Friday night feels different.

Not because the party is bigger.

Because it isn't.

No strangers.

No random freshmen.

No people wandering in because they heard music three blocks away.

Just us.

The guys.

The girlfriends.

The people who've somehow become my people.

Finals are over.

Graduation is tomorrow.

And nobody wants to admit we're all a little sad about it.

So naturally everyone drinks instead.

The living room is loud.

The kitchen is louder.

Corey is arguing with Baxter about something objectively stupid.

Mark is laughing at both of them.

Priya is halfway through a story she's already told twice.

The whole house feels lighter than it has in months.

Except Jesse.

Not visibly.

Not enough that anyone else would notice.

But I notice.

Because apparently I've spent the last year earning a master's degree in Jesse Lennon Studies.

He's laughing.

Telling stories.

Refilling drinks.

Doing all the normal Jesse things.

But every once in a while I catch him staring off into space for half a second too long.

Like he's somewhere else.

Like he's already gone.

I don't like it.

Not even a little.

"You look concerned."

I glance over.

Mark.

Of course.

"I am concerned."

"About?"

I immediately look toward Jesse.

Mark follows my gaze.

Then sighs.

"Yeah."

That is not the response I was hoping for.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I've known him for four years."

"And?"

"And that kid is hanging on by dental floss."

I blink.

"Jesse?"

"Yes."

"The guy who survived organic chemistry, three concussions, and Corey as a roommate?"

"The very same."

Mark takes a drink.

Then shrugs.

"He's terrified."

My stomach drops.

"Of what?"

Mark looks at me for a long second.

Then laughs softly.

"Oh wow."

"What?"

"You really don't know."

"I hate when people say that."

"Yeah."

"Mark."

He sighs.

Looks toward the backyard where Jesse is helping carry a cooler.

Then back at me.

"You know what Jesse's problem is?"

"Several things come to mind."

"I'm serious."

I lean against the counter.

"Fine."

Mark thinks about it for a second.

Then says,

"Jesse spends his whole life expecting people to leave."

The answer catches me off guard.

"What?"

"He plans for it."

I frown.

"That's depressing."

"Yeah."

A pause.

"Then you showed up."

Something uncomfortable settles in my chest.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you became permanent."

Before I can ask what that's supposed to mean, somebody yells Mark's name from across the room.

He points at me.

"Don't overthink it."

"I absolutely will."

"I know."

Then he's gone.

Helpful.

Very helpful.

A few minutes later I head into the kitchen looking for another drink.

That's when I hear my name.

"Mia."

I freeze.

Slowly turn around.

Brian.

Of course.

Because apparently tonight wasn't emotionally complicated enough already.

"Hey."

"Hey."

The awkwardness arrives immediately.

Brian looks uncomfortable.

Which is honestly refreshing.

Usually that was my job.

"Can we talk?"

I briefly consider pretending I don't hear him.

Unfortunately we're making direct eye contact.

"Sure."

We step out onto the front porch.

The music fades behind us.

Brian shoves his hands into his pockets.

"I owe you an apology."

Well.

This is already terrible.

He looks down.

Shakes his head.

"I was awful to you."

I shrug.

"You certainly weren't great at the end."

A laugh escapes him.

"Fair."

The silence stretches for a moment.

Then:

"You know what the worst part is?"

"This should be good."

Brian smiles weakly.

"No, seriously."

He leans against the railing.

"I spent a lot of time convincing myself I was a decent boyfriend."

"That's never a sentence that ends well."

"It doesn't."

Unfortunately, he's right.

Brian shakes his head.

"I thought liking somebody was enough."

The words catch me off guard.

"What?"

"I liked you."

I don't answer.

Because weirdly, hearing it now doesn't feel like much of anything.

Not after everything.

Not after the way it ended.

"I cared about you."

Another pause.

"But I wasn't showing up."

The honesty lands harder than I expect.

Not because it hurts.

Because it's true.

Brian rubs the back of his neck.

"You wanted somebody excited to see you."

My stomach tightens.

"You wanted somebody that made room for you."

I stare out into the darkness.

"You wanted somebody that picked you over everything."

Ouch.

Brian laughs softly.

"Sorry."

"You should be."

"Fair."

The conversation falls quiet again.

Then:

"You know what your problem is?"

I groan.

Immediately.

"Everybody keeps asking me that lately."

"You fall in love with potential."

Excuse me?

My head snaps toward him.

"What does that mean?"

Brian shrugs.

"It means you see who people could become."

I don't like where this is going.

"And then you love them like they're already there."

The words settle somewhere uncomfortable.

Because we're definitely not talking about Brian anymore.

