7:13 PM

We sit cross-legged on my bed. Empty bags of hot fries and cups of ramen between us. He's laughing at me –head tilted back and eyes swimming. I just told him I missed real Thanksgiving dinner. He just reminded me that even tofu turkeys still have feelings.

"I do miss my mom's mashed potatoes though," he says, agreeing that this meal has its pitfalls.

"This isn't so bad though," I bite my lip.

"No. It's not." He agrees, still laughing. He stretches his legs out so they're on either side of me. I'm still cross-legged between them. His foot knocks over the Styrofoam noodle cup and it falls to the floor.

"Ah! Shit!" I try to grab it up.

"Shit. Five second rule," Brooks says, beating me to the floor and scooping the noodles back into the cup. He laughs. "Floor can't be that dirty."

"Eh," I shrug. "Sure we've eaten worse."

"Well, maybe we are peasants." Brooks leans back on the bed.

"Peasants it is. Cheers." I nod by half-empty bottle of milk at him.

"Almost time for wine," Brooks says, holding up his bottle.

"In the kitchen next to the fridge. Go ahead," I nudge Brooks off the bed.

"Ems," he whines.

"I'll time you," I tease. He rolls his eyes and rolls off the bed. He's in the kitchen when I shout to get glasses.

"My Lady." He holds out the wine.

"Who needs fancy family parties with dressy outfits and a two hour drive when you have all this?" I ask, raising my hands at our domain.

"Not me," he smiles. "This dinner is just what I wanted. And the company is considerably better than last year."

"Just last year?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"OK. Maybe the last decade," he says, rolling his eyes. He takes the Styrofoam cup from my hands and puts it on the bed next to me. It's going to tip.

"Yea, right." I shrug.

"What do you mean 'yea, right'?" Brooks says, searching my face.

"I just mean I'm sure you had a great time the last 10 years, that's all." I shrug. My palms feel sweaty.

"And you didn't?" He asks.

"Hey, that's not what I meant," I tease.

"I know what you meant," Brooks says. His eyes are suddenly cold. He turns away from me. Shit.

"Oh my god. What is your issue?!" I shout.

"MY issue?" He spins to looks at me. Arms folded. Pissed.

"YES! ISSUE! You have to ruin everything, always. It's like you can't not!" I roll my eyes.

"I ruin everything? ME! Are you kidding me, Em? You're the one ruining this right now." He jumps from my bed like it's on fire and paces my room.

"Me?" I laugh in his face. Bro, for real.

"You just LOVE reminding me about what happened. How are we supposed to move on?" He screams.

"How are we supposed to move on? MOVE ON?" I repeat. The Big Q. What does he mean move on?

"Yes, move on with our lives. Move past it. It was TEN FUCKING YEARS ago! A decade for fuck's sake! And we are here now!" Brooks is low key screaming again.

"Yea," I say. "We are here now. But what's that mean? It sure as shit doesn't mean we've moved on. I can't just fucking forget it, Jay."

The foil of the hot fries bag crinkles beneath my knee when I move toward him.

"Why do you say it like that?" He looks at me, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Like I'm going to forget it? Like it somehow hurts you more?"

"Um. Because it fucking does!" I almost shout. He scoff-laughs.

"That's not fair. You can't act like you know how I feel. It doesn't have to be a contest!" Brooks is yelling back at me.

"No, it doesn't," I agree. "But if it were one, you'd be losing."

I try to force a smile. I want him to laugh and come back over here and kiss me on the hot fries foil. I want to put this fight aside until tomorrow. Preferably forever. Or at least until he's far enough away it's done via text like the true millennial I am.

"Is this fun for you? Is that what this is?" He looks ...hurt. Weird flex, but OK.

"Yes. Course it's been fun. I didn't hang around all summer because it wasn't fun." I roll my eyes. Really pulling for him to drop this.

"I mean this. Torturing me! Is it fun?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I laugh. I move to him and put my arm on his.

"You're the ridiculous one." He shrugs me off and looks away again. It's like if he looks at me it will give some huge secret away.

"I HATE when you're like this!" I shout.

"Like what?"

"This. Tortured." I raise my eyebrow.

"Oh, you're very funny," he says, and rolls his eyes.

"Ironic considering you're the joke," I sigh.

"Maybe it's just you. You do this to me. Torture me for what happened."

"Oh, MY bad. I sort of remember you inviting yourself here for Thanksgiving."

"Whatever."

"Oh yea, your answer to everything. I forgot about that!" I yell. My throat is starting to close up. Little shit's about to betray me.

"How?" He finally looks at me, intense. "You don't forget anything."

"Whatever." I fold my arms to mimic his.

I scooch back to my dent on the bed. Brooks grabs his phone from my dresser and shoves it in his pocket. He crosses the room and slams the door behind him.

I refuse to chase after him.