A quick fantasy of Brian pointing toward the door while Maggie walks out, head bowed and a suitcase in hand comes to mind before I shake my head and decide to stop eavesdropping. I know they’ll probably make up in a few hours and be falling into each other’s arms soon after that, but a boy can dream.

I reach to unlock the door just to hear the lock click on the other side. I bounce a foot back so it doesn’t look like I’ve been waiting there as the door swings open, Brian and Maggie staring back at me.

“Yo!” I say, giving them a quick wave.

Brian raises an eyebrow. “I’m walking Maggie out,” he says.

I nod, stepping around him into the apartment. “Cool. Good to see you, Maggie!” I say, even though it’s anything but. Then I beeline for my closet.

I don’t know if Maggie offers me a response, and honestly, I don’t care to find out. Closing the closet door behind me, I plop down on the mattress and grab my laptop.

The second I open Tumblr, my eyes fixate on the little red number over my asks. Okay, it’s not so little anymore. When did it pass two thousand? Hell, I barely remember it passing two hundred.

Opening my notifications, I find someone tagged me in a post saying they’ll relay a message to the troll. Perfect. They could’ve sent me a DM like a normal person, but instead they decided to make this whole thing public like they’re just relishing my misery.

I click on their blog and shoot them a DM, saying: Hey, I just want to say that I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, and that if they want me to remove a story from the blog, I can do that. Also we should discuss how they want to retract their statement since the stories aren’t stolen and this really was just an awkward coincidence.

Brian knocks on the closet door once before saying, “Noah, come help me roll some egg rolls.”

I sigh and press send before closing my laptop and making my way into the kitchen. “I was busy,” I say.

He grins. “So that means you’re not anymore, right? These things take forever.”

I sit down on one of the bar stools and pull the little egg roll wrappers to me. I used to help my mom roll them when we were kids, and yeah, they take forever. And there’s a surgical precision in making sure you roll them tight enough that they don’t spill out, but also making sure you don’t tear through the thin, floury wrapper.

We work in silence for a few minutes as I push the Diary out of my head only to have it replaced with a more annoying thought. “So, what are you hiding from me?”