"You think I'm talking about Jesse."

"I didn't say Jesse."

"You thought it."

I hate that he's right.

Brian laughs.

Shakes his head.

"I like Jesse."

"That's weird."

"He hates me."

"Fair."

The smile lingers for a second before fading.

Then Brian gets serious again.

"Jesse's not a bad guy."

"I know."

"I know you know."

Silence.

"But he's not ready for the kind of boyfriend you actually want."

There it is.

The sentence.

Not dramatic.

Not cruel.

Just honest.

I cross my arms.

"You seem awfully confident."

"I'm not."

Brian looks out toward the yard.

"I just recognize it."

My stomach sinks.

Because I know exactly what he means.

"I wasn't ready either."

The words come quietly.

Without excuses.

Without trying to rewrite history.

"I thought caring about somebody meant I was ready." A pause. "It didn't."

For a second neither of us says anything.

The music thumps softly through the house behind us.

People laugh.

Somebody yells Corey's name.

Life keeps moving.

Brian sighs.

"Maybe Jesse gets there."

The words hang in the air.

"Maybe he doesn't."

I stare at the darkness.

At nothing.

Then:

"But don't confuse loving somebody with being ready for them."

And that one lands.

Hard.

Because for some reason it feels less like advice and more like a warning.

A few minutes later Brian heads back inside.

I stay on the porch.

Thinking.

Which is never a good sign.

Eventually I make my way back through the house.

The party is still going.

The music is still loud.

The beer is still flowing.

But Jesse is gone.

Not gone gone.

Brooding gone.

There's a difference.

I find him exactly where I expected.

Out back.

Sitting alone.

Arms crossed.

Looking personally offended by the moon.

"There you are."

No response.

I sit beside him.

Still nothing.

The silence lasts about ten seconds.

Then:

"You look like you're planning a murder."

"I'm considering it."

"There he is."

His eyes roll.

"How's Brian?"

I smile.

"Saw that, eh?"

He doesn't say anything, but I hear a low growl in his throat.

"You were jealous."

"No."

"Jess."

"No."

"Jess."

A sigh.

Long.

Defeated.

Then:

"Maybe."

The smile gets bigger.

"Oh my God."

"Don't."

"You were jealous."

"I said don't."

"Of Brian."

"I know who Brian is."

I laugh.

Jesse does not.

Which somehow makes it funnier.

"You know he was apologizing, right?"

"I know."

"He wasn't trying to get me back."

"I know."

"Then why are you pouting?"

That finally gets his attention.

Jesse turns toward me.

And whatever joke I was about to make dies immediately.

Because he's not joking.

Not even a little.

"Because I was jealous."

The smile disappears.

The air changes.

Suddenly this conversation feels dangerous.

"Jess..."

"Of course I was jealous, Mia."

The words land harder than they should.

Maybe because he's looking directly at me.

Maybe because he's done pretending.

Maybe because I suddenly realize where this is going.

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Jesse laughs once.

Exhausted.

Defeated.

Like a man finally surrendering.

"Hasn't it been fucking obvious?"

My stomach drops.

"What?"

"I'm in love with you."

Everything stops.

The music.

The party.

My heartbeat.

Everything.

I stare at him.

Certain I heard him wrong.

Certain I imagined it.

Certain the beer somehow caused auditory hallucinations.

Jesse just shakes his head.

Looking somewhere over my shoulder.

Anywhere except me.

"I'm in love with you."

Quieter this time.

Somehow worse.

More real.

My brain completely short-circuits.

This is the thing.

The thing I've wanted.

The thing I've imagined.

The thing I've spent months trying not to want.

And somehow I have absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Jesse finally looks back at me.

His expression is unreadable.

Tired.

Scared.

Honest.

"I'm just a fucking mess you don't deserve."

The words hit harder than the confession.

Because that's the part he actually believes.

Not that he loves me.

That he's going to ruin me.

I should say something.

Anything.

A joke.

A question.

A sentence.

Instead I sit there staring at him like my brain has been unplugged.

Eventually I stand.

Jesse doesn't stop me.

Doesn't take it back.

Doesn't ask me to stay.

I make it halfway to the door before he speaks.

"Mia."

I stop.

"You don't have to say anything tonight."

I nod.

Because he's right.

If I open my mouth right now, I honestly don't know what will come out.

So I leave.

For the first time in almost a week.

I walk back to my dorm.

Unlock the door.

Step inside.

And stare at my room.

Then I start packing.

Because apparently when Jesse Lennon tells me he's in love with me, my response is to organize my belongings.

Which feels deeply unhealthy.

But at least it's productive.