Endings, I supposed. My endings. That was what I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. About what happened when time moved along, and all that it took with it when it did. Liam, Ethan. I remembered everything about the last time I was with each of them. It was all so vivid. Strange, what time could do. It could break apart, fuse, mend, and keep memories still—all without much warning or interference. Maybe that was why I didn’t shut down. Because I knew it wouldn’t matter. Time would simply keep passing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it—at least not on my own.

And so it did.

I used to wish for time to bend whenever I was around him. To have it slow down when he was with me and move along faster when he wasn’t. For it to stretch, so that moments would be capable of holding entire days within them. It never did, of course, but it felt possible. So much felt possible around him.

Days turned into weeks and months. Before long, school was almost over and Dr. Foster’s friend was finally going to start seeing me. When she told me, I almost texted him—almost.

I barely saw him anymore. He was constantly training or hurrying along somewhere, always with Dean or Lucy at his side, never looking at me. The few times we had caught each other’s eyes, he’d always been the first to look away.

Jonas and Sam had started hanging out. Blake had become friends with Summer and Marcy. Adam and I were always ditching class and going to the fourth-floor bathroom to get high. Everything had changed, though not much did, if that even made any sense.

I was on my way to the library, walking slowly as I reread my favorite chapter of The Wall before finally returning it, when I bumped into someone and almost toppled back.

“Fuck me!” I said, yelling at myself inside my head for being such a fucking loser, while at the same time, I was grabbed by the wrist and pulled back up.

It was then I saw Ethan was the one who had kept me from falling.

“S-sorry,” I said, looking up at him.

He gazed at me for a second before quickly turning serious, letting go of my arm, and taking a step back. I watched as he bent to grab the book that had escaped my grip.

“Sartre, again?” he asked, unfolding some of the pages before handing the book to me.

“Still, actually. I’m returning it,” I said, trying so hard not to stare.

“Just in time.” He managed a faint smile.

The way he looked at me made it so hard for me to focus.

“Congrats on the win, by the way,” I was able to say.

“You heard, huh?”

“I saw,” I corrected him, making him instantly grin. “You were fast.”