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My thumb hovers over her name, close enough that one tap would start the call. It would open us back up after all this time. Because if there ever was a reason to go back there again, it's this one.

Inside the apartment someone shouts my name. A round of cheers follows, and the song changes as the music grows louder.

But out here in the hallway, everything's still. It's vacant and quiet—just me and the glow from my phone in my hand.

I look at the screen, her name—the opportunity to talk to her—staring back at me.

For a second—just one—I almost press it. My fingertip comes so close to connecting us again. And I almost push past the thoughts that I can't. I shouldn't.

Why would I want to?

That she's busy. That she's moved on.

She doesn't deserve it.

But before I can, the screen goes dark. And once again, any sign of her vanishes completely.

The door rips open behind me, and I whip around to find Scottie leaning against the frame. "You alright, man?" he asks.

"Yeah." I force a laugh, shoving my phone back into my pocket. "I'm good."

He tips his chin up slowly—skeptically. "Alright, well… you comin'? Everyone's waiting for ya in here."

I paint a closed-lipped smile. "I'm coming," I say.

He reaches out and smacks my shoulder before turning back inside.

I follow, knowing in some ways he's right. People are waiting—it's time to celebrate.

But the truth is, he's just as wrong.

Because not everyone's waiting.

Because not everyone's here.

Lenny

That Same Night

"Wait… Mage Hollow. Isn't that where you're from?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, stacking a box of gloves on top of the gauze pads and saline flushes already piled in my hands. "Why?"

Dylan swipes up on her phone screen as she leans against the supply closet shelf. "I'm on Twitter, and—"

"Any chance you could stop doom scrolling long enough to grab me that sanitizer?"

She peers up at me, moving nothing at first except her eyes. "Okay… grouchy." She reaches beside her and pulls a bottle from the highest shelf.

"Sorry," I say, balancing the supplies in one hand to free up the other for the spray. "I'm just trying to restock these rooms so I can get the hell out of here. I have a date tonight, and I definitely still smell like that guy from room seven."

"Yeah, wait!" Dylan straightens, finally giving me her full attention. "Why did he smell like… like—"

"Like noodle soup?"

Her face lights up. "Yes!"

A shiver rips through me as I adjust my grip on the box at the bottom of the pile. "I don't know, but it was seeping from his pores, and now I'm pretty sure it's in my hair."