She pushes the door open and plops on the nearest bench.
I sit next to her, resting my head on her shoulder. "I don't want to fight."
"Me either," she says.
"I'm sorry I've been distant."
"It's okay," she says. "I have a lot of stuff to deal with the next two weeks. Then it's finals. We can meet up after that and watch some dumb movie and eat too much popcorn." Kara shifts so she's looking at me. "If you want to talk, I'm here. Any time, day or night, okay?"
I nod.
"Is there any chance you're going to call me?"
"It's possible."
Kara squeezes me. "Promise anyway."
"I promise."
* * *
By the weekend, my concentration is back. I spend all day Saturday studying. It's about time for a break when there's a knock on the door.
My heart thuds against my chest. For a split second, I'm face to face with that awful feeling—hope.
I push it away. There's no way it's Miles.
I get up and open the door. It's Kara.
She brandishes a takeout bag. "I brought sushi. I know it's not as good as a hot, rock star boyfriend, but there are about four orders of salmon sashimi." She sets the bag on the counter and fixes two plates.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"You're my best friend. I need a break. You're moping. Adds up to us going out." She looks at me. "Did you eat dinner?"
"It's still early."
"It's almost ten." She sets a can of green tea on the counter and motions to it. "You have soy sauce?"
"In the fridge. But you know I eat my sashimi plain."
"Yes, but I'm not as hardcore as you are." She grabs soy sauce and drowns her sushi in it.
"Shouldn't we talk or something?"
"You want to talk about Miles?"
I pick up a piece of salmon sashimi with my chopsticks. "Not really."
"Do you want to think about him?"
"Never again."
She smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that." She grabs a fork and stabs a California roll. "Because I have the perfect way to turn off your brain cells. Alcohol optional."
"I'm terrified."
"You'll like it. Promise."
