I pretend I don’t know what he’s saying. I can’t help but mess with him sometimes. He’s so easy.

He lunges at me, trying to grab my beer, but he can’t quite reach and keep his foot against the door. For a split second, I’m tempted to keep ignoring him to teach him a lesson about being a prima donna egomaniac, but I decide to choose the route of least resistance, per usual. I hide my cup behind the speaker I’m sitting on.

“Yoooo! Who’s blocking the door?” Matt’s voice rips through the relative calm. Perfect. Now I wish I’d thrown my beer at the door instead of hiding it.

I look at Conor and he shrugs like Sorry, Zach and moves his foot. Five seconds later, Matt barges into the room, followed by Rosa.

“Conor, what the hell? We’re carrying a ton of stuff—that wasn’t cool….” Rosa sounds super annoyed, but when she sees me, she trails off.

Conor’s eyes dart in my direction, and a flash of concern runs across his face. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. His poker face is beyond good. “Sorry, yeah. Got something jammed under the door for a sec. Sorry ’bout that.”

Rosa dumps the armful of stuff she lugged into the room onto one of the ratty chairs behind Conor and perches on another one. She starts biting her thumbnail. These are the closest quarters we’ve been in since we broke up last year. The other times we’ve been in the same room, people and square footage have separated us.

Last fall, after my mom decided to screw my life up, Rosa had a big problem with her decision to take the case. Like, to the point where she wouldn’t come to my house anymore. I get it—trust me, I do—but at the same time, it’s my mom. What was I supposed to do? Never speak to her again? Not defend her when Rosa started ranting some really mean shit about her one night after a few drinks? After that super-fun evening, I told Rosa I wanted to take a break, and then all of a sudden—three weeks later—there was Matt, swooping in, asking her to the homecoming dance. Never asking me if it was cool, mind you. He definitely did not give a shit.

When Rosa asked me if I cared whether she went to the dance with Matt, I said no. It wasn’t like I wanted her back, and they were friends. The thing is, I didn’t think she’d see him as anything more than that. Moreover, I didn’t think a friend would do that to me—swoop in on my barely cold relationship with no regard for my feelings. Nowadays, I wouldn’t be so surprised. Nowadays, I wouldn’t be surprised at all.