Page 122 of Friends with Benefits

“Why not?”

Shit, Jules! Why didn’t Evie stick to health stuff, social anxiety, Naomi? Seriously, there’s nothing her therapist enjoys more than validating Evie’sNaomi fucked me upfeelings, then sending her links to books written for children with emotionally immature parents. She should pivot to one of these comfortable topics. Instead, she flails in extended silence that makes her want to crawl out of her skin.

“Because it can’t be on me,” she begins, finally. “When he regrets it.”

Jules nods. “So. His decision isn’t yours to make… but the consequences are on you?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’ll regret staying?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a bold assumption.”

“Is it?”

“Is it bold of you to think you know someone better than they know themselves? Yes.” Jules blows a raspberry and runs their hand through their longer-on-top pixie cut. “It’s alsounfair to the other person in the equation… and, speaking from personal experience, super fucking annoying.”

“Jules!”

“Evie.” Jules’s voice is softer, a normal volume. “Children of people with the traits of a personality disorder—”

Evie cuts them off. “This isnotabout Naomi.”

“Okay.”

“Not everything is about Naomi.”

“True.” Jules shrugs. “But you did grow up anticipating her needs, managing her emotions in order to protect yourself, downplaying your pain…”

Evie can hear the ellipsis at the end of Jules’s sentence and knows where she’s being led, what conclusion she’s meant to come to. Is that not what this is?No.Is she not anticipating Theo will resent her if he stays?No.Is she pushing him toward New York now (again!) because obviously, eventually, he’ll leave anyway?No.

No.

No?

Exhausted, her eyes shift to the bottom right-hand corner of her screen: 11:59. Evie’s never been more relieved to tap out of a session. She snaps and points finger guns at Jules. “I’ll totally spend the next week unpacking that!”

Jules snorts. “You will not.”

“I will not.”

Evie closes her laptop and flops backward onto her bed, somehow feeling worse than she did an hour ago. She’s been unpacking this shit with Jules for five years. She knows who her mother is. Has worked so hard not to become—or exist as a reaction to—Naomi.

Okay, Naomi.

The casual cruelty of those two words rattles against her skull.

She didn’t mention them to Jules.

Because this isn’t about Naomi.

Evie stands. Stretches her limbs before exiting her room. Theo is in the kitchen, slicing an avocado like he’s not supposed to be in school. Her stomach is on the floor. It’s Monday. And… Theo’s on spring break this week. She completely forgot and just, like,therapiedabout him for an entire hour.

“Fuck.” She passes him on her way to the fridge, unsure what she even wants. “Were you listening?”

“Thin walls.”

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