Andy can't do this.

"You can do this," Sabina says, obviously trying to keep from smiling. Her eyes stay on the road, but her hand clamps down on the younger's thigh to squeeze it comfortingly. "Stop panicking, Andy."

She can't. She can't do this. Why is she doing this?

She likes Luke, right?

"No, you don't like Luke anymore," Sabina tells her firmly, as if reading her mind. "He treated you like shit for the past few months, Andy, we've been over this. He doesn't reply to your texts, he doesn't make an effort to try and see you, he demands you to come over because he has homework you aren't supposed to do and because his car is out of gas."

Andy didn't see it at first...but Sabina and MJ were right. And it hurt, yes—she's been crushing on him for a few weeks, beginning with a simple smile and a favor to borrow her notes in the lone class they shared last semester. She'd noticed him before that, but thought nothing more of it than simple eye candy, and went about her day. But when he suddenly approached her after class, Andy was nothing but a blushing mess as she fumbled for her notes—even though she needed them to study.

And then he asked her for help again, and again, and again, until Andy was spending most of her time and money commuting to and from Luke's place, completing his homework even for his other classes, and filling his car's gas with her own money.

Andy knows he has a way with words. It's why she stayed.

That's okay, she'd tell herself. That's who Luke is. I like him.

Until there was no jump in her heart rate when she met up with him. When she first started seeing Luke, her pulse was crazy, and her cheeks were always a faded shade of pink that felt hot down to the curve of her neck.

And then suddenly, there was nothing. Just exhaustion.

"You're right," Andy says quietly, gripping the box of pastries on her lap. "I need to do this."

"That's the spirit," Sabina cheers, grinning now. She pulls up at the driveway. "Alright, kid. I still don't know why you're giving the dipshit a breakup gift when there's nothing to break up about."

Andy pouts at the box of cheese tarts she created herself. "Luke is a good person. We're just not right for each other."

Sabina rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything to argue anymore. "You're taking the bus home, right? Are you sure you don't need me to wait for you?"

"It's fine, we're going to talk," Andy answers, jumping out of the car, careful with the pastries. "Thanks, Sab. You're the best."

She waves. "I'm telling MJ. Bye."

As soon as she's gone, Andy turns around and takes a deep breath, pressing a palm to her chest.

Her heartbeat is quick from nervousness, and there's sweat running along the insides of her palms. She takes a deep breath, even when she hears her pulse pounding against her ear.

At his door, Andy rings the doorbell and shuffles on her feet, fiddling with the box's ribbon.

Luke answers the door a few minutes later. His hair is disheveled, as if he had just gotten out of bed, and his eyes are disinterested as he stares at her. "What?" he asks flatly.

Andy swallows hard. "Can we talk?"

"Say it here," he says impatiently, leaning against the doorway.

She blinks. He's been this way countless times before, but...she expected him to at least look like he cared about what she was going to say.

He doesn't care. Andy sighs. "I don't want to date you anymore."

Luke shrugs and steps back. "Fine."

Andy's eyes widen, reaching forward to thrust the box into his direction—or to keep him from going back inside without as much as another word. "Wait—!"

But he shut the door already. Locked it, even.

Andy stares at the wooden surface until she feels the tears brimming around her eyes. She thought that Luke would at least hear her out—to talk to her.

She should've asked Sabina to wait. That didn't take more than five minutes.

The humiliation burns in her chest as she drops her head and slowly goes down the stairs. There are tears staining her cheeks, and she hates that she's crying.

She tells herself to breathe as she steps outside, feeling the cool air kiss her skin. Andy wipes her face with the back of her hand. When she looks up, a pair of blazing eyes are staring at her. "Oh, jeepers," she whispers.

It's Luke's roommate.

He's leaning against the wall, and there's a lighted cigarette hanging in between his fingertips.

"Hello," Andy says quietly. Out of politeness.

