Sabina takes another cheese tart from the plate. "How was it?"

Mary Jane knows her roommate isn't talking about the exam she just finished for her three-thirty marketing management class, but still, she answers, "I'm going to fail."

Sabina rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic. You're not going to fail, you've been studying for that midterm for the past week. And you know I was asking about your trip to Worthington."

The ginger reaches for a cheese tart. Baked! has the best cheese tarts in town. "Worthington is...Worthington is still the same. She doesn't care about the people who leave her."

It took at least a three-hour drive going to Worthington from South Bend when Mary Jane left in the morning. Her heart told her that she needed to do this, but her head said that no, she didn't. Not anymore.

The problem wasn't just going back. The problem was going back with hope and then leaving without a shred of it.

And then the drive, as always, was nostalgic. She passed by those that she used to love in that city—Palette, the art bar where she used to buy her school stationery; Isaac's Cookers, the small pizza stall that ran along Ormewood Avenue; Snip Snip, the quaint spa washed in purples and pinks where she had her hair and makeup done for prom; and of course, her alma mater, Worthington Prep. Mary Jane slowed down outside its closed gates to stare at it as she smiled to herself—the school looked as pretentious as ever.

The old Chaucer mansion was gone. It was replaced with another branch of the Chaucer-Hyatt Suites. Mary Jane sped past the route leading to the hotel.

And then Station Twelve was still the same.

Nothing changed at all.

When she entered and was met with the strange sense of familiarity—of home, there was a slight sting that pierced through her chest.

A year ago, the pain was a little harsher.

There was music that echoed across the small restaurant, but Mary Jane couldn't recognize the song. There were close to no people around—only an elderly couple seated at the far end. Fallon was behind the counter once again, and she raised her hand in greeting to Mary Jane. Mary Jane waved back with a small smile and headed towards her, picking up a menu as she settled on a stool.

"Why bother looking at the menu when you know what you're going to order?" the high school student asked, raising her eyebrow. "What kind of coffee is it today?"

Mary Jane shrugged. "I don't know. It's just habit, I guess. And the kind that's extra strong, I'm driving back after I eat."

Fallon clicked her tongue as she punched in her order. "Stop doing this to yourself, MJ."

Tiredly, she grinned. "Don't worry about me. Where's Naomi?"

When the owner emerged from the kitchen with slumped shoulders, Mary Jane's heart dropped just a little. Still, foolishly, she needed to ask, "Still nothing?"

Naomi looked at her with sad eyes and said, "He hasn't come back."

Mary Jane nodded. "Figured as much."

"Stop doing this to yourself," Naomi said, echoing Fallon's words. "We need to stop doing this to ourselves, kid. He's not coming back."

Mary Jane said nothing in reply and ordered scrambled eggs. When she was finished, it was already eleven in the morning.

"You don't know what happened to him," Sabina says, pulling Mary Jane back to the present. Andy's still working the cashier, and she looks tired. Still, she greets the next customer with a bright smile. "Maybe he didn't leave at all. Maybe he's still there and he just..."

"He was struggling," Mary Jane murmurs. Her fingers fiddle with the pastry wrapper—damn, those cheese tarts are really something else. "Maybe he was just as sick as I was. Maybe I just...didn't get to help him the way he helped me."

Sabina shuffles forward on her seat and snatches the wrapper from Mary Jane's hands. "Okay, what you're not going to do is blame yourself for this. Whatever happened to him happened. You've been trying to find this guy for two years, MJ. Has he ever tried to find you?"

The younger narrows her eyes. "Just the other night you were telling me I was delusional because I wanted to give up."

"But the other night, you also had the best dicking of your life."

Mary Jane makes a noise in between a whine and a squeak. She looks around the bakeshop to see if anyone heard her crass roommate, but thankfully, everyone just seemed to have been minding their own business. "Don't call it like that, shut up."

The model takes the last of the pastries with a smirk on her lips. "I call it as it is, honey. I'm actually proud of you. All I'm saying is—you can tone it down a little bit. This guy, Seth, whatever his name is, he may have helped you. But he's never tried to find you. Maybe he just doesn't want to be found, either."

Mary Jane hates that she sees Sabina's point.

"So, might as well text your boy."

"He's not my boy."

"He could be."

Andy puts down two boxes of sweets on the table before plopping down on the seat next to Mary Jane with a heavy exhale. Her apron's off, and written on her face is an undeniable expression of exhaustion. She reaches behind her head to take off the tie holding her hair in a braid. The brown curls fall on her bare shoulders. "Who's not your boy?"

Mary Jane crosses her arms and huffs. "I can tell you who's not your boy. Luke."

Sabina snickers. "Ain't that the truth."

Andy flushes. The tips of her ears turn pink. Embarrassed, she clears her throat. "Leave Luke alone."

"We will when he stops being shitty and finally makes a move," the eldest counters with a tightness to her voice, tapping her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "You're coming over to his place, right? What the hell do you guys even do? And why doesn't he pick you up? His place is way farther from campus than yours is, the boy acts like he doesn't go to Pendleton with us—"

"I have roommates," Andy answers meekly, hanging her head, shoulders slumping. Mary Jane kind of feels bad for bringing him up in Sabina's presence. The girl has way too many things to say about him, and none of them are nice. Andy is always on the receiving end of her remarks, and the youngest of the group can barely handle insults towards herself. She gets more upset with insults directed towards others, even if they are shitty. "And he says gas is expensive...and we watch movies and sometimes I help with his homework..."

