Not much time has pa.s.sed before Zack finds me. I'm sitting on top of Marcus' dryer in the tiny s.p.a.ce designated as the laundry room. I swing my legs in time with the music while my fingernails pick at the label on the box of Tide beside me.

"How long are you going to hide for?" His deep voice comes out of nowhere, startling me. My heel kicks against the dryer.

"Hey," I say, nodding at him.

He comes inside the room and partially closes the door behind him, leaving it cracked for more light and sound to enter. "Want me to make you a plate? Are you hungry?"

"No thanks." I can't meet his gaze. When did Tide and Downy become so interesting?

Zack sighs, letting his long breath stretch between us. Silence follows. Seconds pa.s.s. And then, "Maura, what are you doing here?"

I look up then. I can't read any of the emotion in his voice. When I try to search his face, I come up empty handed anyway. "Marcus invited me?"

He shakes his head. "You know what I mean. What are you doing here in downtown Philly? Hanging at the Rittenhouse Hotel with a dude old enough to be your dad?"

I shrug. "We were seeing each other. Didn't work out." Back to Tide.

Zack slides up next to me on the dryer, scooting me over so I'm sitting half on the washing machine, half on the dryer. His legs swing a bit too. "Sorry to hear that."

I snort. "No you're not."

He laughs then and the sound is sweet like wind chimes and gruff like an engine turning over. "You're right. I'm not. You shouldn't be messing around with old men with wedding bands."

I shrug. He caught that, did he?

"So what gives?" He presses, running a hand over his hair until it collides with his man-bun.

"Did Adrian ever tell you how when we were kids our parents would take us to Wildwood, New Jersey, every summer for a week?"

"Yeah." His brow furrows in confusion.

"We would spend all day in and out of the ocean, boogie-boarding, making sand castles, collecting sea sh.e.l.ls. At night we would go on all the rides at the boardwalk. I loved the spinning tea cups best. You know what his favorite ride was?"

"What?"

"The Ferris wheel." I laugh and it's real for the first time in a long time. It takes me by surprise.

Zack snorts. "Seriously? The Ferris wheel? That's not even a ride."

I shake my head. "It was to him. He said it was like being on top of the world and pausing time. You know, when you get stuck on top? It's like you're the only person who can see everything happening for those few moments until the ride starts again. It's just you and the air and the sky and everything that's happening below you isn't real. There's a disconnect."

"I guess."

I kick my feet out again then let me heels bang, one against the washing machine, one against the dryer. "I'm stuck. And the ride isn't going to start again."

Chapter Thirteen.

Zack

Hearing Maura confess that she feels stuck, disconnected, as if everything around her isn't real, breaks my heart in a way I can't describe. It's like being punched underwater, and I know I can't inhale. Important pieces of her are shattered and the guilt I harbor over Adrian's death erodes my stomach like acid. I open my mouth to respond and then close it, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

I want to help Maura heal, to help her move on. I know Adrian would want more for her, expect more of her. G.o.d, it would kill her if she knew the truth. If she was aware that it was my prescription that he was using when he overdosed. Why couldn't I have handled it differently? Why did I have to go and attack him? I should have got him help, not abandoned him when he needed a friend the most.

But I can be a friend to Maura now. A good friend.

I can do that, can't I? I've already failed Adrian, but I can be there for Maura, step up for her and be the reliable shoulder I should have been for her brother. He would want that for her; he would want someone looking out for her best interests if he couldn't. So I will.

I can still hear the music from the party b.u.mping in the living room. The clink of wine gla.s.ses, the loud laughter as my friends drink just a little too much, the shouted stories of practices, regattas past. Sitting in the laundry room with Maura is like being wrapped up in a coc.o.o.n. The only person I can see, really see, in this moment is her. And sure, she's beautiful; dark curls cover her shoulders, eyes deep with emotions she tries to hide, her lips are slightly parted. The black dress she's wearing rides up her thighs as she kicks her feet, which are bare, her sandals scattered below on the floor. A toe ring sparkles from her left foot. Her toenails are a deep red. She's beautiful.

