"So." I spin my office chair around to find Daniel leaning against my doorframe. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Confusion must be plastered all over my face because it doesn't take him long to specify what he wants to know. "August was here." He pushes himself off the doorframe and plops down on my bed.

August. Right.

I rest my elbows on my knees and my chin in the palms of my hands as I wait for him to continue the debriefing of his observation. "And not just for five minutes."

August came by to drop off my shirt. An act that should've taken her 5 minutes. Yet 5 minutes are never 5 minutes with her.

We ended up talking for three hours before she announced she had to leave.

"That's a solid observation," I state as neutral as possible. Daniel hums, nodding in acknowledgment. He knows there is more to the story yet he doesn't ask. He lets me sit in silence, reminiscing on my words.

For a few seconds, I debate whether I want to tell him or not. Not because I don't trust him but because telling someone makes it real. Telling someone makes the memories not just memories but part of reality. And I'm not sure if I want to admit how that reality makes me feel. However, maybe talking will create some structure in the chaos of the confusing thoughts roaming my mind.

I sigh, adverting my eyes to the ground. "We fooled around at the party Friday."

"Ah, there it is."

I shake my head in an attempt to wipe away the assumptions running through his head. "We were drunk, it didn't mean anything."

"Are those her words or yours?" That's a good fucking question. To be honest, I wish they were mine. I wish I could say it didn't mean anything to me. That it was in fact a stupid drunken kiss that I could easily forget about. But the reality is that my mind isn't granting me those wishes. It's not giving me the ability to read her mind instead of guessing the meaning behind all the contradictions.

One moment I'm not worth remembering, then another she wants me to not regret our kiss.

One moment I should forget all about her, then another she shows up at my house when she just as well could've given me the shirt tomorrow after our shift together.

"She ran away so I'm pretty sure those are her words."

"That was three years ago. A lot can change in three years." I snort as his hopeful words sink into my brain.

"Yeah well, an awful lot can stay the same too." My tone is harsh and curt even though he's not the one my irritation is directed at. Whether he realizes that or not he stays calm rather than get offended by my snapping at him.

"Explain." His humble voice slowly soothes away the exasperation bottling up inside of me.

"Lucie interrupted us and it was pretty clear August didn't want her to know. Then she told me to forget all about it before running off." A sigh rolls off my lips before I pronounce the part that might be bothering me the most. "I don't think she ever told them, Dan. She sure as hell never told my sister otherwise she would've said something." The fact she never told them makes me feel like a dirty little secret. I've been it once and I know how that storyline ends. I also know I don't want to end up in that position again, where I make her feel she has to choose and where she makes me feel like I'm not worth taking a risk for.

"Shit."

"Shit indeed." I drag my hands over my face before sitting up. "Anyway, we talked afterward." Flashes of the car ride shoot in front of my eyes as her voice echoes through my mind.

"She asked me if I regretted the kiss." Daniel presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

"That's-" His face twists in all kinds of expressions going from baffled to impressed. "I must admit it's," he pauses trying to find the right word, "courageous of her to ask since she's the one who fled the scene. Twice."

Courageous.

Funny word to describe what I thought of her question that night.

"What did you say?"

"I sort of lost it. Told her the exact same thing you just did."

He sighs as he's probably imagining how the car talk went down. "Fuck."

Exactly.

That is exactly how it felt.

I hum in response before telling him about all the things we screamed at each other in my car. How she cried and how I had to fight every single one of my tears because I didn't want her to see that her leaving still hurt somewhere deep inside. How her tears had crushed my heart because I was the reason they flowed down her cheeks. How we decided to forget everything and be just friends.

"Do you feel like you got all the answers to your questions?" No, not at all. If anything, I'm left with more questions than before. All because of one sentence.

Forcing your heart to stop caring isn't easy.

Her confession had silenced my anger, yet simultaneously spiked it catastrophically. I wish I'd screamed: why? If you felt like that then why? Why did you leave, what drove you to the point you left without an explanation? What was the trigger? What happened?

Yet I didn't because she had robbed me of my words.

"Doesn't matter," I answer instead because it shouldn't matter anymore. "We talked and we decided to put it behind us as we're starting over as friends."

"Don't you think you deserve to know why she left without a single heads up even if you're only friends?"

"The answer to that question is yes." My head snaps to the familiar voice coming from the hallway.

Finnick strolls into my room with a couple of beers in his hands, still pointing his index finger at me from answering the question for me. "Now, before you dig yourself any deeper, here you go," he sings as he offers me one of the bottles.

"Don't need to thank me," he adds as Daniel and I accept the booze. We both expectantly stare at him as he takes a swing from his own bottle. "The door was open so you practically invited me in. Plus, it sounded like you needed saving from the deep, dark hole you were digging yourself in."

I chuckle and a soft smile appears on my lips. "And you brought these because what? I should drink away my feelings?" I've not reached that kind of stadium yet but I do appreciate the gesture.

"You could and if so, I'm your guy." Not a single hair on my body would've thought about anyone else if I wanted to party away my thoughts. Finn knows how to organize a party, even more so, crash one. He's your invitation to every single party. I would say, a true asset to the team.

