She reached out and touched my shoulder, “Oh, Drew,” she whispered. I stared out the window, trying to repress all the painful emotions shooting through me. “Drew,” she said again, “She wants you to be happy.”
I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. “Think about it,” she breathed, “If it had been you. If you had died, and she was… doing what you’re doing. Would you want that for her?”
I shook my head again, but it wasn’t in response to the question, “I don’t… deserve… I”
“No,” she cut across me sharply, “You, of all people, deserve happiness. I don’t think you understand how much you meant to her.”
I stared down at the rubix cube in my hands, “How could you know?”
She chuckled ruefully, “I know a lot more about you than you think.”
“I noticed,” I muttered, thinking about her outburst in the cafeteria.
After a pause, she said, “Why don’t we ditch? There’s a Starbucks down the road. I wonder if they have Ginkgo.”
The last part she muttered to herself as she started up the car.