And she's broken.

I start to put my arm around her, try to comfort her, tell her that of course the ride is going to start again because you can't stay stuck forever, when the door swings wide open.

"What are you doing in here?" Lauren's voice is slightly accusatory, but she flashes a smile to cover it up.

"Just shooting the s.h.i.t," Maura says. "Care to join?" She pats the empty s.p.a.ce on the washing machine.

Lauren's eyes zero in on my thigh pressed against Maura's, our knees rubbing together. "Um, no thanks. I was just looking for Zack." Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. "Marissa was just telling the funniest story about us soph.o.m.ore year." She giggles and it's slightly breathless. "Come on, you've got to hear it." She holds her hand out to me.

I look at Maura. All of the emotions that were swimming in her eyes moments ago are gone. She smiles at me but it's hard. "Can't miss a good story, right?" She hops off the washing machine, slipping her feet back into her sandals. "I got to get going anyway. Nice seeing you, Lauren." Maura catches Lauren in a half-hug. "See you around, Zack," she calls out to me over her shoulder.

By the time Lauren laces her fingers with mine and pulls me off the dryer, placing a quick kiss on underside of my jaw, and we make our way back to the living room, Maura is gone.

That night Lauren's hair spills over my pillow and her lips press kisses along my collarbone as I hover over her. She moans my name, digs her nails into my shoulders, presses her heels into my lower back. She arches into me, tells me how she wants it, and it is so f.u.c.king good I can't see straight. But when the ecstasy subsides and I drift back to my pillow and blink, it's Maura's face and not hers.

And that's f.u.c.ked-up.

Chapter Fourteen.

Maura

Hector takes for f.u.c.king ever to finish. I wish he would get on with it already. His fingers tangle in my hair and he tugs gently. "You like that, baby?" He pumps into me again.

"Mmm," I respond. Looking over his shoulder, I notice the crack in the ceiling is expanding, new threads popping off from the main line. It kind of looks like a b.u.t.terfly if I tilt my head to the right.

"Yeah, Maura. Give it to me." Hector groans.

f.u.c.k me. This was a bad idea. I never should have hit him up tonight. My head isn't in the right place and instead of numbing everything, I just feel bored. Which is somehow worse.

Hector wraps it up in the next few minutes though, and I breathe a sigh of relief which he clearly takes for satisfaction. "Good, right?"

"Yeah, Hector. The best." I tell him, rolling my eyes as I flip onto my stomach and feign sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, Hector's soft snores fill the air. That's definitely my cue to split. Slipping back into my black dress which, at this point, has definitely seen better days, I check my purse to make sure I have my wallet, keys, and cell phone. Then I close the door softly behind me and make my way back to McShain in the dark. For the first time this semester, I'm grateful that Mia, Emma, and Lila aren't here to witness my increasingly regular walks of shame.

I wake Sunday morning to a text message chime.

Unknown: Hey, Maura, it's Zack. Want to go mini-golfing today?

What the h.e.l.l? How did Zack get my number? And why is he asking me to hang out?

Me: Hi. Why?

Kinda rude, I know, but really, what am I supposed to say to that? The old me never would have responded so rudely, but I can't bring myself to care. Instead, I watch as the gray dots shuffle across the bottom of my screen.

Zack: Why not? ;) Really?

Zack: Aid and I used to go. Kinda in the mood for it and no one to go with. Take pity on me?

I laugh at the crying face emoji Zack includes. Should I go? I mean, it's Zack. Hot Zack with a killer body and piercing blue eyes, who keeps witnessing me shame it up with different guys. He'd never be into me. At least, not this version of me. He's from like Nebraska or somewhere equally wholesome. A square state. I snort to myself. Who even goes mini-golfing these days? And why wouldn't Adrian tell me about this little tradition of his and Zack's? Probably too embarra.s.sed!

