The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic about it.

And as if everything isn’t terrible enough, Jake says, “Dude. No offense or anything, but why does your grandma sound like Alice Sun? Like all shrill and aggressive and shit?”

“You think?” Henry replies, keeping his tone carefully neutral. “I never noticed.”

Jake laughs his usual hyena laugh, taps the door once more, then says, “All right my man. I’ll leave you to it then—Oh, and if you ever do get a girl or two in your room—”

“I assure you the probability is quite low,” Henry interrupts.

But Jake doesn’t even falter. “Just feel free to invite me in, yeah?”

Henry frowns, looking for a moment as if he’s fighting himself on whether or not to answer. Then, with a sigh, he says, “What about your girlfriend?”

“What?” Jake sounds genuinely confused.

“You know. Rainie Lam?”

“Oh, her.” Another loud laugh. “Dude, where’ve you been? We broke up ages ago—like, almost a whole ass month ago. I’m super available now.”

“Right,” Henry mutters. “Good to know.”

Please just go, I beg Jake in my head. But the universe must really not be in a cooperative mood today, because Jake continues—

“Wait a second. You’re not asking because you’re interested in Rainie, are you? I mean, I’d be totally cool with that. Hell, I’d even set you two up if you—”

“No,” Henry interrupts, with surprising force. His gaze darts to some spot near my chin, as if he’s looking for me. As if I’m suddenly an important part of this conversation. “I have no interest whatsoever.”

“Okay, okay,” Jake says hastily. “Just putting it out there. But if you ever are—”

“I’m not.”

“But if you ever are, we can do, like, a trade. You know what I’m saying?”

Henry makes a noncommittal sound with the back of his throat, and finally, Jake seems to take the cue to leave. I listen to the heavy thumps of Jake’s footsteps echoing down the corridor—it’s a humiliating testament to how loud I was talking that I didn’t hear them before—and count to ten in my head to calm myself.

Or try to, at least; I haven’t even reached seven when Henry turns to me.

“Er,” he says, in a very un-Henry-like way. His eyes lift up to meet mine, and with the sun hitting them at just the right angle, I can almost make out the curve of every individual eyelash. It’s ridiculous. “I—I can see you again.”

I can see you again.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard such beautiful words in my life.

But my relief is quickly cut short by the realization that I’m standing far too close to him. I scramble backward, nearly banging my leg on the corner of his bed.

He makes a movement as if to help me, then seems to think better of it. “Are...you all right?”

I straighten. Fold my arms tight across my chest, trying to shake the feeling that I’ve just woken up from some disorientating dream. “Yeah. Perfect.”