“Yeah.” He nods sluggishly and turns back into the house. I follow slowly, worried that if I step in the wrong place, I’ll drop into the whirlpool and drown. The house is dark and quiet, making the wave that’s pressing down on me even stronger. But I’m soothed by the lack of light. These feelings rushing through my body don’t want to be seen.

Adam turns to me, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie, and I feel the familiar butterflies. But they flap wearily, like they have delicate wings that will be torn to pieces by the sludge if they move too quickly. I want to ask Adam what’s wrong, why he’s feeling this way, but before I can—

“Do you want anything? Water, or…” He trails off and then pulls one of his hands out of the hoodie to rub at his face. “Sorry, I’m a little out of it, it’s been a long day.”

“Everything okay?” I ask, even though I know the answer is “no.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he lies, and I don’t even need to feel the buzzer of nervousness to know he’s not telling the truth. “My aunt was over today for, like, the whole day and she can be kind of intense so it was just tiring.”

“Is she still here?” I ask, even though I’m getting the impression that no one is here. Not even Adam, really.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “She and my parents went to some event for a charity they’re all involved in or something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention when they told me about it.”

“I get that.” I snort and Adam’s lips twitch like he wants to smile but doesn’t have the face muscles to pull it off. I rock back and forth on my heels, not sure what to do. This should be awkward—the two of us standing silently in his front hall with all the lights off—but everything’s too dampened for me to feel weird. I just feel sort of … numb.

“Um.” Adam’s voice breaks the silence, too harsh for my ears. “Wanna go upstairs and watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah,” I agree, “that sounds good.”

As we walk up the stairs, I think about how I was hoping I could finally show Adam how to play Madden, but now even the thought of picking up a video game controller exhausts me. When we enter Adam’s room, I don’t have the energy to look around. I’m in a place I’ve thought a lot about in the past few weeks—wanting to explore Adam’s space, learn more about him, understand him—and all I want to do is lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep.