When I saw you from across the room
I hoped you would stay there
And the first time we ever met
Wasn't much to remember
-This Isn't Love

• • •

Over the next few minutes, I analyzed, overanalyzed and reanalyzed everything that had happened, trying to pinpoint exactly where it had gone wrong.

Eventually, I decided it was the administration's fault.

If they hadn't put me in the wrong dorm, I never would've met Josh on that street and we never would've walked that path which meant we never would've ended up at that diner and I never would've found out who Zach was. I wouldn't have even needed alternate housing.

I couldn't help but wish I could go back in time and change one thing, anything. If I had stayed in my dorm last night, I still wouldn't know that Zach was.., well, Zach so I wouldn't be so torn about rooming with my best friend's enemy.

Or if I had just walked away from the conversation when I had the chance to instead of being such a curious cat, I could've avoided this headache.

Or better yet, if I had gone to class when Josh told me to, I wouldn't be nursing my third headache of the day.

I heaved a sigh.

Maybe he was joking and I just hadn't gotten the punchline.

"This is a prank, isn't it?"

I looked around suspiciously as though a cameraman would jump out and yell, "Gotcha!"

It did not happen.

"It's not." Zach shrugged and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

I tried not to compare it to how Josh looked doing the same thing.

I failed.

The infinitely fair part of me knew that they both pulled the move off but a greater part of me just so happened to be in love with Josh so I couldn't help but prefer Josh's.

"Did you hit your head while you were under the bleachers?" I proffered, tilting my head to the side as I looked him over for suspicious injuries.

"Very funny."

"I wasn't trying to be." I didn't care about the sarcasm. I was more worried about his health of mind and by extension, mine.  "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you in or not?"

I collapsed onto the bench.

It really was a lot to take in.

"Wow. This is really happening," I muttered under my breath, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Why is this happening to me?" I asked no one in particular, before glowering at the culprit. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?" His tone jumped straight from zero to full-on defensive. We really brought out the worst in each other. "Besides offering you a golden solution to your accommodation issue."

If it had been anyone else, literally anyone else on the planet, I would've been jumping for joy already.

Well, apart from one of Josh's exes, Mona. She absolutely hated me and the only reason she would ever offer to be my roommate was so she could murder me in my sleep.

"Precisely." I sighed. "You have no idea how much you just screwed with my life."

I knew it didn't make much sense to him but I understood what I meant perfectly. This was his fault. Thanks to him, I now had to figure out whether I wanted to keep slumming it at a male hostel or living with someone who literally gave me headaches. Someone my best friend despised more than the devil.

"So, is that a yes or no?" He inquired, impatiently tapping his foot.

The sound annoyed me. The scowl on his face annoyed me. His entire existence, as a matter of fact, infuriated me.

So I did what I always do when I'm irritated.

I kicked something.

Something was supposed to be air but he moved at the last second and my vans made contact with his knee. I watched, seemingly in slow motion as he flailed backwards, arms flapping, then crashed to the ground three feet below.

The reason he toppled like a bowling pin was because he was uncoordinated and definitely not because I kicked too hard. That's what I was telling myself anyway to relieve the guilt in my chest.

That and we were only four benches high. It wasn't such a big fall. He couldn't possibly be seriously injured.

If he was, I was a dead man.

My mother would epically murder me for hurting someone that bad. Not to mention, how was I, a girl who couldn't help even afford to pay rent, going to foot his medical bill?

On a second thought, he looked rich. Only a rich kid would let someone stay at theirs' for free. If he was, maybe he wouldn't make me pay his medical bills because with my luck, there was no way he wasn't in need of some of medical care.

Please be rich. Please be rich. Please, please, please.

I grabbed my bag and rushed down to meet him.

The looks people gave me as I descended made it clear they thought I purposely pushed him. I would've flipped them off if wasn't terrified one of them would call campus security to report the fall out of spite.

A girl I didn't know pushed her way through the crowd in a rush to get to Zach. She flashed me a glare, cradling his head against her chest as she helped him sit up.

His wince said it all; the fall hurt. A lot. 

I grimaced.

"What have you done?" The girl yelled, turning accusatory eyes to me.

And just like that, half my guilt disappeared. I rolled my eyes surreptitiously.

"Are you okay?" I asked, crouching next to them.

"What the hell?" It was more question than exclamation. The way he heaved the words showed just how much pain he was in.

My guilt returned, multiplied.

I wasn't great at dealing with my feelings. The fact that I was hiding my feelings from my best friend rather than coming clean and working through it was proof of that. It also explained why instead of apologizing and explaining that it was an accident, I turned it on him.

"Me? You were the idiot who jumped in front of my foot!" I was acutely aware of the small crowd that had gathered around us and were now shooting me accusatory looks as if they'd known Zach their entire lives.

"So it's my fault you pushed off me the bleachers and probably broke my arm?" He grimaced, managing to arch one eyebrow.

"Yes!" I unthinkingly replied.

It was palpable. The way the energy of the crowd turned hostile. Enough so that I felt unsafe. However, it was the look of utter disbelief on Zach's face, like he couldn't believe I was shirking the blame that got to me.

Ugh. Why did my mum raise me right? It wouldn't have killed her to be a little lax.

"No," I corrected. "What I'm saying is that it wasn't entirely my fault." I made my tone as soft as I could for  our attentive audience even though I was cursing every single one of them mentally.

"Really? So he pushed himself off?" The girl cradling him spat, her lips curled into a flattering snarl. I didn't think that was even possible.

Her skirt bunched up, barely covering her privates as she drew him even closer.

I drew in a deep breath and held my tongue.

He might have hit his head a little too hard in the fall because Zach seemed to be suppressing a smile at my reaction. Or it could be that he was trying to keep from crying out. I wasn't sure.

"Do you need any help?" I inquired reluctantly.

She helped him to his feet and I winced every time he did.

Slowly, muttering under their breaths, the crowd dispersed till it was just the three of us.

A part of me wondered if his friend could handle taking care of him and if she would have still been as sympathetic if he was a bit uglier but a bigger part of me was grateful I didn't have to take care of Zach. Hence, unwillingly to question her motives.

"Can you drive?" Zach's question pulled ne out of my musings.

"Sure. Why?" I answered carelessly, stupidly.

"I'm pretty sure my wrist is broken. I need you to drive me to the hospital," he answered, trying and failing to stay up without the human support his friend was offering.

"What?" We echoed simultaneously, gaping at the injured boy.

We paused, glancing away long enough to shoot each other unfriendly frowns before returning our attention to Zach.

"You're joking," I declared.

"Right?" She questioned, looking very much like her sanity depended on the correct answer. A 'yes'.

For once, I agreed with her.

"I need to get checked. You can drive." He tried to shrug but it must have been too painful because his face contorted into a pained mask.

Once again, guilt flared like gasoline high bushfire. Reluctantly, I reached out a hand.

"Keys?" I demanded, keeping my gaze trained on a spot above his head.