The sky outside the coffee shop window is inky, and the wet asphalt glistens under the amber streetlights. I'm on my third espresso. The barista has sent at least ten sympathetic looks my way, surely thinking my date stood me up. 

She's not my date. Just someone I need to convince to move in with me. No big deal.

I avert my gaze to the almost cold, dark liquid in my cup, and as I take a sip, Elena's name flashes across the screen of my phone for the fifth time. The coffee tastes like bile now.

I barely have time to flip the gadget over when the bell at the entrance of the coffee shop chimes. 

Tara steps inside, and relief threatens to drown me. She came, after all. Now I only have to be less of a jerk so she'd agree to room with me. 

Sitting straighter, I wait for her to come up to my table. She makes a few steps forward and stops. It's when I realize she's not alone. A dark-haired guy is behind her, and irritation bubbles up within me. 

She could've told me she was bringing her...boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Is he the reason she made me wait?

He mumbles something to Tara, who beams and nods. Instead of approaching me, he turns into the narrow hallway on my left where the 
bathrooms are.

"Bast," Tara says, sitting across from me.

Before an apology leaves her mouth, I speak.

"Who's he, Barbie? Another one of your baby boys?"

It's the lack of sleep paired with the frustration waiting for her caused. Those aren't the words I planned on saying, but it's too late — Tara's cheeks grow pink, and she swallows, glancing in the direction the guy she came with had gone.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Another one because someone like me has lots of them. You know what? I think I'd better go before you insult me some more. Good luck looking for a roommate."

Tara's friend returns and stands by her side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

Tara jumps to her feet and turns to him. "Let's go, Mav. I can take you home now."

My eyes stay glued to Tara's back as she dashes to the door. 

When they refocus on her friend, I see what I didn't before — something's off about him. 

That he hardly spoke was a red flag I ignored, but it was the first of many. He shuffles his feet and doesn't look up from the ground. His shoulders are slumped as if he carries something heavy on his back, making it hard to guess his real height.

I grab my phone from the table and shove it in my pocket. At the bar, I leave a bill to pay for my coffee and tell the girl to keep the change.

I'm the one to bolt out of the Coffee4ever this time. My heart pounds, kicked into gear by the caffeine and fear of Tara leaving before I apologize. 

I spot her by her Maserati and run up to her.

"Tara! Wait!"

She goes on to unlock her car, but before she can open the door, I reach her.

"Don't." I pant. "I'm an idiot. I'm sorry; don't go."

"Get in the car, Mav," she says, looking at her friend.

He eyes me as he gets in the Maserati, and Tara runs a palm over her forehead. "I can't do this, Bast. We don't get along, and your assumptions hurt me. I don't think we have anything to talk about. I really hope you find someone to share the apartment with, though, but that won't be me."

She pivots, and that's when the gravity of what I did hits me. It's not about today. It's about each day I chose to make her pay for the sins of someone else. 

"Let me fix it," I say. "Don't go. I was wrong, and I was a jerk, but let me apologize."

Tara groans. "What's the point? We'll be yelling at each other in an hour. I don't do toxic, Bast. I love myself too much for that."

"At least listen to me."

She glances at her watch and sighs. "I have to take Maverick home. His mom must be sick with worry. We can meet another day."

It will be too late, and we both know it. Despite that, I don't have lots of options. It's not like I can force Tara to do something she doesn't feel like doing.

"I can go with you," I say. 

Tara frowns. "In your car?"

"My car's at home."

She falls quiet, but a few heartbeats later, she nods toward the back of Maserati. "Get in."

***

The drive to wherever we're heading is longer than I thought, and Tara's chatter fills every minute of it.

It's the saddest thing ever because she seems to be chatting with herself. She goes on and on about butterflies and an exhibition, and I'm tempted to butt in, so she doesn't get silence as the only response.

But she isn't talking to me, and I feel like an intruder, listening to something that's not meant for my ears. Besides, I'm not sure she wants to hear me speak. 

