Summer: Alone

"Alright, kids. It's closing time."

Amy looked up from the database she was organizing, squinting into the darkness. Most of the students were seated on the ground or on folding chairs, inputting data in their forest clearing. Dr. Johnson was clapping in the middle of the group, and the students were shutting down their systems. Amy saved her file, stretched, and yawned.

She followed the other students to the SUVs. Obnoxiously, other kids had entered the vehicle without sitting in the back, and Amy had to crawl all over them to reach an open seat. Angela grimaced and backed up when Amy's hip brushed her shoulder.

Well, if you don't want to get bumped, down sit in the individual seats while the bench seats behind you are empty. The words rang in her mind, but Amy said nothing.

One of Dr. Johnson's adult assistants slid into the driver's seat. Angela leaned in and smiled. "Hey, Jim," she said. Amy couldn't see her face from behind her, but she could imagine the expression to go along with that low, entreating tone. "It's Friday night. Can you drop us off at a bar?"

Ah. Amy leaned back and closed her eyes. Whatever Angela was up to, it wasn't her problem. She would be in her dorm room soon, sound asleep.

Angela had to wear Jim down, as he was supposed to take them to the dorm, but she secured her transportation. Amy dozed as they drove, and she jumped when the car came to a stop at a curb. They had stopped in front of a rundown building swarmed by young people.

Amy had to exit the SUV to make way for the other students. Her foot was back in the van when a hand landed on her shoulder. "Amy!" Angela cried. Amy froze, startled by the foreign cheer in Angela's voice. "Girl, you work twice as hard as the rest of us. If anyone needs a drink, it's you."

"Er-" Amy faltered, unable to process Angela's expression. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling. It was as if a burden she had carried for the last month had fallen from her shoulders during the ride.

"Come on!" Angela pulled Amy beside her and threaded her arm through hers.

"Um- Ah!" Someone closed the SUV's door, and Jim revved up the engine. "Wait! I don't- I don't really drink-"

Angela laughed, a rich, throaty sound. Amy was reminded of Shauna, but there was no way Angela could be that charming... Right?

"Well, no wonder you're wound so tight! C'mon. This will be good for you. And it will be less fun without you."

You don't like me. Amy glanced around at the group, searching for support, but no one was interested in her. The tide of moving bodies, spearheaded by Angela, swept her into the bar.

It was even dingier than the bar from Halloween, but almost as packed. Amy commented on the crowd, as if this would change Angela's mind and summon the SUV by magic.

"Well, duh." Angela grinned and rolled her eyes. "It's the middle of nowhere. Nothing to do here but drink, and not many places to do it."

She couldn't have been here more than a few times, but Angela strolled to the bar like she owned the place. Amy had to work to stay in step with her. "Hey, George," Angela cooed to the barkeeper.

George was all scruffy blond hair and gawkish limbs. Color blazed across his cheeks as Angela leaned on the counter, pressing her chest up against its surface. "I'm here with some friends. Can you get a tab started for us?"

Amy tried not to overhear the transaction, composed mostly of stammering from George, but she still pieced together that Angela intended to treat the whole group tonight. Her eyebrows jerked up.

How much is a drink? Eight dollars, maybe? I don't even know. And there are, what? Twenty of us? If we each have three drinks... Zeus above.

George served Angela first, then turned to her. His cheeks went from flushed to blazing when he saw her arm threaded through Angela's. Amy felt the muscles in her back clamp tight.

"I, I don't..."

"Oh, don't be shy, Amy! Tonight's on me! Get whatever you want!" Amy tried to decline, but Angela turned back to the bartender. "This girl is impossible, George. Give her whatever is most popular with the ladies around here, and pour it strong, would you? This is the most tense chica I've ever met." Angela patted her arm affectionately, as if they went way back. A frozen smile overtook Amy's face, and George laughed.

"You do look like you need this, miss. I'll have it ready in a second."

I didn't realize alcohol had medicinal properties. Amy's eyes narrowed over her fake grin. The next student ordered while George worked, and soon he was sliding a drink towards her.