"But actually," he continues, "I brought these because I wanted to celebrate. Remember the Starbucks girl with the pretty eyes?" A grin is slowly spreading across his face. Even though I can already guess where this is leading to, I decide to play dumb instead.

"The one who turned you down? Yeah, I remember that." I nod covering my face with a serious expression.

"Past tense, dipshits. Past. Tense." He reaches for his back pocket and slides out a little paper. He holds it up between his index and middle finger like a trophy as if he just won Olympic gold. His whole face is glowing with smugness and I roll my eyes.

I wonder what kind of bullshit he told the girl this time.

"You've got to be kidding me," Daniel pronounces the exact words I was trying to communicate with my eye roll.

"For once, I am not. But I'm not the only one who scored apparently." He swiftly turns to me. "Not talking about your depressing and confusing situation." Always so brutally honest. How lovely.

"Me?" Daniel exclaims in stupefaction.

"Eric asked how you were doing." A little smirk grows on Finn's face.

"Eric?" My eyes move between my two roommates as I wait for one of them to give me the rest of the story.

"Just a guy who was at the party Friday." When Daniel shrugs, clearly downplaying whatever happened, I turn my gaze to Finn.

"Yeah, just some guy who he fucked." He mimics Daniel's movements from before and my eyebrows shoot up. Daniel immediately snaps his head in Finn's direction.

"Kissed, we kissed. Nothing more," he corrects.

"Yeah well, I might've told him to step it up a notch." Finn slaps his hand on Daniel's shoulder whilst a proud smirk is dancing on his face.

If you need a wingman, Finn's probably your guy. He's a bundle of brutal honesty dipped in a sauce of bullshit and wrapped in pure smugness. The guy can talk himself out of anything and talk anyone into anything.

"You what?" He blinks a few times and I'm not sure if it's panic or perplexity that is taking over his body.

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on Anya."

"I'm not." Daniel's quick response makes me doubt his sincerity.

"I mean if he's a rebound, that's fine, but Eric's-" Before Finnick can finish his sentence Daniel interrupts him.

"I'm not. It's been 4 months. I'm good." Finn stares him down trying to crawl inside his brain to see if his words hold as much truth as he indicates. His blue eyes are narrow and his brows furrowed. A few seconds filled with me switching from one side to another pass and Finn's expression suddenly clears up.

"Good," he begins, taking a sip of his beer. "Because I'm pretty sure he's going to ask you out."

The second Finn drops the announcement Daniel chokes on his beer. The back of his hand flies before his mouth as he coughs, trying to catch his breath. "He what?"

Completely ignoring Daniel's perplexity, Finnick proceeds. "Now that we've established why we're celebrating, I opt for us to go downstairs so that I can destroy you all in a game of beer pong."

I stand up agreeing with his appealing idea and follow them both into the hallway. "Where's Matteo?"

Daniel glances over his shoulder to give me a response. "Visiting Nana."

Nana is Matteo's grandmother and a true angel. He used to visit her a couple of times a week since she's the only family he has left. But when she had a stroke a little over 6 months ago causing her to move into a nursing home, he upped the number of visits to every single day.

"He told me he'd be home before dinner so maybe we should wait for him."

"Should we though?" Finnick stops abruptly and spins around to face us. "We all know he sucks at beer pong." He's got a point. If we'd rank Matteo's beer pong capabilities he'd end up first place, yet only if we start counting from bottom to top instead of top to bottom.

"We'll play Fifa then. Loser needs to pair up with Matteo." A grin spreads across Finn's face as I share my proposition and the smile alone confirms I've established to activate Fanatical Finnick. The overcompetitive version of my roommate.

He throws his hands in the air as he chants, 'Y'all going down!', before sprinting down the stairs with too much energy.

The competitive side of me wants to prove him wrong so badly, yet the other part of me would be glad to let this one slide because stating Finnick is competitive would be the understatement of the year.

He shows no mercy. Never. For no one. Especially not his teammates. He'd never cheat but dramatically speaking, he'd die for gold. It's what brought him so far and what's made him so talented. It's what makes him arrogant and it's also what makes it so much more fun to see him lose.

"I hate to admit it but Finn's right by the way. You do deserve to know the why behind her leaving the way she did."

Perhaps he is but I'm trying to close the wound that summer created and digging deeper will only tear it further open.

"He's right about Eric," I volley back. "You deserve to move on."

"I know, I just," he groans running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. I don't want to rush things. Anya was my first relationship and I'm not quite sure if I want to roll into another one." I can't blame him. I didn't even have a relationship and it still took me months to even think about dating someone else.

"No one's pressuring you, dude. Unless asking someone on a date is the same as asking someone to marry you. If that's the case I think Finn's having a polygamous relationship." I nod towards Finn who's scrolling on his phone whilst sipping on his second beer.

Daniel snorts as he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe leading to the living room. "Or he's cheating on his 20-plus wives." Our laughter catches his attention causing him to look up from whatever girl he was texting.

"Hey dipshits, stop chitchatting and move your fucking asses."

"Afraid you won't have enough time to ask for a second round when you lose?" I fire with a mischievous grin waltzing on my face.

"Ha, you wish." His voice is laid back yet anyone who knows him knows it's a cover-up for Fanatical Finnick taking the steering wheel. And just like every single time, that part of him drags me along in the battle for victory.

"Game on."