I’m shaking with laughter by the time we make it in front of the actual fridge.

He gives it a little pat and does indeed grab the yoga magnet and put our twenty-four-hour cease-fire on the front of the stainless-steel door.

He flicks it with his thumb and forefinger. “Done. Easy.”

Not really. Not easy.

“Now…” he jerks his head toward the stairway. “Your nail appointment awaits.”

“W-what do I do for you?”

“What?” He runs into my back and then helps stabilize me. “What do you mean?”

“You’re letting me use your nail polish. Do I need, like…” How do I even say this? “I mean, nothing’s free. I’m using it, and if you want to use it some time and I used it all up, I guess I can pay you from what your mom gave me the last few weeks for food… Yeah, I’ll do that. The cash is in my room; I’ll just grab it now and—“

“—Stop.” The word is low… it kills the mood.

I have to make it better. “No, No, I mean, this is good. I shouldn’t have to owe you any—“

“—fucking stop, B!” He grips me by the shoulders. “It’s nail polish. Nail. Polish. I don’t even want it anymore. I don’t think I can bear to even look at it if it’s causing you that much stress. Just take it, use it, and don’t think of it as a favor for…” It’s like he can’t even think of the words. “Is that how I made you feel?”

I can’t breathe. “What?”

He pulls me against him, then tilts my chin with his hand. I suddenly realize he’s shaking. “Is that how I made you feel? When you came here? When we… in the bathroom, is that how I made you fucking feel?”

“I liked you.” Is the only way I can answer. It didn’t necessarily feel cheap, but it was expected. Hormones, high school seniors, new situation. But no matter how much I justify it, I realize the sad reality.

I felt like I wanted something for me, and maybe a small part of me felt like—it would be easier to get it over with.

My silence is answer enough at first, and then I shake my head. “I wanted it, I wanted you, but I’m used to… I’m used to it, maybe, I guess, I don’t know, you’re you, I’m me, I was being selfish, maybe using you as much as you were using me. When I look back, I don’t think I was thinking at all.” Tears well in my eyes. “I was scared. I was sad. And you made me feel safe.”

By the look in his eyes, you’d think I just stabbed him in the heart. He quickly glances down at the floor. Down at my toes. His shoulders slump, all bravado gone, all teasing about vegetables and cheese dead, just like the feelings he used to have for me. Just like his dad.

Gone just like his mom.