Amy picked it up and followed Angela to the single free table. Although she was not happy with Angela, Amy stayed close to her heels. The crowd pushed in on all sides, and she already felt like she was suffocating. A layer of sticky moisture formed over her skin, reminding Amy of walking through spider webs in the forest. She had the urge to pick away nonexistent threads.

Angela sat, and Amy took the seat opposite her. Her eyes dove into her cup, escaping the overload of visual stimuli. The liquid was a delicate shade of pink. Amy took a cautious sniff and got a whiff of something fruity and pleasant beneath the dry sting of alcohol.

"Um-" Amy glanced at Angela. "Maybe someone else should take this?"

Angela dropped her chin in her upraised palm. "Not a chance. I paid for that, and I want to see you drink it."

Amy's tight grin wavered. And shall I sing for the lady's pleasure? Other kids joined them as she faltered over a reply, and Amy found herself in a circle of students. The seats filled up, and more people stood behind them, blocking Amy in. The sheen of sweat went cold against her skin.

Angela lifted her drink. "Here's to the end of another week of hell in the woods!" Laughter pounded down on Amy, who sat motionless as people drank.

"Doing anything this weekend, Angel?" Cindy, a lanky blond, prodded Angela with her elbow. Angela sighed and took another long draught.

"I wish," she muttered. "Tomorrow's my monthiversary with my boyfriend. But he's back home, of course."

"Monthiversary?" Cindy echoed. Amy scowled into her cup. Naively, she had hoped no one would ask.

Angela balanced her elbows on the table. Dappled light from the filthy fixture overhead sparkled against her collection of bracelets, bangles, and rings. "Yeah, you know. We celebrate the day we got together every month."

"Oh!" Cindy sighed. "That's the most romantic thing! How many months has it been?"

Angela's eyes went misty. "Four. I've never been so in love."

Oh, Zeus. Mighty, lecherous Zeus. Amy tried to conjure up the ads for donating to animal shelters. In her mind, Sarah Machlachlan's smooth voice crooned of angels and destruction, but it was hardly enough to prevent a massive giggle fit.

Naturally, another girl demanded to know all about the boyfriend. The male students began to shift about, disinterested in the merits of some other dude. A few wandered away, and Amy glanced over her shoulder. The girls moved closer, filling the empty spaces back in, so she was still stuck.

She wasn't paying close attention, but she learned in short order that this boyfriend possessed every possible virtue. And, to top the description off with a juicy cherry, Angela explained that her parents hated him, and that he was handsome.

Of course he's handsome. He's always handsome. Amy's cheek twitched as Angela placed an iPhone with a gilt golden cover on the table. Oh, hooray. Pictures.

The phone made its way to her amid a procession of squeals. It showed a couple embracing, smiling drunkenly and holding Dixie cups. The boyfriend had an olive complexion, wiry muscles, and a patch of dark hair on his chin. He wore a wife beater, ripped jeans, and almost as much jewelry as Angela.

Charmed, I'm sure. The words passed her mind in Izzy's most scathing monotone, and Amy smiled as she handed the phone off.

"Are those from him?" Another student gestured towards Angela's jewelry. Angela grinned and pointed out the items from her boyfriend.

It was foolish, but Amy couldn't help edging closer. Some of the pieces appeared to be worked bronze, but others looked like gold and gem stones. How much money does she have on her arms? How did one kid buy all of this stuff for her in four months? And why would you wear it to a research field site? Hell, a dive bar?

Amy suddenly realized that Angela was wearing a skintight dress. Blinking, Amy glanced down at her own clothing, a hoodie and jeans. She preferred to wear dresses, but that wasn't practical on a research site. Besides, the hoodie listed the members of her university's soccer team, and it was a gift from Tai.

Still, with her glasses on, her hair tied back into a sloppy braid, and her relaxed attire, Amy felt a bit out of place next to Angela.

Amy shifted uncomfortably, and Angela's attention swapped from Cindy to her. "Amy, I don't know anything about you, chica. You got a boy back home?"

