“God, you look terrible,” I said the moment he came into view. And he really did. I didn’t think the bags under his eyes could get worse, that his hair could become more of a rat’s nest, that his cheeks could get more sunken. I was feeling pretty bad about my so-called attempt at “help.”

“Hello to you too,” he grunted, though he honestly didn’t seem that annoyed by my greeting. I was finding that if I just treated Damien like Aaron—like the irritating older brother who I actually loved—his shoulders relaxed and his barely-there smiles came more easily.

“Sorry,” I said anyway. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He groaned. “Just a little hungover.”

“It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.” I couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped me.

“It was a rough morning,” he said darkly, rubbing his eyes.

“Yikes, what happened?” I asked, my heart beating fast. Had I made the nightmares worse?

“What do you think happened, I drank half a bottle of bourbon, drunk dialed my—” He stopped himself, wincing and averting his eyes before taking a deep inhale and continuing. “Then I took a nap and a cold shower and now I’m here and I’ve got a headache so can we skip all the probing questions about the AM for today?”

Even though I was feeling like I was starting to get to know him, it was still easy to forget that Damien was like this. You could never ask him questions or talk to him like a normal person. But I can tease him like I tease Aaron, hold him at an arm’s length and rib him instead of risking either of us ever admitting we care. That’s a more comfortable lane for me to stay in anyway.

“Jeez, cool it on the attitude. Here—coffee.” I handed him a cup, not as quite as hot as it should have been, given that I had been sitting in the cold for thirty minutes.

“God bless you.” He sighed before taking a sip.

“So … drunk dialed an ex?” I guessed. He flinched, trying to pass it off as the coffee being too hot, but I knew I’d hit pay dirt.

“I’ve been there,” I continued, faux-casual, even though I barely had.

“You’re nineteen,” he scoffed.

“Okay, so I’ve sugar-high-dialed an ex, it’s basically the same thing.”

“He’s not an—” Damien started, sounding more uncertain than I’d ever heard him. “I mean, he’s not—it was never like that.”