I packed a few more things, ignoring the chaos I felt inside, the chaos inside my bags and the chaos left in the room when I was done. Slinging the bulky backpacks over my shoulders, I glanced at my room one last time. I would miss this place, but mostly I would miss Ayden. Despite his attitude and the unfairness of the situation, I would still unpack my bags if he just gave me a sign. It didn't have to be much—a flick of his hand, a shrug, anything would suffice.

The grayish walls might not have been the most stylish ones and the bed was definitely bordering on uncomfortable, but this place had the first one to feel like a home after Dad died. It would take a while until I felt comfortable somewhere else. Sighing, I closed my eyes for a second longer than necessary and turned around. Hopefully, he would come to his senses.

Ayden sat on the sofa, fiddling with the remote control as I passed behind him. He didn't even look my way—he barely flinched in fact. I had the urge to stop behind him and shout something in his ear just to get a reaction, but I wasn't that stupid. It wouldn't help my situation.

Clutching my bags, I walked away from the only person who truly meant something. Each step carried too much weight, too many unspoken words and repressed emotions, but Ayden wouldn't listen.

"Leave your keys on the way out." Ayden's words felt like hands latching around my throat. It became hard to breathe. Anger and frustration fought the waves of sadness, and I managed to search the pocket of my jeans. The rugged end of the key dug into my palm. I didn't have another one—I had no other home. Straightening my back, I put it down on the small hall table, opened the front door and stepped out into the corridor.

The door shut with a click, and before I had gathered the strength to walk away, I heard footsteps approaching on the other side. Stupidly holding on to the faint hope that he had changed his mind, I waited. My heart jolted in my chest, but it turned into a fearful beat as I heard the unmistakable sound of a lock turning.

The sense of finality left me hollow.

I hauled a cab off the street, threw my bags into the trunk and got into the backseat.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Just drive."

He gave me an odd stare through the rear view mirror.

Slumping against the seat, I got out my phone. I had one person to call, one who probably waited for me to get in touch, but I couldn't call her. Staring at her name made me remember all the good times we'd had together in between the bad. It didn't matter. It would be unfair to both of us to rekindle something which had no future. I tucked the phone away and leaned my forehead against the cold window.

"Drive me to a cheap hotel."

The driver nodded. "Do you have one in mind?"

"No. Anywhere is fine." I stared back at the building, finding the windows alight with warmth. I felt as much anger as regret, and together the two emotions whirled into a strange kind of resignation.

I ended up at a run-down hotel on the outskirts of town. It was a dingy place where the only items that looked remotely clean were the sheets. I had a feeling they had to buy new ones on a regular basis judging by the small vending machine for condoms parked just outside the entrance. It was slightly depressing to know that others used these rooms for sex, but it was the end of the month and my wallet was empty. It was this place or the street.

I threw the bags into a faux leather chair and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. My thoughts kept returning to Ayden, regardless of how much I wanted them to silence. Everything about the situation left me unsettled. He was hurt, and here I was, incapable of helping him.

He clearly needed me but was too bullheaded to let me inside. It was yet another reminder of how far we'd pulled away from each other. Even if I worked up the determination to call him, he likely wouldn't answer. Sending a message was another alternative, but he might delete it before reading when he was in a mood like this one. The only consolation was that we shared a couple of classes. Come morning, I would hopefully see him. By then we would have calmed down enough to discuss what the fuck had happened instead of lashing out like two teenagers.

That thought made me smile. We had fought a lot as teenagers. We had fought about everything and nothing. We had fought with fists and all, but never like this. I had never seen his eyes so full of hatred.

* * * *

I woke up disoriented, twisting and turning in the unfamiliar bed. It smelled faintly of bleach, but underneath it all, there was a definite trace of ruin. My limbs resisted as I stretched—everything ached in one way or another from having been awake throughout most of the night, churning thoughts that took me no further than loneliness.

After a quick, unsatisfying shower I left the awful room with a rumbling stomach. Those hours awake had messed up my patterns, which meant I'd woken up with a raving hunger rather than a normal inclination to eat.

The girl behind the reception desk tried to hide the gum she'd been chewing. She gave me a forced smile. "Good morning."

It didn't sound like she had a very good morning at all. Her strangely cut uniform with brown details certainly didn't help to brighten the mood either. I almost felt sorry for her.

"Is there some breakfast around here?"

The silence held an answer on its own. She attempted another smile after the initial shock had worn off, but it never reached her eyes. Obviously they didn't cater to breakfast guests all that often which was another sign of what kind of establishment this was.

