The first week after Grayson left the diner, I hoped that he was still going to be there. Each customer was met with a disappointed greeting and every day full of anxious hope I shouldn’t have had. I wanted him to leave—needed him to, really—but I never expected Grayson to just up and leave without even saying goodbye.

By the time the second week rolled around, I realized that he wasn’t actually just avoiding the diner. He was just gone.

It was a harsh realization, one that hit me the second I got home from the diner and was taking off my coat. It punched me in the stomach, a hard hit that knocked the air out of me and made my arm shoot out in front of me, pressing against the wall as I tried to keep myself upright.

He was gone. And it was all my fault.

It’s for his own good, I chastised myself, slowly continuing my way into the apartment. It was dark, save the Christmas lights that beamed from the wall, signaling to me that Madeline wasn’t home yet. Good.

I poured myself a drink and threw it back, swallowing quickly so I could finish it off while I was still in the dark kitchen, pressed against the counter top. It burned my throat a little, but I didn’t mind. It was nice to feel something so concrete.

I poured another, this one fuller than the last, and shuffled into the living room. I didn’t bother putting a movie on, just flicked the TV on so it could lowly play whatever had been being watched before it had been switched off. Nighttime TV sucked, but I couldn’t force my thoughts to clear or my mind to focus long enough for it to matter.

How was it that this was what had become of us? Me, drinking in the dark with a constant feeling of emptiness in my chest, and Grayson just gone, missing from my life as if he’d never stumbled into Kyle’s in the first place.

I had always known it would be temporary. But temporary didn’t have to hurt this much, did it? It didn’t have to leave so much carnage behind.

The first time I saw him, I’d had to sit on the floor I was so dumbstruck. The memory tugged at me, all night, whispers of bright hats and slippery smiles and eyes that could change color just from thoughts. Grayson had etched himself into my life so thoroughly that no place was safe from him, no thought or desire or space was free from his ghostly presence. I wanted to punch him for leaving; wanted to kiss him and beg him not to go again.

But he wasn’t around so neither option would work. Instead, I took another long pull from the drink, sighing at the burn as I swallowed.

I finished half the bottle before Madeline came home, her key scraping against the lock in the door. I must’ve muted the TV if I was able to hear that so clearly. I blinked, trying to focus on the screen to figure out what was playing. It proved pointless, so I took another drink.

Madeline smiled when she saw me, but it fell when she took in what I actually looked like. I was sure I was a mess. Sprawled on the futon, eyes glassy, bottle resting between my legs. I didn’t think I was actually bruised or bleeding, but I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out I was. Judging by the concern on Madeline’s face, I just might’ve been.

“Hey,” she said softly. I didn’t reply but nodded the bottle in her direction. Some of it splashed onto the futon, and I bit my bottom lip, eyes welling. It would stain now. Not that it really mattered. It was littered with other stains. My whole life was, really.

No. I wanted this. I caused this. Grayson was probably off signing contracts and getting facials and being carted around like a prince and he deserved it. Deserved better than to hide in a dark hotel and eat fried, small time diner food for every meal. No, I wouldn’t let my thoughts blame him for this.

Madeline settled herself on the couch next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and placing my head in the crook of her neck, holding me tightly to herself. I let my head drop to rest on her, not fighting when she pried the bottle from my hands.

She took a swig and sat it on the ground by our feet, cuddling closer to me.

“I know you miss him,” she murmured. I was too far gone, too hurt, too drunk, to even bother denying it. “It’s okay to miss people, Jade.”

She lifted her other hand to run through my hair, soothingly petting me as the TV played too lowly and my heart desperately tried to stop cracking.

* * *

Another two weeks passed by. I, unfortunately, retained the newfound ability to witness my life fully, even without Grayson around. I experienced every miserable hour as slowly as I had when he was there and then, one day, a few not so miserable hours.

My mood had improved, just a bit, as the days passed. If I stopped moving for a moment, my thoughts would return to Grayson, to how much it hurt, but when I was busy enough, things felt—well, almost normal.

