I’m not angry with you. I like the sketches.

I love them.

I read his message over and over again, each time my heart breaking a little more. When exhaustion finally takes over, I plug in my phone and pull the blankets over my head, squeezing my eyes shut tightly and hoping my dreams give me answers.

I’m far from refreshed when the alarm sounds. If it weren’t calculus today, I’d smack the snooze button and go to school late. But I can’t; I know I can’t. My shower is lackluster, and I pull on sweatpants and a giant long-sleeved T-shirt with my boots. My office is closed today, so there’s no internship, no need to dress for anyone.

I set the coffee for a giant cup, more like three cups. I pour it all into a tumbler they gave me at work and take an apple from the fridge, lodging it in my teeth while I grab the rest of my things and head outside. The frost is setting in, and my teeth would be chattering if it weren’t for the apple stuck in my mouth.

“Practicing the apple bob, or is someone trying to roast you?” Cody says, his voice startling me enough to bite hard and drop the apple from my mouth. It rolls down the driveway and is covered with dirt by the time I retrieve it.

He’s sitting on the back hatch of his truck, his feet dangling. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was yesterday, and his eyes look as tired as mine. I smile softly, timidly—I don’t want to scare him away.

“Crap. My apple’s toast,” I say, rolling it over in my fingers.

“Hang on,” Cody says, sliding from his truck and walking over to me, reaching for the apple. “Lemme see it.”

He twists it around in his hands, inspecting it. He rubs some of the skinned part on his sweatshirt, and when he comes to my teeth marks he shrugs and then takes a giant bite out of it.

“Ewwwww, don’t eat dirt!” I say, reaching for his arm and grabbing the apple back to see his damage. He’s eaten the entire part that was covered in debris. I look back at him and he laughs, his mouth full of apple while he chews.

“What?” he says, reaching for my backpack and pulling it over his arm. “It’s just dirt. Ain’t gonna kill me.”

“So gross,” I say, looking over the rest of the apple before I decide he’s right, and I take a bite off his. I’m instantly thinking about how my mouth is, in some strange way, touching his with this act. I feel juvenile even thinking it, but I get a strange thrill nonetheless.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go. I’m running late…in fact, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” I ask, knowing he’s usually in the tutoring lab or class at this time.

“Yeah, I am. I’ve been sitting down here for 30 minutes waiting on your ass,” he teases, walking with my backpack toward his truck. I follow behind, confused and hopeful. “Thought we should just carpool. If that’s okay?”

He stops at the door and holds it open for me; his eyes search mine, waiting for my answer—I can see the same hope in them. In that instant, I know Cody needs me just as much as I need him, and that he’s willing to take whatever he can get. The relief I feel almost makes my legs weak.

I smile as I pass him and get in his truck. He crosses in front of me, and when he gets in, he’s no longer pulling away, forcing distance between us. He’s not sitting close, either, and I know that’s on purpose. And while I’m grateful, I’m also disappointed.

We listen to the radio for the short drive to school, some classic rock station that’s mostly blaring commercials. Minutes later, Cody pulls into his spot by the tutoring labs. I’m getting out, but suddenly he’s pulling the door from me, reaching for my bag. I hand it to him while I slide from the truck seat, and he closes the door behind me. He walks me all the way to class, finally handing me my bag as we enter the classroom. He’s standing still at the top of the room, almost like he’s not sure if he’s staying or going. I look at him for some type of answer, but he just nods forward, urging me to find a seat.

I head to my usual spot, tuck my bag under my seat and turn, expecting him to be gone. Instead, he’s sitting in the very last row. I smile, and he just raises his hand from the desk with a half-wave.

Dr. Rush walks in behind him, and I turn back to the front, not wanting to draw any more attention in this class. The lesson goes quickly, but I don’t understand any of it. I’m scribbling notes, but I’m not focusing. I desperately want to turn to see where Cody is, but I don’t dare. I keep writing, hoping he’ll help me make sense out of it all later today.

When the hour is up, everyone starts packing, and I finally let myself turn to find him. He’s still sitting in the same seat, just where I left him, and he still seems happy. The corner of his mouth curls, his cheek a deep dimple, and I’m reminded of the first time we met.