Luckily, I only walked in on them having sex in our room once. One time is more than enough to scar a person, though. Imagine coming home after a particularly long day of hating a stupid boy in a stupid Red Sox cap, and there’s Xavier, all glistening and sweaty and abs, mid-thrusting as Benny moans like a banshee.

Some images—and sounds—never leave the mind.

Benny and Xavier have, however, called a “fashion-tervention” for open mic night. I wish this were a nightmare, but it’s real life. Because apparently, my super cute graphic tees with cartoon characters don’t scream “Fuck me!”

It doesn’t matter that I’ve told both of them I’m not trying to wear anything that would scream “Fuck me!”

“You need to send a message,” Xavier says, holding up a black turtleneck.

“What’s that?” I ask. “That I have horrible taste in clothes and hate my own neck? Or that I’m a beat poet from the 1960s?”

“She is feisty,” Xavier says.

“She’s always feisty, ever since Jack pulled a Gone Girl,” Benny says.

“What?” I ask.

“Gone Girl? Ben Affleck? Based on the bestselling novel of the same name?” Benny says. “I literally can’t even be your friend right now. Neil Patrick Harris peen!”

Xavier looks at me, concerned. We’ve learned Benny has a tendency to just scream random things sometimes, so neither of us is sure if NPH peen is connected to Gone Girl, but Benny doesn’t wait for us to figure it out.

“Whatever. Basically, Chase has been a moody binch for weeks,” he says.

I grind my teeth. “Sorry, I know I’ve been awful.”

“Leave ’em alone, Ben,” Xavier says. “Jack really tore ’em up. Have some compassion.” X tosses the shirt at me. “You want to be incognito tonight, right? That’ll make you blend into the background.”

“Now all I need is a beret,” I say. “And circular sunglasses.”

Xavier’s eyes light up. “I have—if you want.”

I close my eyes. “This is a bad idea, guys. Seriously bad. Epically bad.”

“Why do you think that?” Xavier asks.

“Because he clearly doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I’m basically chasing him down. Stalking him. It doesn’t feel right.”

Xavier sits down on the bed next to me and wraps his arm around me. “How about this? Let’s just act like we’re going for dinner at the Hole, and we’ll sit far away, and it’ll be like we’re not there for him at all.”

“Maybe we can just do a drive-by,” I suggest. “Grab food and go eat outside in the quad or something?”

“Will that make you feel better?” Xavier asks.

“No,” I say. “But I don’t think anything will.”