Eventually, Tara drives off the highway and takes a road leading to the woods. I recognize the area — my parents live twenty minutes away. 

She drives past a gated mansion and slows next to a dilapidated fence.

"Stay here, Bast," she says.

There's a nervous edge to Tara's voice, and as she gets out of the vehicle and rounds it to open the door for Maverick, a woman unlocks the rusty gate.

She takes Maverick's hand in hers and then cups his cheeks. He does what he did at the coffee shop — just stares at the ground, not meeting her eyes.

Tara says something to her, and the woman presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. 

She and her son leave, and Tara slides into the driver's seat of her car.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

Tara's hands on the steering wheel ball into fists. "No. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's get coffee."

"Good idea," she whispers. When the engine rumbles, Tara drives away and puts the radio on. 

Neither of us says a thing.

♡♡♡

I didn't expect to be strolling along a park alley with Tara at nine p.m., but that's where we end up after getting lattes. 

I avoid parks because they're infested with couples who always seem eager to make out, but Tara didn't want to sit in a cafe.

Lucky for us, we're alone, and the rain gave us a break for the first time in days.

I pop the lid of my coffee and take a sip while Tara does the same. She's waiting for my apology, but the words clog my throat and refuse to come out.

I could blurt out that I'm sorry, but it wouldn't be enough after what I did.

"Have you ever done anything good that backfired?" Tara asks.

The urge to thank her for being the first to speak is strong, but I choose to answer her question instead.

"Yeah, if setting up a friend with a girl who later cheated on him in high school counts."

Tara chuckles. "You, a matchmaker? That's unexpected."

"He was tired of being…."

Shit. I take a gulp, and the drink burns my tongue, making me wince.

"Being what?" Tara asks.

"I don't know." I swallow. "I just thought they were good for each other. I was wrong."

"You aren't responsible for other people's actions, though. I also thought it was good for Mav to get out of the house, but his mom disagrees."

A fresh wave of guilt covers me from head to toe. "I'm sorry for what I said at the coffee shop. I was in a shitty mood, and—"

"I have male friends, Sebastian. But I don't fuck them. And even if I did, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"I know. Is Maverick your friend?"

"We've known each other since we were kids. Want to sit?"

I nod and follow her to the wooden bench under a chestnut tree. Tara rummages in her purse and pulls out a pack of tissues. After wiping the bench dry, she sits, and I plop down next to her.

"How did you and Maverick meet?" I ask.

"We're neighbors. We drove past my house today."

I pretend to be studying the cup in my hands. What would Tara think if she saw the dump my father rented when he took the job in Ashwick? 

"The size doesn't turn a house into a home," Tara says. "I didn't choose to live there."

"I didn't say anything."

"But I saw the look on your face, Basti."

"I was just thinking about my parents' place. It's more similar to Maverick's than yours."

Tara leans her head against the back of the bench and looks up at the starless sky. "Maverick's mom raised him on her own. He's twenty-one, and I'm not sure he's going to be able to work. She can't afford anything better."

"What's wrong with him? I noticed he was weird, but…"

"I wish I knew," Tara says and downs the rest of her drink. "Doctors couldn't figure it out, and his mom gave up all hope. She protects him, and he hardly leaves the house. Today he went to the exhibition with me for the first time, but Blanche wasn't happy when I dropped him off so late."

"She should thank you for doing stuff with him."

"She's grateful. She just worries, you know?"

"You're a good friend."

My words make Tara smile, but it doesn't last.

"Why me, Bast?" she whispers. "Why do you want me to be your roommate? Why not Elena?"

"I don't know why you think I want anything to do with her."

"Why do you want anything to do with me?"

There's no easy answer. And the one I have is something I'm scared to admit even to myself. 

I might've shared the bed with Elena, but I never let her in. I never cared.

I forgot what it was like to be alive, and Tara makes me want to remember.