Sabina cocks her head. Mary Jane sends her a sharp look—a silent plea to stop. Andy's voice dropped down to a mumble, and she's staring down at her lap. Sabina holds Mary Jane's stare for a few seconds before she finally sighs. "We'll drop you off. I'll drive."

The youngest looks up. Her lips pull up to a small smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really, you brat."

"Thanks, Sab." It's quiet. Grateful.

"Give me one of those boxes of your sweets and Mary Jane and I will take turns driving you every time you need to go there."

Mary Jane can't even argue.

Andy hesitates. Looks at the boxes on the table. "Um, those are both for Luke and his roommate..."

"He has a roommate?" Mary Jane asks. As far as she and Sabina knows, the guy Andy's...sort of dating lives alone.

"For the time being," Andy answers. "He's staying until he finds a new place, I think."

Sabina hums thoughtfully. "A box of cheese tarts, then."

"Deal!" the youngest chirps.

"Deal," Sabina agrees. She then directs her attention to Mary Jane and smiles. It's turned sickly sweet, and Mary Jane wants to swipe it off her face. "Back to our little orange head—"

"I am not an orange head." It's strawberry blonde!

"You call yourself a ginger," Andy deadpans, glancing at her innocently.

"That's—strawberry blondes are a part of the ginger family! Or redhead family, whatever, all redheads, whether they're auburn, orange, or strawberry blonde, we all have variants in the same gene called—"

"MC1R, we know," the dark-skinned beauty says with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. Andy chuckles and gives her a high-five. "It's so funny how riled up you get about that."

Mary Jane huffs again and kicks the table like a child. "It's strawberry blonde," she mutters again.

Her roommates ignore her. "Basically," Sabina tells Andy, "our little orange head was dicked down so good last Saturday night that she came home sore."

Mary Jane groans and rubs her forehead. "You're so fucking vulgar."

"You're not denying the good dicking."

"Fuck you, I already told you it was—"

"Oh," Andy cuts in softly, rubbing her chin. "I thought you said it was because you went to the gym for the first again in months."

Sabina scoffs. "Please. MJ barely has time to go there anymore."

Andy wrinkles her nose. "I didn't know you could get sore. Where are you sore? Is it the whole body?"

The eldest throws her head back and laughs boisterously. Mary Jane shakes her head and stands, shouldering her bag. "No, no, I am not talking about this with you. Come on, you have a not-so-boyfriend to visit."

"But I wanna know," she whines, jutting her bottom lip out as she and Sabina stand as well. The latter is still laughing as she walks ahead towards the exit of the bakeshop. Mary Jane wishes she trips in those ridiculously high heels she's wearing—but not enough to injure her, no, the girl still has a shoot lined up after the last one, the one that turned out to be a fiasco because the photographer was an ass. "It hurts during...and then it hurts after? Still? Why?"

Oh, the innocence this child holds. "You'll know when you get there, bub."

Andy sighs. "Fine," she mumbles in resignation.

In Sabina's Mustang, the youngest rides shotgun and Mary Jane settles herself in the back seat. Sabina turns up the radio and an old pop song comes blasting through the speakers. While her roommates sing along with messed-up lyrics and off-key tunes, Mary Jane takes out her phone and reads through her messages.

There are a few from the guys in her classes. She rolls her eyes and skips them.

There's one from her father. She's supposed to come to the Chaucer-Hyatt Suites tomorrow after her classes to attend to business matters with him. Mary Jane sighs and replies with a simple affirmative.

Nothing else. Mary Jane drags her thumb across the screen mindlessly before she pulls up her contacts.

His number is still there. It's saved as a bunch of silly emojis, and it makes her smile.

Mary Jane leans her head back and closes her eyes.

The morning after that night in the club, and then his place after, wasn't so bad. She woke up in his bed with her head fuzzy and body incredibly sore. She stood up, put her clothes and shoes on, and tried to leave with as less noise as possible. Unfortunately, because she tripped on his shoes on the way to the door, he woke up, laughed at her, and made them breakfast. Then he gave her his number and told her to text him, then called a taxi for her.

Mary Jane remembers thinking that he had a nice smile.

The ride lasts only ten minutes. Andy jumps off the car with a bright smile and heads inside Luke's apartment. Mary Jane moves to the passenger seat.

"Let's run to the grocery store," Sabina pipes up, reversing the car. Her fingers tap the steering wheel in time with the music's beat. "We're out of apple juice, bread, and peanut butter."

"You're paying," Mary Jane counters. "I used my money for gas this morning."

"Fine," the elder huffs, shifting the gear stick back into drive. "But don't think I didn't see you on your phone back there—text him, bitch. Or else I'm really going to deck you."

She does, eventually, in the safety of their room that night. Sabina went out with her friends, and Andy was staying the night at Luke's. Hi.

His reply comes a few minutes later: Is this the gorgeous redhead? :)

Mary Jane rolls her eyes. I could've been someone else, you know.

Ah, I don't give my number to random people, babe. :) Also, I was waiting for you to text me. Does it normally take you this long to text the people you hook up with?

I didn't know I had a deadline. Missed me?

Maybe. What's up?

Mary Jane turns over on her side and hugs the blanket to her chest. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she thinks of a response. Are you free?

Mine or yours?

Her lips curve into a smile. Mine. Roommates aren't home and RA doesn't mind if I sneak you in.

His reply was instant. Text me the address, beautiful.