I must be staring too hard at the condoms because the girl says, “You can take some. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Oh no, I’m a vir—” I stop myself. Because…

Willow, duh, you are a virgin no more.

The redhead narrows her eyes. “If you’re a virgin, you could still use these.” She’s tossing a couple foiled packets in my direction. “You’re in uni. It’s better to be safe.”

Except the only person I’d want to have sex with isn’t here. But I don’t have the energy or the time to explain my complicated relationship. Not that she’d even want to hear about it.

Box now full, we both stand, and I pocket three condoms in my faded jeans. She balances the box in one arm and holds out a free hand. “I’m Karla. The student warden…or I guess, what you’d know as an RA—over at Bishop Hall.”

Bishop Hall. That’s the name of my dorm building. I’m about to tell her that we live in the same place, thankful for such a serendipitous run-in, but Karla tilts her head and eyes my face more incredulously.

“You look familiar,” she muses.

I pale and push up my glasses that slide down the bridge of my nose. Moving thousands of miles away was strategic in multiple ways. I thought, maybe, I could return to the shadows. Just for a bit.

No paparazzi.

Less people recognizing me.

I’m on the periphery of fame, and I’m settled with drifting out of it.

“I get that a lot,” I say. “Um…I have to go.” I jab a thumb towards nowhere. Technically, it’s pointed to the middle of the quad. But without making any further eye contact, I actually just walk off in the opposite direction towards the bookstore.

It’s a level 10 awkward departure.

My armpits sweat, and pressure slowly builds on my chest. What happens if I run into her again? It’s likely, right? She lives in my hall. And now she thinks I’m probably such a loser with zero social skills, and really I have no choice but to actively avoid her.

Less than an hour into my first day in London and I already have added someone on my Person to Avoid Because of an Awkward First Impression list. It’s unfortunately a long list back in Philly.

I rehash my awkward departure on a loop like rewinding a car crash scene in a movie. What could I have done differently?

About a million things. A gazillion. Trillion.

My stomach sinks.

Shake it off, Willow. I find an empty bench behind the bookstore and sling my backpack on the wooden slates. After I take a seat, I turn to my phone, which has never stopped recording. Shit. I end the video and a notification from Garrison pops up. New message!

My breath quickens. Longing swells inside me, and then other unwanted sentiments start to infiltrate their way in. Regret. Guilt.

I wish he were here, but I have to settle with the 2D version of Garrison Abbey, which is better than nothing. The thought of him being completely gone from my life only brings a wave of panic and misery.