Fall Semester & Winter Break, Junior Year, 2014-2015

Shea thought a lot about her relationship after her talk with Rodrick. It never used to bother her that she and Zack weren't very emotionally close, but now it was all she could think about. She missed being in love—so certain that she was going to have a future with someone. Even though they'd technically been together for a year in the fall, neither she nor Zack had said "I love you."

Meanwhile, Celine constantly made sappy posts about Rodrick on social media. Shea couldn't help but roll her eyes every time Celine uploaded a black and white shot of Rodrick kissing her cheek, her foot popped up like she was in the damn Princess Diaries. It made Shea wonder how Roddrick fit into her highly filtered life.

It also didn't help that Zack frequently flirted with other girls—sometimes right in front of her. Every time she called him out on it, he spun up a different defense ("I'm just being friendly;" "Hey, she came onto me!"). She knew that Zack had the reputation of a flirt before they got together, but she had thought that them being together meant he would stop. Had he been playing the field their entire relationship?

The bitterness from her recent realizations made her short with Zack, and his constant playfulness and "go with the flow" attitude grated her. If she tried to talk to him about a problem, no matter how big or small, he only ever told her it would be fine or that she was overthinking. It made Shea want to scream.

Part of her wanted to ask him point blank if he loved her, but if she was being honest, she wasn't sure if she loved him. Shea thought the answer was yes, but it definitely wasn't the same love that she had for Rodrick. When she asked her friends what she should do, they all, especially Priya, insisted she ask… or just break up with him.

But she couldn't bring herself to. Even if the answer in reality was no, he thought this was just a long-term fling and they were on completely different pages, Shea still liked the feeling of being wanted.

More than anything, Shea didn't want to be alone.

"Eat shit, 2014!"

The crowd erupted with excitement; their yells echoed into the night sky as she and Zack approached the party, snow crunching beneath their boots. When Shea unlatched the gate into Ben's backyard, a bottle rocket suddenly whizzed past her head.

"What the fuck, man!" she yelled at Ben, who was smiling sheepishly at her.

"Sorry, dude, didn't see you there."

Shea sighed, but Zack laughed. "Holy shit. You almost died."

"I know," she snapped.

The night had barely begun, but she was already over it. Shea hadn't actually wanted to come tonight, but Zack insisted. It was New Year's Eve, and he wanted to party. Everyone partied on New Year's, Shea.

Shea wanted to take him nighttime hiking in the Viaducts, a huge, decommissioned stone bridge that was infamous for spray paint artwork. Shea thought it would be cool to light up a blunt and do some illegal painting. Zack, though, only had drunkenness in mind. This is why he was in a fraternity: he thrived around people.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, sensing her anger.

"I'm fine," she answered curtly.

"Let's get a drink."

Zack knew the magic words to soothe her stress. Shea led him inside into the basement, where a dozen people she didn't know were crowded around the big-screen TV, shouting intensely at a game of Mario Kart. Heavy rock music accompanied the game's jingles, and a few smaller groups of people were scattered around the room, chatting animatedly.

Zack was immediately distracted by the game of Mario Kart, so Shea poured two heavy-handed rum and cokes. It figures that he would make fast friends and ditch her. She took a long, cold sip and contemplated her next move: join Zack at the game or wander outside to get drunk by herself near the bonfire.

"Hey!" Rodrick said brightly, snapping her back to reality. He was familiarly handsome in a Dead Kennedys t-shirt and jeans; Celine contrasted in a shimmery gold bodycon dress that hugged her every curve. "You made it. I didn't think you were coming tonight."

Shea gestured to Zack, who was now heavily invested in the big screen game. "He wanted to come. He's only here for a few days, so…"

"That's your boyfriend?" Celine asked, watching as Zack clapped with the crowd at Yoshi's hard-earned victory. Shea thought she heard a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Yes, that's Zack," Shea clarified. Celine nodded a few times, mostly to herself. "Let me introduce you. Hey, Zachary!"

Zack seemed to know he was being summoned. He turned on his heel and approached the group with his best frat boy smile.

"Hey, guys!" Zack met Rodrick's grasp first. "I'm—"

"Zack. I'm Rodrick," Rodrick said in an unusually confident voice. He was gripping Zack's hand so tightly Shea thought she saw his knuckles turn white.

But if Rodrick's grip hurt, Zack didn't show it. He offered his hand to Celine next. "And you are?"

"Celine," she said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, gorgeous."

Shea narrowed her eyes at Zack, but her boyfriend didn't notice. Celine giggled at the compliment.

"Thanks," she glowed.

"Do you guys want to go outside and chat?" Shea asked, hoping to regain control of the situation.

"Oh, I'm up next," Zack said, pointing at the TV.

"How?" Shea balked; her boyfriend gave her a goofy grin.

"I'd love to sit next to a big ass fire," Rodrick offered.

Next to him, Celine shrugged. "I think Mario Kart sounds like fun."

"Great," Shea said. She didn't care if she sat outside by herself all damn night. "I'll be outside."

