“Be ready at quarter `til,” he says as he moves to the door. “I’d hate to have to bang on the door and wake up the entire hall.”

“God, you’re obnoxious,” I say, but he’s already gone.

I get up and shower, hoping it washes away some of the lingering sadness along with the cracker crumbs. Back in my room, I look around it with fresh eyes and cringe. Ava’s side is organized and decorated with bright colors and then there’s my side. Even I can admit it looks a little depressing. Okay, a lot. White concrete walls, gray bed frame, and desk. The only color is my pale-yellow comforter.

After I’m dressed, I finally unpack. I didn’t bring a lot of personal items because so many of them reminded me of Bryan. I fill the closet with my clothes and shoes, organize all of my school stuff on the desk, and I tape up a few pictures of my family and friends from high school on the wall.

Standing back, I survey the results. It’s a start, and I feel a little more ready to face the world tomorrow. I flip on the small bedside light and crawl under the covers to sleep. I pick up my phone out of habit. Nothing good ever happens from scrolling your phone after midnight.

All of my friends from high school are posting selfies and tours of their new college dorms. There’s Bryan, handsome as ever, in blue and orange. The college campus is in the background and he’s lined up beside a group of big guys I assume are other football players based on their size. They hold beers and smile looking at the camera. He’s obviously having no problem enjoying college without me.

That same handsome face I’ve known my whole life. We were neighbors, childhood friends, and then high school sweethearts. I close my eyes and the last conversation I had with him replays in my mind.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re not going to Valley? We’re supposed to leave in three days.” We lie on my bed and I’m still in that post-sex high, so it takes me a few seconds to realize he’s serious.

His heavy weight on top of me suddenly feels claustrophobic. “I got a call from the coach at Boise State. One of their incoming freshmen got into a car accident. He’s out all year, maybe longer.”

“But we’ve been planning on going to college together for two years, and Idaho is like… a long way from Arizona. How is this going to work?”

He hesitates and runs a hand over his jaw while he studies me with an embarrassed look on his face.

“Oh my god. You’re not just telling me you’re going to Boise; you’re ending this?” I motion between us.