Knowing Me, Knowing You | (S/P)

Chapter 4

August 16th.

If there is something that you should know about me, is that I always get sick both at the beginning and at the end of the semester. Stressing over things that haven't happened and probably won't even happen.

I'm not running a fever anymore, so that's an improvement. When I was kid, I had troubles with asthma, and even though I haven't had a crisis for almost a decade, the mere feeling of not being able to breathe properly scares me to the verge of tears.

I wrap the blue blanket with tiny rainbows on it tighter around my shoulders, staring intently at the microwave timer, my stomach growling for the first time in twenty-four hours as the smell of chicken soup starts wafting through the room.

Just as I'm dipping my spoon into the steaming bowl, there's a knock on the front door.

"My life is over." A glassy eyed Josh announces as soon as I open the door.

Thanks to my friendship with Abigail, I've learned to take such declarations with a grain of salt. Instead of creating an overwhelming amount of devastating scenarios in my head, I eat another spoonful of soup, staring at him calmly.

"What happened?"

"Nick dumped me." His face sinks and for a moment I think that he's going to start crying –not because he's really hurt but because this is Joshua Garcia, and this is what he does. Pushing past me, he walks in and makes a beeline for my room.

"Is Nick the guy you met in the stalls of Roscoe's?"

I close the door behind me, sitting next to Josh on the edge of the bed.

"The one that I was going to marry and have a kid named Archie with, yes."

"I didn't know you were dating."

"Not dating-dating. But like, dating, you know."

I really don't.

"You will find someone who loves you truly and madly, Josh." Leaning in, I kiss his cheek, slinging my arms around him. "But you need to stop sleeping around with half the campus population."

"Alex!" he swats my arms around, a frown and a pout twisting his face. I laugh, but it's only short-lived.

Josh is the type of guy that invites you over for a quiet night in and two hours after you find yourself in either a frat boy's attic drinking alcohol of questionable origins or in a bar in Chicago's deepest alleys singing and dancing to Cell Block Tango.

He is also the smartest guy I know, and the one person that lets me wallow in self-pity without making me feel guilty about it.

And he brings me pizza whenever I need it.

"The rainbows blanket is out, what's wrong?" He narrows his eyes at me, as if this has just occurred to him now.

"I'm just –Will keeps texting me."

"Can I beat him? I don't even care about jail anymore, I'd do it for you."

"Do I have a 'breaking my heart is free' tattoo on my forehead?"

Josh leans in, examining my forehead. "Yeah, but it's fading." This time I let the laugh blossom to the very end, my ribcage shaking as I plop down against the mattress.

"I hate my life."

"I hate my life too." Josh agrees, letting himself fall next to me.

If only Abigail were here. I bet that Freudian side of hers would have one or two things to say about us.