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“I meant it when I said it,” I yell at him.

“I know you did.” His voice cracks. “Okay. I’m sorry, Kylie. Bye.”

I hang up first, because that’s the only satisfying part of the entire call, and I stand there watching the cars go by. I put my phone in my pocket and press the heels of my hands into my eyes for one second before I remember I have makeup on.

Nash hasn’t moved. He’s still on the curb with his elbows on his knees, looking out at the street like I don’t exist, and that’s honestly fine. I don’t want questions or pity or concern. I’ve never in my life found comfort in somebody else’s silence. I usually want to be asked if I’m okay or at least acknowledged, but Nash is so indifferent that I’m not even worried about having taken that call in front of him.

I watch him flex his knuckles. They’re raw, like he hit more than a body.

“Why did you hit him?” I hear myself ask, and I freeze, because I didn’t give him what he just gave me: no concern, no questions, no acknowledgment. I don’t like this guy. But I need something to take my mind off Evan before I start crying.

Nash doesn’t look up, and for a second, I think he’s going to ignore me, so I take a step toward the door.

“He said something,” Nash says.

I stop. “What did he say?” I’m doing it again. I close my eyes, annoyed with myself.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But it matters enough to hit him.”

He looks at the traffic and doesn’t answer.

“How are you so calm?” The words tumble out. I don’t mean to pry, but curiosity wins. “You were in a fistfight forty minutes ago. You have blood on your shirt. And you’re sitting on a curb like it’s nothing.”

He looks up at me for a second. “I’m not calm,” he says.

Then he stands up and walks straight past me. He goes back inside, and the door bangs shut behind him. I’m left standing on the sidewalk by myself with my ears ringing.

Life really can be lonely.

We leave at midnight. Koda pays for Paige’s pancakes, which she lets him do while pretending to argue about it. Rafe leaves a twenty on the table for a meal he didn’t eat and is out the door before anybody else has a coat on. Kenzie takes the last four napkins out of the dispenser and hands them to Nash on her way past, and he takes them.

The walk back is four blocks, and it’s cold. Koda and Paige are twenty feet ahead of everybody, and she’s laughing at every word he says, like the diner never happened. Kenzie and Bianca are behind them, talking at Rafe, who answers at a rate of about one syllable per block and doesn’t seem to mind them. That leaves me and Nash at the back, six feet apart, walking at the same speed because we live in the same building and there’s only one way to get there.

Neither of us says anything for two blocks.

“Your friend’s something,” he says eventually.

“Which one?”

“The one who used your name.”

“Yeah.”

“You were mad,” he says.

I nod. “I was, yeah.” I still am. I’m mad she told them my business, and I’m mad I’m not going to say anything about it tonight, because she’s up there laughing, and I don’t want to be the reason she stops.

We walk another block.

“Your friends are assholes just like you,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says, not denying it.

“Why is that?” I ask, right as my phone buzzes.

My heart sinks, thinking it’s Evan again. Nash hears it and doesn’t answer me. I pull out my phone and read the screen.