It's seven o'clock before I eat. I sit alone in my bedroom with the door closed, listening to Florence + the Machine and devouring a blueberry muffin. Back in the beginning stages of my anorexia nervosa, I always went on a binging fest after a long day of restricted eating. My therapist said it was a way for my body to make up the calories, but right now, it feels terrifying more than anything else. Like I can't stop, even when I want to.

Luckily, I don't have much to eat in my dorm room. Only two low-fat yogurts and half of a banana remain in my fridge. Just as I start on the banana, a soft knocking comes at the door. It's so quiet, I barely hear it beyond my music. I click off the song and pull out my headphones.

"Yeah?" I say.

"Can I come in?" It's Rebecca, her voice more timid than usual.

I take another bite of banana, chewing slowly. Then, I move it back into the fridge and hide it behind the yogurts. A sudden guiltiness wraps around my waist, feeling thick and heavy.

"Addie?" she asks.

"Yeah, you can come in," I say finally. My palms start to sweat before I'm done speaking. All I can think about is last night and the vodka and Lex's scrunched face as he pulled away from me.

"Hey," she says. She shuts the door and takes a seat at my desk, momentarily fiddling with one of my pencils.

"Hi," I say. It's probably the moment when I should apologize for taking out my embarrassment on Rebecca. My tongue feels thicker than my guilt though, so I remain silent.

"I talked to Lex," she says. "He's not mad about last night."

"You talked to Lex?" I repeat, my irritation immediately flaring. I wrap my hands across my stomach and stare out my tiny window. There are students down below, milling about and huddling together despite the heat.

"Don't be mad," says Rebecca. "I just wanted to get his opinion on the situation."

"So you've both agreed that it was all my fault," I say, snapping my head in her direction. I can tell I'm being too irritable, but I can't help myself. My mind is a horrible mixture of embarrassment and exhaustion and anger.

"Jesus, Addie," says Rebecca. "Can you let me say anything?"

I slowly chew on my tongue and again let my attention wander out the window.

"He's not mad that he had to watch over you," says Rebecca, her words coming quickly, as though she knows I'll interrupt again. Before I can, she continues, "But he is mad that I got you into the whole situation. So I'm sorry."

The enflamed part of my mind wants to point out that she's only apologizing because Lex thinks she should, but I don't give into the cattiness.

"Thanks," I say. I pick at my orange fingernail polish, which is already too chipped to be pretty, despite me painting my nails yesterday.

"Are we still friends?" asks Rebecca.

I look up at her hopeful smile, and somehow, her expression eases the guilt around my middle. She wants to be friends, and she honestly cares whether are or not. That's not something I've experienced often.

"Yeah, of course," I say. I pick at my fingernail polish for another second before looking back at her. My voice falls low, but I know I have to say it, "I wasn't really mad at you anyway."

"You weren't?" asks Rebecca. Both of her eyebrows jet toward her hairline. "Because you kind of seemed like it...and you definitely said you were this morning."

"Yeah, I know," I say. My throat begins to clog with embarrassment, but I force myself to keep talking. "Something else happened last night. And I don't know if Lex told you already, but—"

"He didn't tell me anything," says Rebecca. Her eyes widen. "Did you guys totally bone?"

"Oh my God, Rebecca," I say, clasping both hands over my eyes. It isn't funny, but for some reason, I start to laugh. It feels good, like tension slipping through my body. "No, we didn't bone."

"Are you sure?" presses Rebecca. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"I promise," I say, and I try to ignore the expression of relief that passes over Rebecca's face.

"So what is it?" she asks.

"I tried to..." My words fumble through my lips to the point where even I can't understand them. I clear my throat and try again. "I tried to kiss Lex."

"What do you mean tried?" asks Rebecca, her eyes scrunching. A palish glow falls over her cheeks, but her face remains passive.

"Well, I guess I did kiss him," I say, squirming in my seat. When Rebecca only leans forward, eyes noticeably eager, I slowly continue. "But he pulled away from me."

"Like, as you were kissing?" asks Rebecca. Bits of pink blood return to her face, and I think I hear her sigh.

"Yeah," I say. I don't know why I'm talking anymore, especially since Rebecca isn't exactly on my side. But it feels good to confide in someone, no matter the situation.

