I knew the previous night hadn't been a bad dream, even before I opened my eyes. My lumpy mattress was enough to make the entire ordeal real. I stayed curled in a ball with my eyes closed long after waking. I knew I should stir and call Tess, but I couldn't unfurl myself. The simple act of extending my legs would let the cold, harsh air in, and with it, my bitter reality would be closer, unavoidable. I waited until my muscles grew stiff; the ache spread from my arms and legs up to my spine and surrounded my head in a dull throb. Only then and with a heavy sigh did I break, spilling open like the gooey ooze of an egg.

In a moment of misplaced hope, I checked my phone. There were texts from Tess and Tim, but nothing from Sam. I should've responded to Tess then. That's what an unselfish friend would've done, but I scrolled through to the workgroup chat and asked if anyone wanted my shift. It was Sunday, so the allure of time and a half caused an immediate frenzy of responses. I let them hash it out amongst themselves in favor of flopping lifelessly back to my bed.

It took me another hour and a shower to respond to Tess with a half-hearted, "I'm fine." I was technically fine. I was healthy, aside from the self-induced headache. Even in text, she could see through it.

"Glad to hear you're fine; brunch room 302." Tess' response felt curt even in text.

It wasn't a question; it was a directive. I'd heard rumors of assertive Tess from Tim but never experienced the wrath firsthand. I weighed my options before realizing I was just too tired to argue. So, I begrudgingly replaced my sweatpants for jeans but refused to give up the warmth of my oversize hoodie. I flipped the hood up and pulled on my coat before plodding outside into the frosty December air.

I pulled out my phone as the elevator doors closed on the lobby hotel. Suddenly, panic rose within me at the thought of Tess's questions. I knew she'd try to help, but my mind was wrung out, and the idea of further twisting didn't entice me. There was only one option for quiet: with the loudest person in the room.

"You still in Portland?" I texted with no greeting.

"Yes," he immediately responded. I knew he would.

"You on the 3rd floor too?"

"303; I just cracked the door for you." Billy always made everything easy for me.

The elevator doors rattled open, and I followed the sign to the corner, room 303. Just as expected, the door was ajar. I pushed it open to find Billy on the end of the bed, quietly strumming. It was as though no time had passed. Billy, hotel room, strumming. He didn't look up as I shirked my jacket off and slumped to the loveseat; he just continued to strum absently. For once, he played in the manner that I hummed, with no connective song. It was unusual, a mix of indecision and tuning at best.

Billy must have been on the loveseat when I called; his half-full teacup sat on the coffee table inches from my knee. I picked it up and downed the second half, savoring the chamomile's sweetness and the peppermint's coolness. I set the teacup back down on the table with a rattle and let out a sigh that it was depleted. As if he could read my mind, Billy set a fresh cup in front of me and fell heavily next to me. He pulled a tin forward and popped the lid to reveal Mary's shortbread. Without a word, I grabbed a square and nibbled as I watched the steam dance from the teacup.

There was an extended echo of silence as I continued to watch the steam on the teacup while Billy picked at the tough skin of his thumb. I urged myself to think of anything, but all I could do was watch the steam. It reminded me of the fire dancer logo of the Dave Matthews Band.

"I don't care for Dave Matthews Band." My words cut through the room like an elephant stampede.

Still, there was no startle from Billy. "Noted," he murmured without lifting his eyes from his thumb.

The steam and its call to DMB aggravated me. I picked up the cup and gulped down the contents as a manner of death of the thought. Hastily, I put the cup back down with another clang.

"I've been prepping for the job search." I began again without warning. "Writing my resume and the base of my cover letter. Sam got me some interview question samples from his company's recruiter." I didn't lift my eyes to Billy, and he didn't look up from his thumb. "One question is what motivates me." I sat back into the plushy cushions of the loveseat. "I don't have an answer."

My anecdote lingered in silence for a few minutes.

"Is fulfilling expectations an answer to that?" I pondered aloud to myself. "I go to work because I'm scheduled. I go to classes because they're happening. I'm just following the plan created for me."

"Why did you go to college?" Billy's tone was casual, ebbing on board.

"Because it was expected."

"Why did you choose English as your major?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Because it seemed easy."

"Why did you choose USM?" Billy continued asking questions as though he didn't register the answers, but I knew better.

"Because I like Portland."

"How did you know you wouldn't like someplace else just as much?"

"I didn't."

He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees, letting a hand slip to the back of his head as his fingers tangled in his hair. "Do you get bored with doing what's expected all the time?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in my voice.

"Are you in love with Sam?" There was no change to his casual inflection.

"Yes." Again, there was no hesitation.

"But you're here because..."

"Because he didn't call." I finished Billy's sentence for him.

"And if he had?"

"I'd be there with him." I picked at my thumb in a mimic of Billy's earlier blasé manner. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Because it's easy to hide next to me."

It was an affirmation of how much Billy knew about the world around him and how it and I related to him. I'd spent so much time worrying about the bright lights hitting me; I hadn't realized that they were never on me when the lights were always on the person next to me. It was easy to hide beside Billy, tucked safely in his shadow. No one would see the unknown face next to the stature of a growing legend. In the same thought, the loneliness of being isolated in a spotlight tugged at my attention, but I pushed the idea away for another time.

"Does it hurt? Being near me?" I needed to know if I still caused him pain, if the wounds were still open.

