploaded three separate posts to show off her purple hair, and Rhoda, lying on a silky duvet in a red wrap dress that accentuated her hourglass waist. The tip of her tongue was curled to graze her top lip.

I instantly frowned as I saw the preview of comments. Someone named Kevin C had written dayummmm mama 🤤 dm me

Against better judgment, I tapped on his name and was met with a profile of shirtless mirror selfies. Square, gleaming chest. A line of dark hair from his protruding navel, dipping into Adidas joggers. I swiped back as soon as the sight registered in my brain, and was once again looking at Rhoda and her lavish curves.

I stiffened when Sarah's eyes caught mine, a hollow, vacant stare that made no effort to shift away even when I did, first to the door, then down at my screen to quickly scroll away from the picture. She remained as she was, dispirited and static, cold as the tendrils of ice creeping between us.