I hear stirring from Cosette’s room when I come back into the house in the morning. She was still asleep when I left to get us our favorite hangover food—chocolate chip pancakes. I also bought a Gatorade the size of Arizona itself for her because she’s going to need it.

Placing the pancakes on the kitchen table, I make a point of being loud. Rattling the silverware, making the plates bang on the table. Whatever natural sounds I can make to let her know that I’m out here and that I’ve got food. It doesn’t take long for her to emerge. She looks terrible, still in last night’s clothes with hair standing straight and make-up smeared, but her eyes are clear. So that’s a good thing.

“You got pancakes.” Her voice is scratchy from all the crying that she did last night.

“Yeah. And Gatorade.”

She slumps into one of the chairs, pulling the massive bottle towards her. “Thanks.”

I sit across from her, not encouraged by the awkward silence. I don’t know how to bring it up to her. What do I say? But I don’t have to. Cosette clears her throat after taking a bite of the pancakes. She gives me a smile that looks genuine, even if it’s tired. “I’m really sorry about last night. I was just really drunk. You know I didn’t mean any of that stuff.”

“Of course not,” I say, smiling back. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not really okay. Because I can feel the distance between us where it wasn’t before, and it’s been growing wider over the past few weeks even though I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’m not sure how to fix it? How do you heal something that’s broken like this? And might have broken long before you realized it? “You’re okay, though?”

“Well, my head hurts like a bitch, but for the most part, I think I’m okay. I think I’m going to sleep more though. If I do, I think I’ll be able to make it to work tonight.”

“Make sure you drink all of that,” I say, pointing to the Gatorade. “Throwing up in the cage wouldn’t be ideal.”

She laughs. “No, it wouldn’t.”

We lapse into silence again, and it’s too much. I can’t handle the awkwardness between us. I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. “I have some errands to run. I’ll be back later, okay? Get some sleep.”

Cosette gives me a small smile that seems almost shy. “I will.”

I don’t have any errands to run. I don’t actually know where I’m going to go, only that I have to get out of the house. I jump in the car and start driving, barely able to focus on where I’m going. I’m feeling too much, too many thoughts running through my head. I end up at Lookout Mountain—a tiny mountain in the middle of Phoenix, and where I always used to come in high school when I needed to get away and think. But I haven’t been here in years. Not since my parents died.

It’s not even noon, but the day is stifling, and I’m sweating long before I reach the top, but I push through. Things always seem more clear from up here. You look out over the city and can see the pattern. How all the streets fit together so people can find their way, and somehow you manage to figure out the pattern that you’re looking for too. It’s always worked for me before.

I plant my ass on a rock and look out over the city, the distance hazy with heat, and I let my thoughts run wild. How is it possible that I’ve been blind to something that’s been happening for my entire life? How haven’t I noticed that I’ve always put Cosette in my shadow? How the things I thought were just wild and crazy always coincided with something great happening to me? And am I shitty friend for never noticing that? Or is Cosette a shitty friend for letting the things in my life affect her so deeply? Is it really my fault that she does this to herself? Or are we somehow both at fault?

And probably more importantly, how do I fix it? I can’t keep myself from doing the things I want to do because I’m afraid of hurting Cosette’s feelings. That’s no way to live for either me or her. But there has to be some kind of happy medium. What she said last night, about me taking over her audition. She is right. I only got up on that stage because I saw that she was struggling and I wanted to help her. I was never going to take the job. Until Julian.

I groan, shaking my head. I was so caught up in him, and his insane offer of money that I pushed aside any doubts I saw that Cosette had. I saw that she wasn’t okay with it and I ignored it because I was happy. Well, that has to stop now. I love working at the club, but it’s just a job. And I’ll be damned if I let a job come between me and the one friend I’ve had forever. Is it fair? No. Nothing’s fair. But I refuse to believe that the only way I can be happy is working at Club Deep. If it is, then I need to broaden my horizons. A lot.

Besides, now that I know that this job is messing with Cosette’s head so much, how could I ever be happy there? Yeah. I need to quit.

And just like it’s always been when I come up here, a weight lifts off my shoulders like the mountain was ready to take it, ready to show me what I should do. The walk down the mountain is way easier than the climb up. Now that I’ve decided, everything feels…easy. I hope it stays that way.