Color rushed to Amy's face as the girls turned on her. Her throat went dry, and she took a drink without thinking. She wheezed when the alcohol hit her esophagus. "Y-yes?" she choked.

"Yeah?" Amy wasn't sure if Angela was disappointed or smug. All she really knew was that her smile was at odds with the glint in her eyes. "What's he like? Got a picture?"

Amy drew back, nudging the girl behind her. What the hell is this? "Er," she stammered, toying with her glass. "He's snarky, but gentle and polite. Really sharp, dry sense of humor. He's the most intelligent person I've ever met."

Angela's expression shifted into something Amy instantly recognized: a mix of smugness and false pity. "Pics?" she said.

The skin rustled on the back of Amy's neck, bursting with bumps. Is she just curious, or is she trying to look good at my expense? Why is she only asking me? She wished that Mimi were beside her. She would know how to shut this situation down, but Amy had zero experience.

Although her love life was no one's damned business, Amy sensed that failure to comply would result in lost face. She pulled her phone out and flipped through the photos, stalling for time.

A picture of Matt and herself slid by, and Amy paused. Girls turned almost green with envy whenever Matt paid particular attention to her in public. If she presented this picture to the group, then she would come out of this looking great. Angela's boyfriend was probably handsome to some, but he didn't hold a candle to Matt.

But, even with the current strain between them, the thought of passing over Izzy in favor of Matt made her chest ache. Her fingers swapped to a picture of herself and Izzy, taken on Halloween. He was squished up beside her, looking flushed, uncomfortable, and stiff. Amy smiled down at him and slammed the phone on the table with an air of defiance.

He wasn't handsome, not in the traditional sense. And that meant he wouldn't score many points here. But she drew herself up proudly as Angela picked up the phone.

Angela's hand covered her mouth, a token effort to hold back her laughter. The other girls started laughing, too, and Amy shook her head. She knew a few of them were smart; why were they mindlessly following Angela's lead? Amy longed to be surrounded by her own little pack of women. Mimi, Sora, and Kari would never change their personality to suit the mood of a group.

"Sorry, sorry!" Angela said. "It's just, ah... He's so short."

"Is he?" Amy drawled. Her face settled into a relaxed smile. "I hadn't noticed."

A few brows rose, but no one said anything. Amy could almost feel the shift in power among the table. The temptation to keep talking, to shrug off any attack Angela could make, to increase her lead, was overwhelming. But somehow, she could feel Mimi's hand on her shoulder.

Mean girls love to cry about how everyone is so mean to them. If you push, she'll turn the others against you. Just keep letting her set herself up. Amy nodded, as if in agreement.

Angela pulled the photo closer, staring with a critical eye. "How long have you been dating?"

"Hm... About eight or nine months, I think."

"Think?" That pitying smile was back, and Amy forced herself not to react. "Shouldn't you know?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't measure or rate relationships on the basis of time. There are too many other variables to consider."

There was another pause, and Amy took a drink. Maybe it was her imagination, but the more relaxed she felt, the more tense Angela seemed to grow. Angela's gaze fell from Amy's eyes to the table.

Her sudden smile put Amy on guard. "Did he give you that?" she asked, pointing to her amethyst ring. Amy's other hand passed over the ring, as if to shield it.

"Yes." Angela made a beckoning motion, but Amy didn't offer her hand. At last, Angela reached across the table and took hold of her, and Amy yielded so she wouldn't be pulled.

"Oh, sweetie," Angela said, sighing as she examined the ring. "I'm sorry. It's just, you don't know the difference, do you?"

Her instinct was to pull her hand back, but Amy stayed still. What, is my ring not good enough now? She wasn't about to invite Angela to pick at a gift from Izzy, so she stared coldly across the table and said nothing.

Angela patted her hand. "I'm only trying to help. You know a lot about bats and research, but maybe not so much about jewelry."

You're a work horse, Amy translated. Not a woman. However, Angela did look concerned, and Amy wondered if the girl really thought she was being kind. Matt would be able to tell if she was faking it or not, but he was so far away...

