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one person to carry on their back. When I met Tessa a year ago, she was so different. Her shell was the same, a beautiful blonde with pretty eyes, a soft voice, and a high GPA. The first time I talked to her, I felt like I had met the female version of myself. We immediately bonded over being the first two to arrive in the lecture hall our first day of college. Tessa and I got closer as her relationship with Hardin developed. I watched as she fell in love with him, and he fell harder, and they both fell apart.
    I watched them rip each other apart and then stitch each wound back together. I watched them become one another’s everything, then their nothing, then everything again. I had trouble picking sides during the war. It wasn’t without causalities. It was just too complicated and messy, so now I’m taking my cue from Bella Swan and staying neutral, like Switzerland.
    Yikes, I’m referencing Twilight . I need caffeine. Pronto.
    When I walk into the kitchen, Tessa is sitting at the small table with her phone in her hand.
    â€œMorning.” I nod to her and switch on the Nespresso machine. I’ve become somewhat of a coffee snob since working at Grind. It helps to have a roommate who’s equally obsessed. Not as picky, but even more addicted than I am.
    â€œMorning, sunshine,” Tessa says distractedly, at first barely glancing up from her phone, but then her eyes go straight to the gash above my eyebrow and concern takes over her expression. After rubbing some Neosporin on it this morning, I was happy to be able to omit the Disney Band-Aid.
    â€œI’m fine, but damn, that was embarrassing.” I grab a pod of Brazilian espresso and push it into the machine. The counter space in here is minimal, and the thing takes up half the room between the off-white fridge and the microwave, but it’s a necessity.
    Tessa smiles, biting her lip. “A little,” she agrees, and covers her mouth to stifle her amusement.
    I wish she would laugh . . . I want her to remember how it feels.
    I glance over at her miniature coffee cup. It’s empty.
    â€œNeed a refill? Do you work today?” I ask.
    She sighs, picks up her phone, then puts it back down. “I do.” Her eyes are stained with angry red lines again. Bloodshot from the tears soaked into her pillowcase. I didn’t hear crying last night, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t. She’s slightly better at hiding her feelings lately. Or so she thinks.
    â€œYes to both. Work. And want more coffee. Please,” she clarifies with a half smile. Then she clears her throat and her eyes fall to the table as she asks, “Do you know which days Hardin will be here yet?”
    â€œNot yet. We’re still a few weeks away, so he hasn’t told me. You know how he is.” I shrug my shoulders. If anyone knows Hardin, it’s her.
    â€œYou’re sure this is okay, right? Because you know if you aren’t, I can have him stay at a hotel or something,” I offer.
    I would never want her to be uncomfortable in her own apartment. Hardin would fight me over this, but I don’t care.
    She forces a smile. “No, no. It’s fine. This is your place.”
    â€œAnd yours,” I remind her.
    I put the first cup of espresso into the freezer for Tessa. She’s doing this thing lately where she only drinks cold coffee. My suspicion is that even something as simple as a warm cup of coffee reminds her of that boy.
    â€œI’m going to pick up extra shifts at Lookout. I’m almost done with training anyway. They’re letting me do brunch and dinner today.”
    My chest aches for my friend, and for once, my loneliness doesn’t seem so bad compared to the alternative of her shattered heart.
    â€œIf you change your mind—”
    â€œI won’t. I’m fine. It’s been—what?” She shrugs. “Four months
or something?”
    She’s lying through her teeth,