Then they saw me and clammed up. Liz scowled, lifting her chin; as always, Trish looked alarmed and slightly tense to have me around. “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. Neither answered, and I held back a sigh as I got my shampoo and towel and left the dorm again. The ironic thing is I think Trish and I could have been friends – she was so nice; there was no other word for her. But it was obvious how wary she was of me, and how much she hated the strain I’d brought to the group.

Wesley was the only quiet one; always hunched over his laptop, more given to sullen grunts than talking. At first I thought he hated everyone, then I realized he was just excruciatingly shy. Though there was something else there too – once, I got a sense of sorrow from him so strong I almost said something. The keep away expression on his face told me to forget it. Mostly he avoided me, the same as everyone else, while I tried to ignore the fact I was being avoided. As if there wasn’t this huge unspoken thing about me that made everyone stiffen if I accidentally stood too close.

I mentally gave myself a shake whenever I caught myself thinking like that. I hated feeling this way; it was totally unlike me to be self-pitying. But I was just...really lonely. I missed Alex, even though we were in the same house together. There wasn’t anyplace we could truly be alone here. The dorms and the kitchen always had people going in and out; the range and the exercise room were pretty unideal. The TV room always had someone in it – such as Brendan, who had insomnia and was usually surfing the net on his laptop at three in the morning.

Though Alex’s tiny bedroom should have been a haven, it wasn’t much of one, because it was right off the boys’ dorm. As in, you had to pass directly through the dorm to get to it. When any of the guys were out there we could hear their murmurs of conversation – so obviously we could be heard as well. And somehow Alex being the lead meant we couldn’t just tell them to get out; it would have felt like he was getting special privileges or something.

So we could kiss, we could touch...but we couldn’t let ourselves get too carried away. I was so aware of the box Alex had bought on our way down to Mexico City, still sitting in his bag unopened. He was too – understatement – but neither of us mentioned it. Like me, I knew how much Alex wanted it to be perfect for us when it happened – not feeling self-conscious because someone might hear, or sneaking down to the sweaty-smelling exercise room.