Page 67 of Did They Break You

I slap his chest with the back of my hand, and as Cortland gets closer, I see him still staring at me. I can hear the voice of his friend beside him, low and deep, talking about football.

Of course.

I think about my head in my hands in my room on Saturday. When Cortland would be getting ready for the game.

Fuck you.

I stand a little straighter and loop my arm through Van’s, tugging him toward the cemetery. I have no desire for him to find out right now that Cortland is back. That could lead to questions I don’t want to answer. “Let’s go.”

Van starts moving, pinching the joint between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it away from his lips.

Cortland is still watching me, his jaw clenched as his eyes narrow in on my arm looped through Van’s.

I hold my breath as we pass him by, and thankfully, he doesn’t say a word.

When me and Van disappear through the treeline, the white tombstones seeming like a refuge in the sun, I breathe a little easier.

“You sure you’re good?” Van asks me as I drop my bag in the grass and look over my shoulder, ensuring Cortland hasn’t followed me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

With those words, I almost laugh out loud, plopping down into the grass.Ghost of the past.

“So,tell us about Asa. How arethings?” Van is the one to bring it up, the three of us sitting in the cemetery on an orange blanket he packed in his bag. He’s also the one who brought the food: Cucumber sandwiches, which are honestly delicious.

Sloane tilts her head, the soft white bread clutched in her hand as she swallows and her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. “I went home with him the other night.” She glances at me as I stuff the sandwich in my mouth, relishing in the taste of cucumber and cream cheese, and I smile but don’t speak, letting her share what she wants. “But I was so drunk…” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, as if at herself. “So we didn’t… do anything.”

I think of how that same night went for me and don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. I take another bite of my sandwich instead, but I can feel Van’s eyes on me.

I almost want to take a pull from that joint he offered me earlier but I don’t want to speak so I don’t ask.

“Have you two slept together… at all?” Van pries.

Sloane shakes her head, her baby blonde strands falling around her face. She has to tip her chin up and rake them back, the late summer sun making her cheeks glow. “No. But I wantto.” She takes another bite, probably to save herself from Van’s interview.

“You never told me. Where’s your internship next semester?” I ask her, changing the subject. I don’t want anyone to askmeabout sex.

She shifts on her palm, her legs crossed like mine but she’s leaned back on one arm. After she swallows, her green eyes flick to mine. “I’ll be helping out with marketing at… wait for it.” She comically widens her eyes. “Reptilia!”

“I’m not really into lizard people.” Van chimes in, and I glance at him across from me as he grins, his dimples popping while he drops a dangling cucumber into his mouth. He’s the only one of us leaning on one hip, his loose black jeans ripped and boots polished. He looks too cool to be here. But Sloane looks like a supermodel, so maybe I’m the only odd one out.

“Are you jealous they run the world?” I shoot back at Van.

He actually laughs, white teeth flashing.

Sloane snorts and shakes her head. “Thankfully, I won’t be handling the lizards. Just the people.”

“Do you have to do an internship, Rems?” Van asks me.

I finish my sandwich and ball up the plastic wrap in my fist. When I swallow, I shake my head. “No, but I have to have a completed manuscript before graduation if I continue the Creative Writing track.”

“What genre are you thinking?” Sloane asks.

“Does it have to beliterary fiction?”Van says the words with a mock British accent which makes me and Sloane both laugh.

I look between both of my friends, waiting for me to speak, and have a sudden surge of gratitude toward them. For treating me normally. For letting this all be normal. If either of them know Cortland is here, they’re certainly not acting like it, and I’m grateful. “Can be anything,” I say, locking eyes with Van’s deep blue ones. “Maybe I’ll write a romance.” I have to clench myteeth to stop from laughing. The idea of me knowing anything about love enough to write it is hilarious.

But Van just shrugs and even Sloane doesn’t laugh.

“You’re the sensitive one,” Van says quietly. “They make the best lovers.”

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