College is supposed to prepare you for long hours and late nights. One would think with the number of cram sessions and parties an average student takes part in we’d be prepared for the real world. This is not the case because of naps. We take naps, all the time. The only thing we’re prepared for is the copious amounts of coffee we can drink to stay awake.

There are very few people left in the office this late at night. Most of us are interns, trying to earn a coveted spot with Omni, Inc. Each manager has two reporting to them, and it’s the stiffest competition I’ve ever been in. Of course, Margie’s team’s going to win because I have music resources I can call upon to make sure our marketing proposal blows not only the clients and their manager but also the board out of the water. We need to knock the socks off everyone involved.

Right now, my partner, Talia, is face down on her desk. Over the past few days, I’ve found out a lot about her. She’s from the midwest and is not a party girl, which has been evident with our late nights. By nine, she’s always yawning, and by ten, she’s usually out cold. Still, she’s a hard worker and pulls her weight fairly. While I can stay up all hours of the night, she’s a morning bird, always bright and cheery, ready to tackle the day. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and we make a pretty good team. We’re like yin and yang, and we both want to succeed.

My only complaint, Talia is chatty. I know everything there is to know about her parents, brother, her roommate in college and the type of cows her grandparents raise on their ranch. Talia wears a size six shoe, which allows her to shop in both the adult and kids section.

Our first weekend in New York is coming up, and while I want to stay in and work, Talia and the other interns have made plans for us to all go out. As much as I’d love to say no, I can’t. It’d be stupid not to build a network with the others. I don’t want to be seen as someone who isn’t a team player, both in and out of the office.

The security guard walks down the aisle-way, whistling. He does this to alert us to his presence to not scare anyone. Believe me, I’ve seen Die Hard a few times, and when I hear odd noises, I wonder what’s lurking in the shadows.

“Mr. Miller, how are you this fine…” Bernard pauses and looks at his watch. “Morning.”

“Morning, huh?” I glance over at Talia who is dead to the world. “I suppose I ought to wake her and get her home.”

“You be safe out there,” he says as he continues his patrol. New York is a somewhat safer city than it used to be, but it’s still a city, and there’s still crime all around us. It’s really no different than Los Angeles. This is where I have the benefit over Talia. While I haven’t been here before, I know what it’s like to live in a city.

I close the file and pack it away into my bag before scooting across the aisle to tap Talia on the shoulder. “Talia, it’s time to go.” I like that she stays with me, even though she doesn’t have to. I worry less knowing we’re walking together instead of her out there at night by herself. I’ve grown a bit protective of her.

“I fell asleep, huh?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I got a lot done. You can look it over in the morning. Well, later in the morning,” I say as I look at my watch.

Talia stretches. “Maybe I should drink more coffee,” she says, gathering her belongings.

“You’re fine. I feel like we balance each other out.”

“We do, don’t we?” She slips her arm into mine, and we walk out together. There are a few more desk lights on, but we don’t stop to see who else is working. If we stress about who’s staying later than we are, our project will suffer. We need to have a clear mind at all times.

Talia and I walk to the subway. She stays close to me, keeping her bag between us. Her father gave her a list of things to watch out for, and how to not make yourself a target. I’d probably do the same thing if I were him. Talia also has to text him whenever she leaves her apartment or the office, as well as when she arrives at her destination. Her father seems a bit overbearing, but it’s probably nice having someone who cares.

We make it to our platform just in time for the train. A minute later and we’d have to wait anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes for the next one. That’s the one drawback about working late. The cheaper transportation is hard to come by.

Talia takes the inside seat and leans her head on my shoulder. Even though we’ve only known each other for a few days, it’s better than her leaning up against the dirty window.

When our stop is announced, I’m surprised to find Talia awake. Usually, she’s out like a light once the train starts moving. Another reason she shouldn’t ride alone at night. I’ve got to find a way to keep this girl awake in case I’m not around.

We only have a few blocks to walk once we get off the train. Talia and I live in a secured building, right across the hall from each other and on the third floor with no elevator. Talia thinks Margie and the other managers are trying to teach us a life lesson, showing us what we’ll be able to afford if we were to win and be offered a job. I know she’s right, and I honestly have no problem with my studio. It’s quiet, I have a view of the street, which granted, isn’t much, but it’s different from L.A., and I need that right now.

