“What? God no. I mean, I don’t even know if I do. He’s obnoxious and annoying and he calls me Skeevy. It’s just…”

“It’s just…”

It’s just … I think of how badly I’ve been wanting him to touch me. How my meals feel incomplete without the scent of his green apple. How he knew exactly what to put in the bag he brought here, because somewhere along the way, Salem Grayson became the person who knows me better than anyone else in the world.

How he looked when he opened the door last night, soft pants slung low on his hips.

How it felt to find that stupid underwear in his bed. How it felt to hear him sing that song to someone else.

How could he have sung like that to her if he feels the way about her that he says he does? A lot still does not compute, but for all I know, he’s just covering up hurt he doesn’t want to admit. And that is a confession I have no interest in extracting.

“Nothing. We’re friends. He’s my best friend here. I can’t lose him.” And I really cannot survive another heartbreak, especially if I don’t have him to go to afterward.

“Okay, Evie, now that we’ve established that Craig sucked, I’d like to emphasize just how much he sucked. And I don’t mean he sucked for cheating on you with Sierra; he obviously did. But he sucked the entire time. He never did shit for you. He forgot your last birthday, even.” Oh, God, I’d completely forgotten about that in the wake of everything else. “And yes, I should’ve told you when I found out about them, but I also couldn’t believe you just didn’t see it.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I feel stupid for all those wasted tears, all that wasted energy. The whole point of my pact with Salem is to become someone who’s stronger than that, who understands the world better than that, who can see guys like Craig coming a mile away because I’ve seen bad behavior from the other side.

But all I’m seeing is me becoming a sucker for a guy, again.

“I wanted to talk to you about it,” she continues, “but the fight we had was … a lot. I wasn’t ready to talk yet, and you weren’t ready to talk yet, and then the days just got away and I spent the summer at my grandma’s, and then you were gone. It feels like you disappeared really, really fast.”

“Funny,” I mutter, staring down at my stubby nails, “because it feels to me like I’ve been disappearing very, very slowly.”

“Does this guy see you? Your hot friend?”

“I didn’t say he was hot.”