"Yes, I hope it never stops hurting. As long as it hurts, then I know I'm still human, living, and breathing."

"Will you tell me about Sarah?" It was a quiet question, and I expected the answer.

"No, she's mine, just like Sam is yours." Billy's unwillingness to discuss his girlfriend revealed how serious the relationship was.

I smiled to myself; he answered as I hoped. The wound may still be open, but it wasn't a focus. I wasn't his focus. I was a memory that he tended to like a garden, but nothing more than that.

"Are we friends, Billy?"

"I hope so, but I'm not sure. Last night made me," he reflected on his words for a moment before adding, "pause."

I nodded as I tried to see the evening from Billy's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell him who I was?" Billy asked, looking at me for the first time.

"It didn't feel fair."

"To whom?"

"To me," I admitted.

"Why wasn't it fair to you?" He sat back now, the rigidity easing from him.

"I didn't want to explain myself; my choice."

"Would he have asked you to explain?"

"I don't know, but if I gave him a chance." I didn't want to admit the thought.

"He may disappoint you," Billy answered for me.

"Yeah. I didn't want you to somehow reflect on me. I haven't done anything; I may never do anything except follow the map."

"Don't do that."

I shyly met Billy's eyes. "Don't do what?"

"Condemn yourself to be mundane before you've even started."

"But isn't that what I've been running to? A quiet life?"

"I hope not." He let out a throaty laugh. "I'd have fought harder if I'd thought that. You can have a simple life and still be extraordinary."

I said nothing; I just held my gaze on him.

He tugged on his hair under my scrutiny. "In my experience, the strength of character, empathy, and willingness to fight for what you want are rare traits. People claim to have all three, even genuinely think they have them, but when pressed, they yield on each to get ahead."

"I've taken an easy path, an expected path."

"Expected and easy aren't synonyms, Lil. You're an English major; you should know that. Sometimes the hardest map to follow is the one you're handed."

"I don't know where I'm going," I admitted.

"Sure, you do. You're headed home to that little cottage with the porch facing west so you can watch the sunset."

"That's not a life; it's a hope."

He let out another laugh. "Isn't life hope? It is for me. Every one of my goals started with the smallest amount of hope and then grew."

"I hope Sam calls," I admitted.

"See, you're using hope wrong. That's a wish. Wishes are easy; just make it happen."

"I need to give him time," I countered.

"Agreed, but you don't need to wish for him to call. When or if the time is right, you'll find him."

"How are you so confident about this stuff suddenly?" I poked him with my toe.

"Because there once was a time when I had the same worries about you. But, over and over, we've always found our way back to each other."

"That's because you keep showing up in Maine," I shot, feeling more like myself.

"Hey, you crashed my show, darling." He flashed his dimples at me as he tugged on my ankle.

"Under duress."

"Face it, Lil, we're stuck with each other. Life's going to keep bringing us together."

"Do you think anything will ever change that?" I slumped onto his side as he tucked an arm around me.

"I sure hope not." He kissed the top of my head and murmured "strawberries" to himself. Then with a sigh, he added, "you already shattered my heart; I don't think there is much else to survive."

I stiffened at his assertion. "Did I, Billy? Did I break your heart?"

"Shattered it and ground the pieces into my skin, Lil."

"It's not funny," I pulled away from him.

"I'm not joking. You damn near killed me. I loved you with everything I had. I was planning a whole life around you, around us. And you were planning a whole life without me. I've been through break-ups before, but I thought you were it."

"And now?"

"And now I see my life with you isn't what I'd planned. It's not romance and passion, but it's still love and care. You care for me; I know that. I always knew that, but it took me some time to see that you did what you did to protect me. I get it; if we'd continued even a day more, if I'd fallen even the slightest bit more in love with you, it would've killed me. You were right; it would have been total destruction if you didn't leave when you did."

"I'm sorry." I sunk back into him.

"I know. I'm still pretty mad at you, but you had a shitty weekend, so I figured I'd take it easy on you."

All the relationships in my life needed to be mended. The thought resonated with a heavy sigh.

"Anything I can do?" Billy offered in his low murmur that vibrated in his chest.

"Mmhmm, dance video."

"Excuse me?" He let out a laugh.

"I think you should put out a dance song complete with a jazz-hands-filled music video."

"Just when I think you're going to zig, you zag,"

"Oh, and can you tell Tess and Tim that we have lunch plans?" I absently added.

"Do we? Have lunch plans?" He let out a laugh.

"Yeah, room service and a movie? I don't want to relive the gory details of last night, and I feel like that's what Tess will do."

"She means well," he offered.

"I know; you just know me better."

Billy sighed. "If Sam called you tonight and wanted to talk, would you tell him you spent the day with me?"

"Of course; you're my friend. He already knew that's what we were working towards."

"He did?" Billy skeptically looked at me.

"The first time we met was when I was on the plane to see you last summer. I told him everything. We'd broken up and were trying to be friends. The only thing I didn't tell him was that you were the Billy Collins." I sat up a looked at Billy. "I don't hide you, Billy. Like any of my friends, I talk about you. I just don't tell people what you do."

Billy heaved himself up from the loveseat.

"Where are you going?" I felt a panic rise in me.

"I'm going to tell Tim and Tess I got this." He headed to the door, but paused as his hand hit the doorknob. "Hey, Lil." I lifted my eyes to meet his. "We're friends," he confirmed. And with that, he slipped out the door.