Cassie waits by the front window when I come through the door. Will's just pulling out of our driveway and I haven't even gotten my shoes off when she calls out from the living room window where she's been standing waiting for me. "Who was that?"

I slowly take off my jacket and hang it on the hook. This is the last thing I need. After a day around people, I just want to be alone for a little while to recharge my batteries. My mind slips back to the car ride home and Will's question: "So, you're friends with Nick now?" He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but it came across as one to me.

And no, I'm not friends with Nick, but he may also not be the enemy I thought he was. I tried to explain that to Will but walked away with the sense that there is definitely something off about the 'friendship' between those two.

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for another awkward conversation as I enter the living room. "Just someone from school."

I throw myself on the sofa, its loud squeak of protest showing, like everything else in the house, it's seen better days.

Cassie stares down at me with questioning eyes.

"He's the same guy you and Jenny pressured into driving me home the other day," I say, and hope it will be enough to satisfy her. "He offered again, and I accepted. No big deal."

She comes to stand beside me and waits until I move my legs to make room for her. Once I do, she drops down. "You never take rides from guys. Why this one all of a sudden?"

"I usually have my car, don't I?"

I'm being unreasonable, but right now I don't care. "You said you needed the car to run errands. He saw me making my way home and offered." I leave out how she said she'd take me to school and pick me up and I told her it wasn't necessary because I'd get a lift with a girlfriend.

"Hmm." She crosses her hands on her lap and threads her fingers. "This isn't like you." She says it the same way I imagine she talks to the oldies at work who refuse to eat their mashed potatoes. 'This isn't like you, Mrs. Smith. You usually love your potatoes.'

I can't deal with this today. I jump from the couch and go to the stairs. "I've got tons of work to do. Eat without me."

When I pad down the stairs later wearing my white robe, my hair wrapped in a towel, and enter the kitchen, Cassie has two settings for dinner laid out as if she knew I'd change my mind. Something has changed since I went upstairs. She still wears her tight leggings and pink sweatshirt, but her face looks different with her eyes lined in black and lids dusted with gold. Her lips are a dramatic red. I remember now that she said she was meeting with girlfriends from Bantry tonight for drinks.

"I hoped you would change your mind," she says with an affectionate smile.

I frown as I move to the fridge to get the drinks. I thought I was fine after the shower, but the sight of her dressed to leave again brings my annoyance to the surface. We haven't spent one evening together since I joined her in Ludford, but she has time for her friends.

Guilt fills my chest and I breathe out, closing my eyes, feeling like a jerk because Cassie never does fun things for herself, and the one day she does, I wallow in self-pity because it doesn't include me.

"Sorry about before."

"I understand what it's like to have a bad day," she says in a gentle voice. "What happened to your clothes?"

I don't want to get into it and talk about how Frank spilled his slushie on me. "I dropped my drink at school," I say, not trusting myself to make eye contact.

"Since when do you drink Gatorade at school?" she asks, clearly not believing me.

I pour myself water and some orange juice for her before I settle into my seat and draw my legs to my chest.

Cassie gets that I'm not going to answer and says, "We have enough dinners for a week." She places a plate of roasted chicken breast, rice, and vegetables on the table before me. "There's lasagna, stew, and a big container of salad."

"You could have waited." The words come out more accusing than I meant them to. I balance the meal on my knees and take a piece, letting my teeth sink into the juicy meat. "I would have helped."

"I know," she says, unbothered by my tone. "But school keeps you busy. This way we can spend tomorrow going through boxes. I unpacked the rest of mine today. And I paid some bills and went grocery shopping." When she sips at the juice, she grimaces and lowers the glass to the table. "I think this may have gone bad."

She pauses and a quiet, uncomfortable silence settles between us. When she speaks, my shoulders slump at the topic. "I hear you had lunch with Jenny's nephew yesterday."

My throat goes dry. Just like that, I've lost my appetite. I wish people would stop doing this to me. Lately, it's as if I never get to finish a meal without someone spoiling it.

"Jenny spotted you going into Dante's." She picks up her glass and takes another tentative sip of her juice before grimacing again and pushing it away to the center of the table.

"It's nothing." I force myself to chew and swallow the meat that's gone dry in my mouth.

"And yet, here he is, dropping you off at home. Is he the one who drove you this morning?"

I nod.

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

"We're just friends."

"Friends?" It's one word, but it's laced with her judgment and skepticism.

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Men and women can't be friends," she says. "You know that, Leila. It's not possible."

"What are you talking about?" The words come out ruder than I intended, but come on, she's being a total hypocrite. "What about George and Tony?"

"That's different." Her face flushes. "We aren't friends. We all met online and we study together since we're all planning to take the MCAT. It's not like I'm going to lunch or clubs with them."

She waits for the emotion in the room to ratchet down a few degrees before she begins again. "Jenny showed me a picture. Will's cute. But when you have two attractive and single people, it's impossible," she says in a persuasive voice. "Life just doesn't work that way."

When I refuse to make eye contact, her voice softens and I have to lean in to hear. "What happens if he wants more than friendship?"

"He doesn't." 

I say the words, but deep down, I realize they're not true. Every guy wants more.

[Author's Note:

Thank you to everyone who stops by to read this book. 

I appreciate all the comments as they help me to know if the story is being told the way I intended and all the votes as they help this novel to be seen by other readers.]