"Oh man," says Rebecca. She lets out a slow whistle and leans back in the desk chair. "Did he say why? I mean, there must be a reason. He seemed pretty into you the other night."

"I can't remember why" I say, my heart thumping quietly in my chest. I try not to look too hopeful when I return my gaze to Rebecca. "Did he honestly seem interested in me?"

"Totally," says Rebecca. "I thought you two would be a couple for sure."

"Well, thanks," I say. I scratch the back of my hand aimlessly, but it doesn't seem to help the permanent itch.

Rebecca taps her chin for a long moment, twisting her face into a deep frown and quirked eyebrows. I snort with laughter, until suddenly, she snaps forward, clapping her hands together.

"I accept the challenge," says Rebecca. She grins maniacally at me, hands still pressed together in a silent prayer.

"What challenge—"

"I'll figure out why he backed out," says Rebecca with a shrug. "There's got to be a concrete answer to this."

"No, no, no," I say, waving my hands. "Please don't ask him. Because if you ask him, he'll know I told you."

"So what?" asks Rebecca. She leaps off the chair and strides over to the couch, squishing herself in the small space beside me. "Addie, you have to know why he didn't want to kiss you. And if you're drunken mind is holding the answer captive, I'll have to figure it out myself."

I stare at her, resisting the urge to scoot over on the couch. Our arms stick together with the unbearable heat, and a line of sweat drips from Rebecca's hairline.

"I think I need to turn on my fan," I say. Before Rebecca can say anything more, I spring from the couch and put as much distance between us as possible. I can't explain why, but I like not knowing why Lex rejected me. It leaves all the possibilities to my imagination—and none of them are likely as bad as the true reason.

"You're stressing about nothing," says Rebecca. "It was probably something stupid. Like maybe your breath stunk. Did you think of that?"

"My breath didn't stink," I say defensively, but as soon as Rebecca turns away, I cup a hand to my mouth. Neutral breath.

When I turn on the fan, Rebecca leans forward and stretches out her arms. The fan ruffles her shirt and tousles her hair over her shoulders. She looks ready to start up again, but I force myself to interject.

"Are you sure you don't like Lex?" I ask. "I know you said you'd only sleep with him, but I really don't want to step over any boundaries. And I mean, I know it doesn't matter anyway, because he obviously doesn't feel that way about me, but I just—"

"You worry way too much," says Rebecca with a pealing laugh. But then, her head drops slightly and she bobs her shoulders. "You know, I've thought about it a lot. And maybe I would've gone out with him. I'm not really his type though."

Now that Rebecca answered me, I wish I wouldn't have asked. I feel a queasy roll in my stomach that won't dissipate, no matter how hard I squeeze against it. Rebecca, or at least some part of her, has feelings for Lex. The only reason she doesn't want to go out with him is because she doesn't think she could.

"Rebecca, you're amazing," I say, knowing I sound stupid and cheesy, but continuing anyway. "There's no way he wouldn't want to go out with you."

"Nah, I sleep around too much," says Rebecca. "I mean, obviously not when I'm in a relationship, but still. Guys don't really dig whores."

I cringe—I can't help it. I've always hated words like whore and slut. They tear down people—usually girls— and make them feel bad about themselves. Like now.

"That's crazy," I say. "What you do with your body is your business, nobody else's. And I don't think Lex is the type to judge, especially on something like that."

Rebecca shrugs and forces a smile onto her face. "It's okay, I'm kind of at peace with it now. Besides, I'm not really ready to settle down into a serious relationship. There's a lot of boys to chase before I pick just one. But I think Lex is ready, for a serious relationship, I mean."

I nod slowly, unsure what to say. Hooking my pinkies together, I clear my throat.

"So, you think he has a type?" I ask, my voice coming out weaker than I hoped. "You think I'm his type?"

Rebecca's lips relax into a sad smile. "Yeah, I do. I think you'd be just right for him. And hopefully, he thinks that, too."

For a moment, I feel the validation swell through my chest and out through my skin. It feels good, this imaginary idea of Lex wanting me. But then, a dark voice squirms through my body, telling me I'm not ready for someone as good and pure as Lex. And the worst part is, I think the voice is exactly right.