“That’s not what I’m doing.” He sighed, rubbing his cheeks with both palms. “And I sure as hell didn’t say anything about you being a victim.”

“You said, ‘You put a lot of pressure on yourself.’”

“Never mind,” he said, defeated. “Forget I said anything.”

I felt so angry, so embarrassed and upset. I didn’t know I was directing all my feelings toward Kael. He came up to my room, I assumed, to check on me. That was a nice thing to do.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m frustrated and I’m taking it out on you. I guess this fits, since I’m”—I hooked my fingers into air quotes—“‘always pissed.’”

“I don’t think you should be too hard on yourself. People do shitty things. It’s what we’re made for,” he told me.

He was trying to change the subject, and I was grateful because I felt like crap. Any sort of buzz that I was feeling was basically gone at that point, but Kael still looked different than he had before tonight, even without my vodka glasses.

“Humans are made to do shitty things? That’s depressing,” I told him. But I kind of liked the way it sounded, cynical as it was.

He sat down next to me on my bed and the metal frame creaked. He was too big for my bed. He looked like a grown man in a dollhouse. I felt like he was going to lecture me about something, maybe ask if I did my homework. His knowing eyes were focused on me, and in a rare occurrence, he didn’t look away or stare at the floor.

“That’s life,” he said.

“Life is depressing?”

“Every life I’ve come across,” he replied, his eyes still on me.

I couldn’t disagree with him, though it made everything feel so heavy.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“You told me about the way you and your mom made sense of things, believing that when stars burn out, the good in the world dies along with them.” He chuckled softly. “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve heard, and I’ve seen and heard a lot.” He drew out the end of the word.

I laughed at that and continued to look unabashedly into his eyes. He was a good head taller than me sitting down, and his black jeans and dark skin looked so nice against each other.

Kael’s hands moved to his leg and my tummy flipped, thinking that they’d move to me next, that he was going to touch me. But instead, he rubbed at the top of his leg.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” I asked him.

For all the voices downstairs, I couldn’t hear anything except the slowing of Kael’s breathing and the sound of the air conditioner vent blowing from the ceiling.