“It’s okay,” I say. He’s a person who matters to her. When I glance at her, she’s watching me, her brow furrowed.

“It’s okay,” I say again.

She turns away and wipes her eyes with both hands. “Sorry.” She takes a quick breath.

I stand, trying to compute some kind of human reaction.

“Do you have to go?” she asks, misunderstanding my motion. She sits up and reaches for a tissue. “I’m probably freaking you out with all my drama.”

“No, I . . . I was — I thought . . .” I take a sudden hard breath. “Do you need a hug?”

She glances up, surprised. Then she nods and says, “A hug would be good.”

My heart pounds in my throat. I inch over to the bed, gingerly sitting beside her, then stop, not sure what to do with any of my limbs. “I’m not really very good at this.” I stare at my shoes.

“At hugging?” Her voice is gentle.

I nod. I’m so awkward and shaky, she must think I’m completely weird. Mom hugs me. I used to hug Dad. But beyond that, I’ve always had a no-touching policy. I don’t know where the proper boundaries lie for people who are outside of family.

“It’s okay. You just . . .” She puts a hand on my shoulder.

Every nerve in my body is on fire. I keep staring at my shoes as if they contain the hidden secrets of the universe.

“You’re supposed to put your arms around me, too,” she says.

So I put my arms around her, letting them rest softly on her back, trying to ignore how good she feels against me. How much I love the way her curves press into me, how amazing she smells.

Finally, she pulls back and says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I mumble, grateful for my mother’s conditioning regarding manners. “I have to go.” I stand up, unable to think about what happens if I stay.

“Are you walking?” she asks, frowning. She’s worried about me.

“Yeah. It’s not far.”

“Okay. Be careful. Hey.” She smiles at me, and my insides go wonky. Being smiled at by Zoe is like stepping off a cliff. I have no idea how long the drop is, and no clue where I’ll land. She says, “Thanks for tonight. I liked hanging with you.”

“Sure,” I say, because at this point it’s going to be either monosyllabic words or desperate random noises. I give her a stupid wave.

And then I do what I do best: disappear.

Zoe

When I wake up on Sunday, the house is too silent, and then I remember why.