Sunday, I don't leave my dorm. Riley comes back from her weekend at 2 PM, takes one look at me, and asks what happened.
"Boy drama," I say.
"The older guy?"
"The ex. He confronted me yesterday."
"About the older guy?"
"Yeah."
She drops her bag and sits on her bed facing me. "And?"
"And I told him it's none of his business."
"Good. It's not."
"He threatened to tell people. To expose everything."
Riley's eyes narrow. "Expose what exactly? That you're talking to someone? That's not illegal."
"It's complicated."
"It always is with you." She says it without judgment, just observation. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing. There's nothing to do. Either he tells or he doesn't."
"And if he does?"
"Then I deal with it."
Riley studies me carefully. "You're scared."
"I'm not—"
"You are. I can see it. You're sitting here on a Sunday afternoon instead of being out there living your life. That's not you."
She's right. I am hiding.