"Yes, we have room with some coffee and stuff. Third door on the left." She pointed down the corridor.

The small room held two tables, eight chairs and something that looked like an attempt at breakfast. A few slices of white bread lay in a basket next to a toaster, but other than that, it seemed like these people had no concept of what a breakfast was. Butter would have been an improvement at this stage.

The first cup I retrieved from the shelf had a thin layer of coffee grounds at the bottom. When I checked the next one, it turned out it had no ear. Seriously. How hard could it be? The entire situation seemed like a bad parody that I'd been forced to watch too many times already. I used the sleeve of my sweater to rub the third cup, even if it looked clean enough.

At least they had coffee, even if it tasted like someone had reused old grounds to save some money. I wasn't impressed, but I had a feeling the rest of my day might be just as bad. My general irritation helped to smother the real pain, which was a strange kind of relief.

* * * *

The large corridors were bustling with activity—people rushed between classes, chatting away with each other or walking while checking their phones. For the first time since I'd started my undergrad, I felt misplaced.

I avoided the places where I thought I might bump into someone I knew, wanting to avoid talking as much as possible. I wouldn't be able to keep my smile in place, and I wasn't up for concerned questions. To my relief, I got to class unnoticed and settled in the back row like I had ever since Ayden left for Florida. Like most days, it was me and the strange girl who flirted awkwardly, but she was less of a threat than most others around me.

"Hi," she greeted with a shy smile.

"Hi."

She must have heard the new depth of reluctance in my tone because her smile faltered. It died so fast that I almost felt bad about it, but I wasn't going to repair the situation. There was no use. I had no interest in her, and I didn't need a new friend. She was a convenient ally at the back of class, someone to save me from having to choose a partner if the professor wanted us to pair up. Nothing more.

As I leaned down to fetch my notebook from my bag, a waft of cologne made me stiffen in my seat. I glanced up and almost wished I hadn't. Ayden sat down just in front of me. Obviously, he hadn't seen me.

My gaze drifted as another guy settled next to him. He flashed a grin toward Ayden that had my pulse running. I didn't really know why I reacted that way, but I did. While anger simmered within me, I watched the guy, noting every irritating detail of his face. He was hot, even I had to admit that. His blue-gray eyes seemed to darken as he looked at Ayden, and his blond hair was carelessly arranged in a way that told me that he'd either woken up that way, or he'd spent hours in front of the mirror to make it look like he just got out of bed.

I was close to jumping from my seat when the guy leaned into Ayden's ear, whispering something that I unfortunately heard.

"Can I have your autograph?"

Ayden flinched, giving the guy one of his famous scowls. Relief settled my unease, but it was quickly quenched when the guy let out a small laugh. He wrote something on a paper, ripped it away from his notebook and held it up to Ayden with an overly confident smirk.

A few seconds passed while the two of them held their positions. Ayden was still leaning away subtly, but his scowl seemed to become less aggressive. The guy simply flicked the piece of paper between his fingers, grinning knowingly.

As Ayden's hand rose to grab the note, some weird instinct kicked in and I did something that I absolutely shouldn't have done. I snatched the small scrap of paper and felt a rare rush of satisfaction as I ripped it into pieces. The frayed edges tickled my fingertips as if to urge me to continue until there was nothing left to tear apart.

"What the fuck are you doing, Cal?" Ayden snapped.

I knew I couldn't back off now. I had to go through with this, regardless of where it would take us.

"We need to talk," I replied.

"Like hell we are." He turned and faced the front of the room where the professor was about to start his lecture.

I wasn't done. Not by a long shot. All that frustration flared alive at once. The unfairness of being thrown out like trash wouldn't pass by without some kind of retaliation. I grabbed his shoulder and kept his hand from reaching for the pen.

"Let me go, Cal!"

The entire classroom went silent as if someone suddenly unplugged the sound. My grip loosened. I didn't want to cause a scene. I felt Ayden relax under my hand, and I took the opportunity to lean in closer.

"I'm sorry, Ay. I really am. Just let me explain?"

"What is there to explain?" he asked, dismissively.

"Just give me a chance, please?" Please wasn't a very common word between us. We took each other for granted like friends did. I could almost hear him thinking, and that gave me some measure of hope, or at least a little trickle of it.

"Fine," he replied, without sounding the least happy about it. That didn't stop me from feeling like I had finally turned things around. We had to talk, even if I wasn't entirely sure of what I would say.