Angela tipped the ring into the sparse square of light from the overheads, examining the way it gleamed. "It's a mass produced piece," Angela said gently.

Amy lifted a single eyebrow. "So?"

Angela held her arms out and pointed to a series of bracelets. "These are all one-of-a-kind pieces, made by artisans. You don't want something made by the thousands and shipped to malls all over the country. I can show you how to see the difference, so you get the kind of treatment a girl should get."

Amy doubled over the table and held her breath, but it was no good. The tension in her diaphragm broke free, and she fell into stomach-rumbling laughter. The other girls were staring at her, but she couldn't stop, and she found that she didn't care.

When she recovered, Amy plucked her phone from the hands of another girl, downed the rest of her drink, and stood. "I'm sorry, but this just went from silly to ridiculous. If you are trying to help, then thank you, but I'll decide how to rate a gift from my boyfriend on my own. But if it's drama you're after, look elsewhere. Thanks for the drink."

Then she shouldered through the barricade around the table and entered the crowd, no longer caring about social finesse. She tried to move towards the door, but it was hard to see over the bobbing heads, and she ended up lost in a horrible press of bodies.

Something caught her elbow, and Amy stiffened and turned. An unknown girl was holding on to her. Amy squinted in the poor light and leaned closer. The stranger was slim, with skin the color of natural clay and dark, straight hair.

"Excuse me," the girl said. "My name is Dyani. Could I have a word with you?"

Amy hesitated. She wanted to leave, even though she would have to pay for a cab. But she felt like she was choking in the crowd, so she allowed Dyani to lead her to a free space in the back corner of the bar.

Dyani stood against the wall, and Amy hovered nearby, glancing over her shoulder at the door. "I will not keep you long," Dyani said. "I just wanted to say that your ring is beautiful."

Amy blinked and stepped closer. Dyani's face was sculpted with harsh angles, making it beautiful, but a touch intimidating. She shifted nervously. "Um... Did you hear all of that? I don't recognize you from Dr. Johnson's group."

"I am not in your group," Dyani said. "But I am from your school." She pointed to Amy's hoodie and smiled.

"Oh?" Amy plucked the hoodie and tugged it forward, staring down at Tai's name. She was growing more confused by the minute. "What brings you to Ohio?"

"Our university is allied with the agricultural school here. I am participating in a summer program for livestock husbandry."

"Oh!" The sensible answer soothed some of Amy's nerves. "Okay. That sounds interesting. I'm working with them, too, studying the local bat population. But why did you end up hearing that conversation with my group?"

Dyani nodded at her hoodie. "I was surprised to see that here. I was hoping to talk to you about the team, but then... Well, I should apologize. I should not have listened to your conversation, but it was..." She frowned and tilted her head. "Like watching a disaster unfold. I couldn't seem to back away."

Amy was torn between annoyance and amusement, but laughter won out. "Ahh, well. I would have been entranced, too. It was like a bad tween movie, don't you think?"

Dyani grinned. "Are there any good ones?"

A snorting giggle popped out of her. "Point."

Dyani tipped her head towards Angela's table. "I thought you should know that about half of the group walked away after you left. I think you managed to kickstart their brains."

"Thanks," Amy said, smiling weakly. "But I'm worried that Angela might find ways to make me regret it."

Dyani patted her shoulder. "I would not be so sure. But it is late; would you like to share a cab back to the dorm? And I would like to have your phone number, if you don't mind. I want to talk soccer."

"Oh!" Amy began to shift her weight from foot to foot. "Well... I really care about my cousin more than soccer- he's on the team- so I don't know how much I'll have to talk about. And I sleep during the small morning hours into noon. And…"

Dyani was still calmly smiling, and Amy's tide of excuses trailed away. Somehow, she felt soothed, but also a little chagrined, as if Dyani had gently scolded her for her rudeness. "Uh- Sure. I'm awake in the afternoon? If that works?"

Dyani nodded, called a cab service, and led her outside.