They don't know each other—he's never spoken to her before. Luke has never introduced him to Andy, and she only caught glimpses of him leaving his room to grab a drink whenever she was over. She tried to strike up a conversation with him once, when she caught him heading to the kitchen, and Andy jumped from her seat to follow him. But he ignored her—didn't even give her a glance. He brushed past her and left.

She also brought a box of cheese tarts for him once. Luke said he'd give it to his roommate when he came home, but Andy wasn't sure if he'd actually received it.

It doesn't matter.

He doesn't say anything in reply, and Andy looks at him. It's the first time she's seen his face.

He's beautiful. Everything about him is sharp—from the chin, to the cheekbones, and nose, and the slope of his jaw; even the blazing in his dark eyes—but beautiful, still, and intimidating. His ears are donned with lobe and helix piercings—silver rings that Andy has never found attractive before, his skin is a pale white, and his hair is a mess, the color of midnight.

"That thing will kill you, you know," Andy tries again, managing a small smile as she points at the stick in his hand.

It's clear he doesn't care, but he doesn't tear his gaze away.

It makes her feel small. She's afraid of that stare, but she tries to hold it.

Andy steps forward and clears her throat, stretching out her arm. "Here. Have you tried them before?"

Finally, his eyes shift to the little box she's offering him.

Andy's sure he notices the way her hands shake.

She's about to pull away, to mumble a quick apology and turn on her heel and leave, when, to her utter surprise and shock, Luke's roommate takes the pastries.

It's not a harsh tug, but it's not a gentle one, either.

His eyes return to hers.

Andy blinks. "Oh. Cool. I hope you enjoy them. I made them myself!" There's a genuine smile that paints her face when she says that last part—baking is one of the few things she knows she's good at, and her sweets always make people happy.

He still doesn't say anything. Only places the cigarette into his mouth and inhales for a few seconds, keeping his gaze locked with hers.

When he blows the smoke out, he turns his head away from her.

Still, Andy covers the lower part of her face as she scrunches her nose. An idea pops into her head, and her hand reaches inside her small shoulder bag.

Luke's roommate places the cigarette back in between his lips as he watches her rummage through her things. His face is still blank, but she knows he's curious.

Grinning triumphantly, she takes out the little stick and begins to unwrap it.

She pockets the wrapper when she's done, and pushing up on her tiptoes, grabs the cigarette from his mouth and replaces it with a lollipop. "That's better."

Andy had only a few seconds to register the look of surprise on his face as his jaw turns slack, and then she's turning around to leave.

Only to bump into something warm and hot—a hand.

A hand over her forehead that prevented her from slamming into the metal pole behind her.

She only realizes she closed her eyes when she opens them. Complete mortification fills her face.

Andy runs.

She runs until she can't see Luke's apartment anymore—or his roommate, and runs until she feels her cheeks redden from sweat rather than humiliation and embarrassment.

The cigarette lay between her fingers—the light out. She huffs, grinds it with her foot to dispose of the ash, and throws it in the bin.

In the bus going home, she swears she heard him laugh beyond the sound of the wind and her own racing heartbeat.

*

Baked! is busy today—busier than it has been in weeks.

Andy is grateful. She's given more work to do, and the distraction of working gives her the push to throw away any thoughts of Luke (and his roommate) out of her mind.

He hasn't texted since that night. It's been a week.

Andy takes order after order at the counter. She's tired, but she keeps her lips curved into a smile as she greets every customer entering the shop. A quick peek at the clock hanging on the opposite wall tells her she has about an hour left of her shift before she can go home and start on her homework.

Her fingers resist the urge to check her phone once again. She knows Luke is never going to text her—he doesn't care—but it doesn't stop her from hoping he'd reach out.

The door chimes, and Andy raises her head to greet the customer, but the words get stuck in her throat when Luke's roommate steps inside.

He's tall. At least a whole head taller than her, and he's in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His eyes are immediately drawn to her as soon as he enters.