After three of these pretty reasonable days passed in a row, Madeline cornered me in the non-fiction section of The Bookies. I had stopped by to bring her a coffee and her tiny arms wrapped around one of mine, refusing to let me leave until I heard her out. I could have broken out of her embrace, but her face was scrunched seriously, her hair pulled into two tight buns, and, frankly, she was adorable.

I wished, though, that I’d pushed my way out of the store at any cost to her or our friendship. It turned out she was absolutely certain I had to go on a date with a customer she had met earlier that day. She insisted that it was crucial, that I needed to put myself out there if I ever wanted to be able to relax again and that it had to be this guy.

I said no a dozen times and then, after a dozen more maybes, relented.

Maybe, I had thought, it wouldn’t be so bad. Madeline had jumped up and down for a good ten minutes before running to the register to get his number, somehow hopping over abandoned books in her booted heels and not tripping once. I shook my head in wonder. Who was I to second guess Madeline, anyway?

But, it had turned out, I definitely should have.

So bad my ass, I thought, watching as my date tried for the third time to convince me to watch The Horse and the Hound, one of Grayson Sparling’s “absolute best films”.

I ground my teeth together, rubbing at my temples while the guy explained that the movie was really very good and that Grayson Sparling was actually quite awesome in it.

I wanted to tell him that I knew exactly how awesome Grayson Sparling was, thank you very much, and until a month ago, I had actually owned that particular DVD. But Grayson hadn’t wanted anyone to know, and so I just ground my teeth and suggested, now for the fourth time, a different film.

The guy huffed in annoyance. I didn’t know what Madeline saw in him. I needed to get out of here.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing and pointing toward my extensive DVD collection—all great movies without the ex I couldn’t stop thinking about. “Feel free to pick out a movie. Just not—”

“Yeah, this one.” The guy clearly wasn’t having any better of a time with me than I was with him. Which, yeah, was my fault. I had been quiet during dinner and was positively argumentative about the movie. But I had told Madeline I wasn’t ready, and she insisted I was. So, really, I’d just blame her. I closed the door to the bathroom, running my hands down my face.

I looked at myself in the mirror, sighing. One movie and then this guy would leave. I could make it through that much.

My phone rang from the other room, and I shook my head, leaving the bathroom to answer it when I heard the ringing cut short and my date’s confident “hello?”

I gawked, hand still on the doorknob. This guy just answered my phone?

“Hello?” The guy repeated. “No, she’s in the bathroom. I- who am I? We’re just watching a movie, man, we’re on a date.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I almost laughed. I had assumed it was Alana on the other line, grilling the guy for details. I hadn’t even told her about this date, though it was safe to assume that Madeline did.

I decided to rescue the guy from my cousin’s insipid grilling and headed back into the living room. I was surprised to see that the guy had set his phone down, though, before I could even get into the room. Alana had never gotten off the phone that quick.

“That was my phone?” I asked as if I hadn’t been eavesdropping. The guy nodded but was staring at two DVD cases. Both looked like action flicks. I let out a breath in relief. Finally.

“Some guy,” he muttered, shoving one of the DVDs back on the shelf. He brandished the winner to me. “What do you think of this one?”

The guy looked hesitant, and I almost laughed. “Perfect,” I said, grabbing it and shoving it in. This, at least, I could do. I could always watch Vin Diesel save the day.

I grabbed my phone off the table, shoving it into my pocket. I’d just deal with Alana’s line of questions tomorrow at work, rather than text her back. If it were important, she’d call back. I was pretty certain it was just to get dirt on me, though.

“Great.” We sat down, the bowl of popcorn cool and resting between us from before the Grayson Sparling debate.

So, the date wasn’t great. But it wasn’t horrible, either. It was just bad enough that I actually was looking forward to telling Madeline and Alana about it.

Even if there was no love match made between us that night, I realized, unfortunately, that Madeline was right. This was definitely a step in the right direction.