A Few Hours Later

Amy woke with a strangled cry. She pushed up and away, shoving at the body weighing her down, but her hands passed through empty space. But how could that be? She was suffocating beneath a mass of grunting muscle, twisting and writhing in the dark. In seconds, she was so tangled in sheets and blankets that she actually was pinned down. The sensation drove her near hysteria, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Bursts of color lit her vision as she slid towards passing out.

It's okay! It was a dream! Amy seized the thoughts leaking through her panic and clung. Her thrashing tapered off, and she lay on her bed in a stiff, aching heap. Each ragged breath scraped over her lungs like sandpaper.

The room was dark, and Amy pressed her back against a cold, hard wall, shrinking away from the unknown. Her hands groped around, seeking information that her eyes could not provide. They found nothing but sweaty fabric and a knobby mattress.

He's not here. No one's here. I'm in a dorm room in Ohio, remember? Despite the assurances, Amy's heart continued to crash against her ribs like a cymbal in the silent room. I'm okay. Nothing happened. It was a dream.

Although the evidence for her dream hypothesis was solid, she couldn't believe it. Amy cupped her breasts, but there was no soreness, no bruising. Her fingertips slid over her neck, searching for aching marks left by teeth and tongue and lips. Nothing. Just smooth, hot skin, slick with cooling sweat. Everything seemed to be in order, but the anxiety remained. There was only one way to prove to herself that all was well. She sighed into the darkness and prepared to rise.

The concrete floor was like ice beneath her bare feet, but she swallowed an exclamation and flew to the light switch. A whimper of gratitude slid out when illumination laid the room bare. Amy collapsed against the wall as she scrutinized every cranny of the dorm room and checked that the door was locked.

Once she was convinced that she was alone, she slunk back to the bed, leaving the lights on. Her nose wrinkled when she saw how damp and tangled the sheets were. She backed away, opened the blinds, and sighed with relief. There was a faint glow over the horizon, a halo that would purge the darkness. Amy sat in her desk chair and stared at it, willing it to grow and spread.

The sun was fully visible by the time Amy calmed, but a sick, cold feeling remained. She wanted to sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes. Whenever she did, even just to blink, she saw Jerry on top of her, caught in a frenzy that was part lust and part dominance. Amy clamped a hand to her mouth, swallowed hard, and jumped from the chair.

Can't be alone. Don't want to be alone. Amy seized her cell phone and began to pace, no longer feeling the cold caught in the concrete. Names flew by as she scrolled down her contact list, but no one seemed ideal. She couldn't tell Tai or Matt. If they knew that she was having nightmares about prom night again, the scars of guilt would open and bleed anew. TK and Kari were too young for something this difficult.

Amy's fingertip hovered over Izzy's name. She sank onto the bed and stared at the display for a long time. She was desperate to hear his voice, and yet…

That horrible feeling of being forgotten rose like a foul vapor in her mind. She recalled the intervening days of stiff, short conversations, tainted with guilt and embarrassment on his side and pain on hers.

Amy sat the phone on the edge of the desk, laid down, and stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and tried to think of anything but her nightmare, and of how very alone she felt.

Another Day

Izzy was sitting at his desk, trying to discern why his program was crashing. No matter how close he leaned towards the screen, or how hard he squinted, the symbols remained blurred.

His shoulders slumped, triggering a chain reaction of pain down his spine. Hissing, he eased his aching body to its feet and tried to walk off the soreness. But the hurt had bitten into his muscles, and his attempt to loosen them was too little, too late.

Izzy stood, then fell onto his bed with a groan. Despite the pain, he felt oddly detached from his body, as if his consciousness might float away.

I'll just close my eyes for a moment. His to-do list was slipping out of control, but how was he supposed to code when he couldn't read his screen?

Just a few minutes...

A Few Hours Later

Joe stood outside the door of Izzy's summer dorm room. He took a deep breath, then knocked hard enough to wake the dead.

A few doors opened in the hall, and Joe ignored the scowling students. He knocked louder still, then half-shouted, "For God's sake, Izzy!"

The door lurched inward, ducking away from his fist. Izzy stood in the portal, sagging against the frame. "Joe. What seems to be the matter?"