Andy hears her sharp intake of breath louder than the bustling of the bakeshop.

He walks slowly, but his strides are large and confident, and when he reaches the register, Andy can't find the words to say.

Hello, her mind says. Say hello, what can I get you?

"He—"

But she hears his voice first.

"One box of cheese tarts," he says, cutting her off.

Andy's eyes are wide and blinking. It's deep—it's deep, and raspy, and rich.

She swallows the lump in her throat. She's nervous—why is she nervous? "You liked them," she manages to say, feeling something spreading through her chest. Happy. She's happy.

And then it's gone as quickly as it came. "My stash ran out," he answers, in the same low drawl of his, and there's no expression on his face that Andy can read.

Andy blinks again. "What do you mean?"

"He throws them away. I eat them. You broke up. No more boxes."

There's a sting that pierces her body, but she ignores that and focuses on the rising anger bubbling up inside of her. "Why do you eat them? They're for Luke!"

He's rude. And he knows it. Just as his mouth curves upwards. "One box of cheese tarts."

Andy remembers she's at work and swallows it down. She turns around. "I—okay. I'm sorry for snapping."

She doesn't see the look on his face. Her hands shake as she hurries to bring out a box, and tries to keep her voice even and her eyes downwards when she tells him the price.

Luke's roommate hands over the money, and their hands brush against each other.

Andy pulls back as if she's been electrocuted.

She doesn't know what the look on his face is, doesn't try to, keeps her gaze on the table, but it seems as if he hesitated before leaving.

When he finally does, Andy releases a breath she'd been holding and puts her hand on her knees, wanting to slap herself for feeling so bad—so insignificant about a small thing.

If Sabina and MJ notice that she's feeling a little bit under the weather later that evening, they don't say anything, and she's grateful.

She doesn't want to see Luke's roommate ever again, or hear his voice, but it seems as if life had further plans to humiliate her.

After class the next day, on the way to Baked!, she sees him again, leaning against a black Jeep Wrangler, an unlit cigarette falling loosely on his lips. His eyes are cast downwards, but when Andy steps forward, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he raises his head.

And he still looks beautiful.

Andy doesn't approach him like she normally would after two encounters with an acquaintance. She takes another step and turns right. There's another exit—and it's a little farther going to work, but that's fine.

Unfortunately, she doesn't get very far, even as she quickens her steps. A hand curls around her wrist. "Running away, sunshine?"

His voice sends a shock through her body. She lightly takes her arm away. "Hello."

He lets go, and takes the unlit cigarette off his mouth. "Always so polite."

Andy doesn't know what to say, so she asks, "What are you doing here? Are you a student?"

He doesn't answer her question. "I was a dick yesterday," he says, staring at her. "But I'm not going to apologize about the cheese tarts."

Reconsider what you define as an apology, Andy almost murmurs. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and says, "I'm glad you liked the cheese tarts. Bye."

"We're not done," he drawls out, blocking her way before she could even take another step. "Your ex is a piece of shit."

"May I be rude for a second?"

There's a gleam of amusement that lit his eyes, but his face doesn't change.

"For someone who wouldn't talk that night we met, you sure have a lot to say," Andy blurts out.

His eyebrow rose.

"Sorry," she says immediately, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have said that."

"You annoyed the shit out of me," he says, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. "The minute I saw you crying."

"Me?" Andy says, pointing a finger at herself. "How—we've never even spoken before a few nights ago! How did that annoy you? And how is my relationship any of your business?"

"That wasn't a relationship," he says, scoffing. "But sure, you're right, it isn't. I just wanted to apologize. Felt like I made you cry. Wouldn't be surprised if you did."

She did, but this guy doesn't need to know that. "I'm fine. You're fine. We're fine. Thank you for apologizing. I have work."

Andy turns to leave.

"It's Rhys."

She turns back around. "What?"

"My name," Luke's roommate says, walking a few steps backward. "It's Rhysand. I'll see you around, sunshine."