“What? Are you … are you being serious right now? Of course that’s not why—Jesus, Babe!” he said.

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You’ve been avoiding me! The last thing I have from you is that stupid text!” I scowled. “You said it’d be better to lie low until she cools down. That it’d be better if I didn’t show my face, if we weren’t seen together. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

“I … I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“No. Hiding wasn’t the right choice. It was the easy choice.”

“You think anything about this has been easy?”

“Yeah, because you’ve been the one iced out, right? Wait, that was me.” I shook my head. “Nice try.”

“You are so mistaken if you think you’re the only one who has to earn her forgiveness,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah?” I rolled my eyes. “What was your crime? Because clearly I’m the shitty best friend who kissed her boyfriend. You? She took you back. She could have ended things—again—but she didn’t.”

The silence felt loud as my words bobbed to the surface like jagged bits of driftwood. Oh, but there was so much more below. There was a whole shipwreck of our friendship.

“Babe…”

I hated the plea in his voice. I couldn’t deal with it.

“I’m sorry. I know it was my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her that we kissed, but I didn’t feel right in hiding it.” His cheeks flamed again, even more vivid and angry than they were before.

“That wasn’t your mistake.” My chest heaved. “Why did you do it, Chad?”

“I don’t understand,” Chad said, the words as careful as if they were walking over broken glass.

I stared at him, committing his face to memory. There was something comforting in his face, something that still made me feel safe despite it all. Despite everything. “Why did you kiss me?” I whispered. “Did you kiss me for me, or because I reminded you of her?”

The silence lingered too long for it to mean anything other than agreement. I didn’t know to which part of my question, but it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he didn’t know the answer any more than I did. I felt like the mythical Odysseus, so far from home and his loved ones, about a million obstacles in front of him.

The memories of our good times came in an onslaught, too fast and too bittersweet to fight them off. I felt like someone was taking my ribs and tying them into sailing knots. And then, just as quickly, I saw the twinkling stars and whispered conversations and booze-free recklessness drift away, a curl of smoke on the stub of a burned-out candle.