A beat of silence passed as Joe looked his friend over. Izzy's eyes seemed enormous, and, leaning closer, Joe realized that the skin around them had darkened. The weight he had gained over freshman year had melted off, leaving him thinner than ever. He was nearly doubled over, reducing his apparent size.

On the whole, it appeared that Izzy had morphed into a tiny, cave-dwelling animal over the first few weeks of summer.

Joe nudged him into the room and closed the door. "Sit down before you fall down," he said through gritted teeth. Izzy obeyed, which only confirmed Joe's assessment of his condition.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Izzy's attempt at standoffishness was marred by the way he fell onto his bed. Joe dropped his bulging messenger bag on the desk and bent over his friend, staring into his face.

"Coloring's poor," he muttered. He splayed his palm over Izzy's forehead and tsked. He was overheated and clammy.

Izzy sighed and pinched his eyes shut. "Joe. Why are you here? Don't you have work at the hospital?"

"Ah- Izzy?" Joe said, grimacing. "It's Saturday. You do know it's Saturday, right?"

Izzy's cheek twitched. "Hm," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I suppose that's why I was assigned so much work yesterday. It's not due until Monday, then..."

"Oh... kaaaay." Joe hovered over Izzy, shifting through his agitated impressions. It wasn't uncommon for Izzy to lose sight of the date and time when he was absorbed in work, but when he looked so ill, such forgetfulness frightened Joe.

Joe turned to the mini fridge, intending to force his friend to drink and eat. To his surprise, it was empty.

"Izzy, where's your stash of water?"

"Hm?" Izzy jerked upright, as if he had nodded off. "Ah- Ah, yes. I ran out. I keep meaning to pick up more..."

Joe's back cracked as he twisted around. "You haven't been drinking or eating, have you." He pulled the food and drinks from his bag without waiting for an answer, spreading them out on the desk. When Izzy began to argue, Joe lifted the lid of the takeout container. Izzy stared at the sandwich, salad, and soup, hesitated, then took a seat at the desk.

"Thank you," he muttered, lifting the soup to his lips. Joe watched him for a moment, then sank onto the bed.

Alright. I've accomplished that much. Now for the really fun part. "I'm here because your mother and your girlfriend both messaged me. You apparently haven't picked up your phone in two days, and Amy thought your reply to her email was, ah, disjointed."

Izzy lifted a brow, but didn't stop drinking the soup. "It had strings of code in the middle of it," Joe snapped. He reached for the phone on the edge of the desk and sighed. "Battery's dead. Your charger is like a foot away..." His temper spiked as he plugged the device in. "God, Izzy. People care about you, you know. This isn't how you should repay them." Izzy lowered the plastic bowl and licked his lips. "Yes, I... I know. It's not intentional, but…" He leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. "I don't feel well."

Joe shuddered. Izzy rarely took correction or offered information without an argument. It should have been a relief, but his submission made Joe's anxiety spike. "It might be hunger and thirst. We'll see how you feel after you're done."

Izzy rummaged through his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of pain killers. "What's wrong?" Joe asked, eying the pills.

"Headache. Muscle pain." Izzy downed half of a water bottle in one extended swig.

"Slow down," Joe said. Izzy nodded, took his pills, and moved on to the salad. "What is this all about, Izzy? You look half starved." Not to mention beaten.

"It's too much work," Izzy sighed. "I keep trying not to admit it, but... Between classes, working for Dr. Edwards, private tutoring, and being a TA, I've got too much on my plate. I keep forgetting to eat, and I'm not sleeping as much as I should."

Joe was tempted to point out that Izzy never ate or slept as much as he should, but he couldn't bring himself to pick at him when he looked so subdued. "Can you drop something?"

"I'm going to stop being a TA when the semester ends," Izzy said. "It's a shame, because I enjoy it, but I can't say that it's worth the strain."

Joe nodded. "You really don't look well, Izzy. And your mom and Amy are really worried about you."

Izzy flinched and closed his eyes. "Did... Did Amy seem upset?"

