I could spend the next week ignoring Amanda or even make such a stink that she wouldn’t want to even be in the same apartment as me, but fighting with my best friend bums me.

I start considering being the bigger person and reaching out to her. Just feels like I’m always the one trying to make amends while she rides her high horse off into the sunset.

Deep down, I know that’s not true. It’s just how I’m feeling. I asked Harbor what he thought I should do this morning when I couldn’t concentrate in class. He said, “Do whatever brings you peace.”

It’s good advice.

I text her: Hi, will you be home after class?

She replies: Only long enough to change clothes. I have to work tonight.

Be the bigger person, Lark. Choose peace. I type: Can we talk while you get ready?

There’s a pause, and then she responds: Okay.

I’ll take the okay and run with it. It’s not a no. It’s a yes. I reply: See you then.

I text Harbor right after: I’m meeting Amanda after class to talk.

Three dots wave across the screen and then his message pops up: Good luck and text me later.

I reply: I will. Love you.

His I love you comes swiftly after mine as if we were typing at the same time. I love being in love with him. Now if I can only get the rest of my life in order again . . .

* * *

Amanda’s usually scuttling between the bathroom and her bedroom, but I find her putting on makeup by the window in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I say, shutting the door behind and latching the bolt.

She glances over the handheld mirror she’s holding, and says, “Hey.” But then she slowly lowers it and rests it on the counter. “Can I start since I don’t have much time?”

“Sure.” I set my backpack on the floor and strip off my jacket to hang it by the door.

As soon as I turn around, she rushes me, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me to her like she’s grateful for the chance. “I’m so sorry, Lark.”

I drop the walls around my heart that I built on my walk home and hug her as tightly as I can. “I’m sorry, too, Amanda.”

She sniffles and leans back. “Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m sorry we had a fight. I’m sorry for not having our girls’ nights. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.” I start to pace but stop instead of wearing out the floor. “I hate to think that I caused you pain.”

“I felt like you forgot me, like I wasn’t important now that you found someone to replace me, like I wasn’t your best friend anymore.”

Leaning against the counter in the kitchen, I stretch my legs across to the peninsula and balance with my feet anchored there. She comes in and sits opposite from me, just like old times.