"Come on," Dad interrupts jovially, "the Foxes just played their last game, Callum's last marching season is over. The boy wants to get wasted."

"What?! Can I come?" Christian pleads. "I want to party."

"Uh, no," I say flatly. "And I always drink responsibly." Okay, sometimes I lie.

Mom hums in disbelief and puts an arm around Christian. "Come on, Chris. We'll leave Callum to his celebration—he'll be home as soon as exams are over. Cal, let me squeeze you."

I hug each person of my family goodbye. I return to the backstage area and help transport all the percussion equipment back to the Music Department. I give my address to band members who forgot it. By the time I turn onto my street, I should be feeling like I usually do—tiredness slicking off me like water, effervescent and ready to drink, dance and socialize. There are colorful strobe lights illuminating the windows, people crowded onto the porch and in the front yard, and thudding music pulsing down the street.

Instead I feel hollow. Quen is going to a different after-party with Krista (who does like him back, turns out) and some friends from her residence hall. Bay's opting out. Basic self-preservation recommends that I don't like her more than she likes me, but at this point I can't even stop the feeling of intense longing that sweeps over me. I miss her even though I saw her tonight, kissed her goodbye. I want to wrap myself around her, curl up in bed, and fall asleep.

It's not enough, not coherent or intentional enough to make anything change between us, but that's all I know.


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Callum: what's ur exam schedule

Bay sends me a screenshot of her timetable, four exams within three days.

Callum: do you need stress relief ?

Following the end of marching season, the entire campus falls into a stress pit in advance of final exams. The weather is miserable, a five-day stretch of rain keeping everyone hunkered inside over their textbooks and laptop screens, furiously submitting assignments and revising lecture content. Bay already warned me that she wouldn't be available much over winter, so I'm trying to find some time to see her again before I leave campus.

Isabella: stress relief will take a full night of studying away and stress me out even more

I don't want to see Bay just for sex, but I don't know how to word what I really want. Do you want to hang out? Do you want to watch a movie? Clearly, she's busy, and her answer will be an immediate no and then I won't be able to ask again without pushing against her wishes and against her studies.

Callum: after exams then?

Isabella: maybe idk

I can read tone. Now that marching season is over, she needs no outlet for the attraction she feels to me, thus she's not dying to see me anymore. She has more important things to focus on, and I'm the least of her priorities. Whenever I post Instagram Stories, I check the viewer list for her account but she never watches a single one. Maybe she goes on a social media cleanse to concentrate during finals week.

Eventually, after finals are over, waiting for Bay to start a conversation breaks my willpower. Damn it, I cave, I message first. Again.

Callum: are u free this weekend?

Isabella: sorry, picked up extra shifts

Throwing my phone onto the bed, I smother my frustration with a deep sigh. After this semester, campus officially goes on winter break. I'm going home on Sunday. Bay, with no family, will stay on campus like she always does. A crazy part of me wants to open my own home to her, invite her round to have dinner with my family—but I can so clearly see her unimpressed face in my head, her response pieced together from all the conversations we've had about birthdays and foster care and casual sex.

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