Even in the darkness, I can see him blink twice.

“Never mind, forget I said anything,” I say, turning to unlock the door.

Is there anything I can do right lately?

“Wait, Eliza,” he says. He reaches out to grab my wrist. “I’ll come up.”

“You don’t have to,” I say. I can feel my cheeks starting to burn.

“No, really, I don’t mind,” he says.

I bite my lip. “Okay,” I say simply. “Thank you.”

• Chapter 23 •

I open the front door, lead Raj upstairs, and unlock the door to my apartment. I’m no longer embarrassed by the clutter. He’s seen worse pieces of me. He plops down comfortably on the couch. I take two seltzers from my fridge, hand him one, and sit down on the opposite end of the couch.

“All right, you are officially graduating to step three of Breakup School,” he says, grabbing my TV remote.

“Step three?” I ask.

“We already accomplished step one, which is alcohol and snacks,” he says seriously. “And step two, which is forcing yourself to hang out with friends, so you can’t just cry alone into your beer.”

“I see, thank you for guiding me through this,” I say, mimicking his no-nonsense tone.

“So step three. We have to find the ultimate distraction on Netflix. Sappy romances and cute rom-coms are strictly off-limits, which means we either need a dumb buddy cop thing or a really disturbing horror movie.”

I love that Raj can make the worst day of my life into something remotely bordering on fun.

“I think I want the TV equivalent of comfort food,” I say. “So . . . The Office?”

“Are you sure you’re emotionally prepared to watch Jim salivate over Pam right now?” he asks.

“I think I can handle season one. He’s hard-core friend-zoned.”

“The Office it is,” he says, queuing it up. “A personal favorite.”

The ottoman is only wide enough to cover half the couch, so I slide it toward the center so we can both use it. He scoots a little closer to me and kicks up his feet. I prop up my feet, moving carefully so that our legs don’t touch.

As the first episode rolls, Raj quotes Michael’s lines and does impressively accurate impressions of Dwight and Stanley. When it’s over, I’m relieved that he clicks the remote immediately to begin the next episode. (Only a person with freakish self-control could stop after just one, and let’s be real, that’s not my strong suit.)