What's this, now? Joe had assumed that any problems with Izzy were physical, stemming from overwork and his careless attitude towards his body. He wasn't prepared to mention Amy's name and receive a pained reaction.

"She was worried about you, but I wouldn't say she was upset with you." Should she be? Joe didn't ask, but the question hovered between them.

Izzy shoved his salad forward and tipped his chair towards the bed. Joe wanted to order him to keep eating, but his miserable expression overrode the objection.

"I knew from the start that I could only disappoint as a boyfriend," he said. "I shouldn't have... Well, I suppose it's too late for that."

"Izzy! What are you- Amy's crazy about you."

The redhead's twisted smile had him shivering. "Yes. She was, more's the pity."

Oh, past tense. Past tense is not good. "What did you do?"

Izzy doubled over and pressed his fingertips against his forehead. "Shall I write you a list?" he said. He didn't wait for an answer, which was fortunate, because it probably would have consisted mostly of swearing.

Izzy's hands wound together with enough pressure to whiten the knuckles. "I suppose it began when I told her that I'm not interested in sex."

"You what?" Izzy lifted an eyebrow in response to Joe's volume and emotion. His face went hot as he struggled to clarify. "I just- She's- She's cute and pleasant, and she's so into you, I just- You really don't respond to that?" Joe enjoyed Mimi's methods of drawing a man's sexual interest, and he didn't think anyone else's attempts would move him at present. But he couldn't imagine that Amy's combination of earnestness and open devotion could fail to move someone who cared for her.

Izzy cradled his face in his hands. "That's not the problem. I just... I'm not ready, Joe. If our interactions grow too... heated, I panic. I tried to explain without being too specific, and Amy accepted it. But the more time passes, the more it scrapes at her."

Joe tried to think of a response, but he was overwhelmed. It was hard to believe that Izzy was opening up to him without a fight. Was that the natural result of the confidences that had passed between them over the year, or did it signal the depths of Izzy's need for help? "Er," he said, falling back on his limited experience. "Sex seemed frightening to me, too. Mimi wanted it long before I felt able. But it's easy with someone who cares about you, Izzy. If you explained everything fully, I'm sure Amy would work with you."

"I can't." Izzy's voice rose to a tight whine, and he looked away from Joe and cleared his throat. "I can't. Not yet."

"She wouldn't think less of you if she knew about your ex," Joe said gently. Izzy shook his head.

"She may not," he agreed. "But I think less of myself because of it, and I... I don't want to take that risk with someone who thinks so highly of me."

"You're going to have to eventually." Izzy sighed, but said nothing. "Look- Izzy. I'm no expert, but… Make sure she knows that you care about her, okay? Mimi's always complaining that Amy doesn't have enough confidence. If Amy thinks you're avoiding sex because you're not attracted to her, or because you don't care, then it's going to cause problems."

Izzy abandoned the desk and sank onto the bed beside Joe. He watched with disbelief as Izzy's hand moved towards him, then faltered and fell away. "I'll keep that in mind, but unfortunately, I've already caused problems."

For God's sake, Izzy, what now? Joe wanted to say a lot more, but forced himself to stick with, "Oh?" With much pausing and hedging, Izzy described forgetting about Amy's departure for Ohio. Joe listened with mounting concern and annoyance.

When Izzy finished, Joe removed his glasses and massaged his temples. "Damn it, Izzy. How can someone so smart be so clueless?"

Izzy stared at the cinder block walls with dull, unfocused eyes. "There are many types of intelligence, Joe. While I've received more than the typical share of logic and problem solving, I have nothing in the way of social skills."

"Not to mention the mind-body connection." Joe took hold of Izzy's wrist and squeezed. His skin went taut against the bone with faint pressure. "Would you eat your damned sandwich?" he snapped. "Where are my glasses..."

Izzy reached around him, handed over the glasses, and sat back at the desk. "What should I do?" he asked. "Amy turns the subject away from my mistake if I bring it up. She's cheerful enough on the phone, but our conversations are so superficial now. All she discusses is her work."