Me: Sure. 1:00 PM?

Zack: I'll pick you up then.

I snuggle back into my comforter. I'm going mini-golfing with Zack. A flutter of something I can't place beats in my chest for a moment. And then the strangest thing happens. Before I can stop it, I smile.

Even though I'm not one to try and impress a guy, I do take extra time getting ready for my friend-date with Zack. Lame, I know. But still, I do it. If Lila or Emma were here, I'd have the most perfect outfit already laid out and waiting for me on my bed. If Mia were here, she would offer a gentle smile and an understanding that transcends my feelings altogether. It would feel supportive though. Mia is nothing if not supportive. I could call them. I know I could. Especially Emma. She's in the same time zone as me, but I don't want to. As if telling them somehow would turn mini-golf with Zack into more than it actually is. And I can't do that.

Because it's nothing.

Still, I tame my long, wild curls into beach waves that hang nearly to the small of my back. I add a second coat of mascara to my lashes. I opt for lip gloss over Chapstick. Okay, so nothing major, but for me, this is as good as primping gets.

After trying on and discarding most of my closet, I finally settle on a pair of well-worn ripped jeans that hug my a.s.s spectacularly and a dangerously low V-neck black tissue tee. I tuck in the front of the shirt on the side so it hangs casually. Adding a pair of stud earrings and a long necklace I swiped from Lila, I slide into sandals and am ready to go.

Checking myself out in the floor-length mirror on the back of my door, I study my reflection. I look good. I mean, I know that I'm physically in shape and have some decent facial attributes and all that, but it's more than that. My cheeks are flushed, nearly glowing. My eyes are bigger, brighter than they have been in a long, long time. I almost look happy.

I scowl.

Just then my phone chimes with a text from Zack alerting me that he is outside. Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes at my reflection and grab my purse from its permanent home on the floor. Then I leave the safety of my room for a non-date with a guy that makes me secretly wish it was.

Zack's gray Land Rover glints in the sunshine as I walk down the path leading from my dorm to the parking lot. The windows are open, music softly floating out, his arm slung casually out the window, fingertips tapping a beat I can't discern against the door. He waves when he sees me, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

d.a.m.n. He's s.e.xy. And yet I never noticed it before. Not until recently. Not until after Adrian. I wonder why that is?

I lift my fingers in a half-wave and try to lessen the sashay of my hips that beg for his attention, for him to notice me, to want me. Ugh. This is Adrian's best friend!

He reaches over the center console and opens the pa.s.senger door for me and I nearly swoon. He pa.s.sed The Door Test. Just like in A Bronx Tale. Mine and Adrian's favorite movie. If this was any other guy, you know, not Adrian's best friend-and if Adrian was in fact actually alive-we would discuss this gesture at length. And then watch the movie, eating a bag of mixed cheddar and caramel popcorn with Skittles thrown in like we always used to.

I shake my head slightly to clear my mind of the past. Taking a deep breath, I climb up into the SUV and square my shoulders. Turning toward Zack, I say, "Hey." A suitable greeting for a non-date.

And then he smiles.

And my insides melt.

Chapter Fifteen.

Zack

The sight of Maura leaves me temporarily speechless as she walks over to my SUV from her dorm room. She looks good. Real good. Like I want to wake up next to her tomorrow and cook her breakfast in bed good.

s.h.i.t, I clench my fingers into a fist. This isn't supposed to happen. I can't like Maura, be into Maura of all girls. That's almost as bad as wanting Amelia, Adrian's ex-girlfriend from freshman year.

With each step Maura takes, a thin sliver of her black bra shows as the neckline of her T-shirt dips. Her jeans are skintight, painted onto her perfectly sculpted body. Her hair is long, the color of midnight, and I try real f.u.c.king hard not to imagine it wrapped around my forearm, fisted in my fingers. But it's tough.