“May.” Chim’s waving her hand in front of my face. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to drink?” She gestures to the bar.

“Oh. Right. Just ginger ale or whatever. Thanks.”

Chim gives me a thumbs-up and walks away. I really do need to make more of an effort with her.

It’s so loud in here. The room is small, and with every new note they play, the band’s discord threatens to deafen me. They are awful. No two ways about it.

It’s super dark and the crowd’s getting bigger with every passing second. People start to press up against me, around me. When one particularly aggressive guy shoves his way by me, I’m jostled up against the bar. My heart starts pounding in my ears, louder than anything else in the room. Coming over here, into this mess of bodies, was a terrible idea. But staying at home, surrounded by all those letters I can’t open and can’t destroy, wouldn’t have been any better.

I suck in a slow breath, blow it out, but it doesn’t help. I start to get dizzy. My vision blurs. I’m trapped in the thick of all these people. No way out. Not safe here, not safe at home—everywhere I go, he follows me, the stain of that day follows me—there’s no escaping.

With shaking hands, I reach into my bag to find my phone. I need to text Lucy. Ask her to please, please, come out here and save me.

I can’t find it. It’s nowhere in my bag. Where is it? Breathe, May. I push my hair off my face, but half of it plasters onto my forehead, wet and sticky.

I’m sweating. I’m trapped and I’m sweating.

I squeeze my eyes shut to block it all out—the noise and the people—but instead Jordan’s face appears, like it’s painted onto the back of my eyelids. At first, he smiles at me, that little smile that’s so much like my own, and I want to jump into the picture, to hold him one more time. But as I continue to press my lids shut, the picture morphs and his head explodes, and the smile melts off his face, and then I feel myself falling.

Chapter Twenty

I’m standing next to May, waiting for her intense friend to return and trying my best not to get super annoyed at the dude to my right who keeps bumping into me every five seconds. My biggest pet peeve about coming to Conor’s shows—other than Matt, obviously—is the total lack of personal space. Like, can’t this guy take a hint and move over? Respect my boundaries? It’s like I’m invisible to him.