It was tough at first, new school, new city, new state. But Josh was there, and I was grateful. He introduced me to Samuel and Hoon and Mark and Julien, and for the first time in a long time, it actually felt like I had friends, not people who wanted to be friends with me for my money or my connections.

I want Josh to still be my friend. I’m already kind of missing what we’ve lost.

Why can’t he just let this go?

I don’t want to give him hope, but I don’t want to ruin things.

“I just wish that you would talk to me,” Josh says, walking toward Wyatt’s perfectly made bed and taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Instead of shutting me down.”

“What is there to listen to, though? I don’t get it.”

Josh opens his mouth … then he closes it again, the words lost.

I press on. “Exactly. What we had between us, it was nice, Josh, I’ll totally admit that. But you read too much into it.”

It’s like I can watch his heart break in real time. He doesn’t cry, there are no tears, but there’s a light behind his eyes that vanishes.

“I still love you, as one of my best friends,” I say. “But I want you to let this crush shit go, understand?”

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

The words actually surprise me for a moment, especially coming from Josh.

“What?”

“I don’t believe that it was nothing to you. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, I don’t care what you believe.” I keep my voice firm. “I know what’s going on in my own head.”

“Yeah, right.” Josh clasps his hands together nervously.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Well, it is.”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t feel anything for me? Not even a bit?”

Maybe he’s right; maybe there were some feelings? I mean, who wouldn’t fall at least a little bit for the small kisses on the forehead, being brought breakfast sandwiches in the morning, ankles connecting under the table while we studied, sharing AirPods on a walk, and listening to the same songs?

But I was never in love with Josh.

“Yes. Not even a bit.”

Josh’s head sinks, and it’s times like this that I wish I could read minds. Not, like, permanently—that’d be a huge invasion of privacy. But right now, it’d been good to know what he’s thinking, what’s knocking around in that noggin of his.

I exhale slowly, rubbing the back of my head where my hair is sticking up. I probably went to sleep with it wet.

It’s in this beat of silence that I think of my way out.