“Okay, so no specific details, you were both very close-lipped about it, but I know it was a thing. You’ve also told me about how you obsess over work because of your sickness. Leon has to force you to take breaks. Your parents gave you tour bus tickets, and they’re about to expire.” I blow out a breath. “You always steal my fries when we go to dinner. You’re one of the most considerate people I know. And you’re a really good kisser.”

A smile flashes across his face.

I step toward him. He keeps his hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t back away.

That’s a good sign. Isn’t it?

“Alex, I know it sounds totally bananas, but it’s true. I’m not a stalker. I swear, I know all of this because you told me.”

He is silent for a minute, eyes searching mine.

My nerves start jittering again. He’s going to tell me to eff off, or take me to a hospital. But my nerves don’t explode into panic, because I know if he does, it won’t matter tomorrow. I hang on to that, the only truth I know. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up in bed and he won’t remember any of this. No matter how terrible this moment is right now, it’s not forever.

What used to be a curse is now a lifeline.

Finally, he nods. “If you’re going through this, then I believe you.”

Relief makes me sag; I didn’t realize how tense I was until he spoke. “You do?”

“Yes.”

I swallow, breath whooshing out of me in a relieved rush. “I really thought I would have to convince you more. Or you’d run away screaming. Or take me to the hospital for a CT scan. Which I’ve already done, by the way.”

He chuckles a little. “I have to admit it sounds incredibly farfetched, and I would like to come up with a more logical reason you could know all of that. But I’d prefer to take you at your word.”

“Really?”

“I try to believe what people tell me as they see it, not how I think they should.” He shrugs. “That’s where true understanding comes from.”

Oh, Alex. It would be so easy to love him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fingers to the middle of my forehead. “I wouldn’t believe me.” I spread my arms out before flopping them down to my sides. “The screwed-up part is that it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Tomorrow will be Monday, again, and you won’t remember any of it. That’s why . . . that’s one of the reasons I want you to come back to my place with me. Or I can go to your place. Either way. I just, it’s hard to understand, but I need to make something different.”