Izzy unwrapped his sandwich as Joe deliberated. "Do you think she's upset? Is she holding a grudge?" It was hard to imagine Amy doing that, but people weren't at their best when they hurt. A few days in the hospital had taught him that.

"I almost wish she were." Izzy slumped against his desk. "I think... I'm afraid she took a step back from me. I hurt her, and now she's withdrawing, so that the next blow will hurt less."

Joe sprang to his feet without willing it. "Izzy- That's serious." His friend grunted around a mouth full of sandwich. "Well- Don't just sit there eating! What are you going to do?"

Izzy's eyes narrowed over chewing cheeks. "You ordered me to eat. And I don't know what to do. Amy wants me to visit her, but how can I manage that with my work lode? And I'm not sure that she's thinking clearly. She's said herself that there's nothing to do around her campus, and that she's had to shift to a nocturnal schedule. What would we do, sleeping at different times in the middle of now-"

Joe grabbed Izzy's chair and flipped it around, so that he was standing over him. "Don't be an idiot," he said. "She doesn't care about being entertained. She wants to see you, she wants to be convinced that you care about her. And I hope you didn't give those excuses when she asked, because that's exactly what someone who doesn't care about her would say!"

Izzy swallowed, then choked and dove for his water bottle. By the time the fit passed, he was red-faced and gasping. "I'm not being unfeeling!" he cried. "I'm being practical."

"Practical?" Joe snorted. "You're being assessing. Visiting Amy comes at a cost to you: the money for transportation, the hours lost at your job, the inconvenience of working around her schedule, and, most of all, knowing you, the time it would take away from your studies and your programming."

Anger and animation spiked, then fled from Izzy's face. "I, I don't- She'll be back in two months. With all of those considerations you listed, doesn't it make more sense to wait?"

Fury filled him, slipping all the way up his throat, leaving an oddly metallic taste. But the confusion on Izzy's face beat it back by inches. Joe sighed and placed a hand on Izzy's shoulder.

"I know it's hard for you to wrap your head around this, but a romantic relationship isn't always about what makes sense," he said. "There are costs associated with everything, and you're right to keep them in mind. But you're wrong to ignore Amy's feelings, to assume that she'll still want to see you in two months if you let this go on. You suspect that Amy is hurting and pulling away, right? How does that weigh in your ledger? Because if you're always going to value practicality over her feelings, then my advice would be to dump her now. It's kinder."

Izzy paled, swallowed, and made a disgusted expression, as if he had choked back a mouthful of vomit. "I know I've misstepped, but… Do you truly believe I'm mistreating her that badly?"

Joe breathed in and out until the desire to knock sense into Izzy passed. "It wouldn't be so bad if she weren't so invested in you. But she really seems to love you, and when you hurt her, it probably hurts deeply. I hate to think of Amy suffering because you're bad to her. And I hate to think of you losing her."

Izzy blinked away the glint of moisture over his eyes. "What should I do?"

Joe forced a reassuring smile. "First, take care of yourself. I don't like seeing you in this condition, and Amy wouldn't, either. Rest. Eat. Give me your wallet."

Izzy shifted and reached into his pocket. "Why?"

"I'm going to stock you up on some things you'll actually eat: fruit, cereal, salads, lunch meat, water… And you're going to sleep until I get back."

"Am I." Despite his snotty tone, Izzy started lying on his side. Joe put away the food he had brought under the supervision of heavy, dark eyes. Then, Izzy turned towards the wall and pulled the covers up.

"We'll discuss this further when you return?" he asked. Joe paused by the door, surprised by the request.

"Uh… Yeah. If you'd like."

"Thank you."

Despite everything, Joe smiled as he stepped into the hall.

Author's Notes:

Apparently, I am a hobbit, because I celebrate my birthday in hobbit style: by giving a gift of words to you, my readers! HAPPY HOBBIT BIRTHDAY!

Dang, am I tired of the summer arc already. I'm going to wrap it up ASAP. I'm hoping that it won't stretch beyond three more chapters.

Next chapter will include a segment on Matt's band, Amy and Dyani hanging out, and more Angela mischief.