After making sure Talia’s in her place and her door’s locked, I head into my apartment, locking the door behind me. My bathroom is immediately to the right, and after a quick shower, I’m crawling into bed after one a.m. I should go to sleep, but instead, I look at my phone. Elle’s name is there, showing my most recent missed call. In fact, she’s my only missed call. Each time, I either send her to voicemail or let it ring through, unable to bring myself to talk to her. I figure by now, she knows I’m gone and is probably wondering where the hell I am.

By accident, my finger touches her name, and the call goes through. I’m left with deciding to either hang up quickly and hope the call didn’t register on her phone or to talk to her. It’s late, and I need my sleep, but I take too long to decide, and she’s saying hello.

My eyes close at the sound of her voice. I’ve missed hearing her, seeing her. “Hey.” My voice is strained, and my throat feels as if it’s going to close. This was a mistake. I should’ve held my stance and continued to ignore her. It’s for my own good, even though I know she’s freaking out. How do you tell someone you’re in love with, you don’t want to be near them because you can’t be a part of their self-destruction? Never mind the fact that you can’t bear to watch her be with another guy.

“Ben?” she says breathlessly, or at least that’s what my imagination tells me.

“Hi, Elle.” I want my words to be curt, but they’re not. Another reason why I can’t talk to her. My psyche doesn’t allow me to be pissed at her.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around in weeks. You’re not working at the café anymore. You never answer your phone, and I never see you on campus. I look for you all the time. It’s like you’ve disappeared on me and I’m wondering if I need to send out a search party.” Elle sniffles, a sure sign she’s crying. I roll onto my back and close my eyes. The truth is on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve promised myself to keep my move a secret as long as possible. Elle will undoubtedly show up here, and right now I need to focus on my career and what’s best for me.

“Elle…”

“No, I get it, Ben. I messed up, and I’d really like to talk to you about it, but you don’t call me back, you barely answer my texts messages and when I go to your place… you have a girlfriend, and you didn’t even tell me. I mean, I get it, but I want a chance to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Elle.”

“But there is. I know I did something and I think I have it figured out.” Elle’s definitely crying and I’m on the verge of telling her everything, starting with the fact that I don’t have a girlfriend and the woman she can hear is only subletting. “Ben, please.”

Hearing her plead almost does me in, but I can’t do it. “Look, it’s late, and I need to get some sleep.”

“You called me back, Ben.”

I sigh. I have a feeling I’m going to regret saying this. “It was by accident, Elle.”

The intake of air is very audible over the phone. I have a feeling our friendship is over, despite what she’s done, I’ve now hammered the nail into our coffin. “Ben?”

“I have to go, Elle.”

“At least tell me her name so I can be cordial.” No, I don’t want you to be anything to June. I want you to continue believing she’s my girlfriend and it breaks your heart.

“Talia. Her name’s Talia, but she doesn’t know about you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

There’s a long pause before Elle answers, “I see.”

“It’s complicated, Elle. Right now, everything is just a mess and… I have to go.” I hang up quickly and set my phone to Do Not Disturb. Knowing Elle the way I do, she’ll end up drowning her sorrows in liquor and will start texting me all night. It’s still early for her, and she’s no doubt just getting started with the partying.

Never in a million years did I think her and I wouldn’t be friends, and most of my life I imagined us together. What’s worse, losing her means I’ve likely lost her whole family. I don’t see myself hanging out with them or being invited to any of their gatherings. Mr. and Mrs. PJ have always treated me as part of the family, but only because I was an extension of Elle.

I make sure my alarm is set, and I roll over. As soon as I close my eyes, I see Elle sitting next to me in the uncomfortable waiting room chair while we wait for news on Peyton. I left Los Angeles to comfort her, to be there for her. I held her while she cried, turned my head when she’d disappear for hours, and made sure her family was taken care of. I did this because I’m so in love with her, it hurts. But not anymore.

The pain from loving Elle James stops now.