"I'll join you," Rodrick offered.

Luckily, none of the chairs around the bonfire were taken. Nearby, Ben and a few friends that Shea didn't know were playing a card game, placing the cards on top of the thin layer of snow that coated the ground. In the few minutes she had been inside, it had started to snow—the white flakes were beautiful against the dark sky. Shea grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it closer to the fire, the warmth soaking her bones.

"You alright?" Rodrick asked, placing his chair next to hers.

"Yeah, fine," Shea said more sharply than she intended. When Rodrick raised his eyebrows, she relented, "I didn't want to come tonight. I figured, it's the holidays, let's just spend some alone time together while you're here for a few days, but no. We need to be out. We need to party."

"I don't know why he wouldn't want to be alone with you," Rodrick said. "That was all I could think about when we were together."

Shea's cheeks reddened. "Well, we were young and horny. I don't blame you."

"Were?" Rodrick repeated with a chuckle. "It's only been three years."

"I'm ancient now," Shea joked.

Rodrick barked a laugh, which warmed the coldness of Shea's heart.

Shea and Rodrick dove headfirst into conversation. She covered the ins and outs of her classroom experience from the semester, and Rodrick shared that he was officially promoted. His dad was apparently so proud that he said Rodrick no longer needed to go to college. But, he would need to start paying his parents a small amount of rent.

"Holy shit, dude. You're living the dream," Shea grinned.

"Not quite," Rodrick conceded.

"Well, what are you missing?"

"A multi-million dollar recording contract," Rodrick quipped, and Shea laughed.

Even after all this time and everything they'd been through, Shea found it so easy to talk to Rodrick. No matter the topic, he was animated and engaged; it was a far cry from her conversations with Zack. Rodrick agreed with her fervently that Taking Back Sunday was better than Brand New (thus settling a debate with her roommates); he encouraged her newfound goal to earn a special education minor; and he seemed genuinely interested in the little details of her dad's wedding.

Shea, too, loved hearing about Rodrick's life: the songs he was writing in his downtime for the band; the colleges Greg was thinking of applying to, and how Manny was doing in elementary school; and how much he surprised himself by enjoying the monotony of work at the county club. To him, it was an easy dollar, and he got to indulge his hobbies.

"I get to listen to a lot of cool music," Rodrick said. "I'll send you a few songs I think you'll like."

"If it's not Avril, I'm not interested," she joked, and Rodrick snorted.

Shea finally checked her phone around 11, nearly two hours after they arrived. The snow was falling harder and sticking to the ground, covering the footprints she and Rodrick had left from the basement door. She knew the ball dropped in an hour, but snow in Chicagoland was no joke; unless she wanted to be stranded at Ben's overnight (and likely into the next day), she would need to call an Uber and get going.

"I'll follow you in," Rodrick said. "It's freezing out here."

So, together, they walked back inside. The brightness and noise of the basement was jarring—Shea had forgotten there was a big, bustling party inside. When she glanced around for Zack, she couldn't find him, but didn't think much of it. Maybe he was in a bathroom or getting another drink. She wrote him a quick text asking where he disappeared to and then set off in search of an empty bathroom.

Shea got lucky on the main floor—it was blessedly quiet upstairs, too. She wandered into the brightly lit kitchen, where several boxes of pizza were stacked on the counter. She checked her phone again and had no response from Zack, so she sent a second, more urgent message, saying they needed to get rolling. Where the hell had he gone?

A few more minutes passed without a response, so Shea decided to wander back downstairs. Zack wasn't near the makeshift bar nor the group of people now playing Smash Bros. She tried calling him, but his phone rang through to voicemail.

Rodrick approached her as she shoved her phone into her back pocket. "Hey," he asked, "Have you seen Celine?"

"No. Have you seen Zack?"

"No…"

A hard lump grew in Shea's throat. She didn't want to say it out loud—she was being paranoid, right?

"We should look for them," Rodrick said quickly, like he too was grappling with the obvious conclusion.

Shea wordlessly followed Rodrick up a flight of stairs. They checked the bedroom on the main level, which was empty, before ascending up the next staircase. And then Shea heard a noise that made her stop in her tracks.

It was a groan. More specifically, the kind of groan that Zack made when they were being intimate.

"This way," Rodrick muttered, gesturing to the closest bedroom door. He must have heard it too.

Shea thought their heavy footsteps would surely give them away—that they might find them frantically covering up or Celine would dive under the bed to hide. But when they opened the door to the nearest room, Rodrick and Shea saw Celine with Zack's penis in her mouth.

"What the fuck!" Shea erupted. Her heart pounded in her chest so loudly she thought it would shake the room.

Zack yelped with surprise and Celine tumbled onto the floor, but Shea was completely uninterested in what would happen next. She turned on her heel and stormed down the stairs, out the front door, and into the driveway. Her ears rang loudly with nothingness. Her eyes and throat burned with fury and frustration and… Fuck! This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening…

"We should go," Rodrick's voice startled her; he must have been right behind her on the way down, but she didn't hear him. "I'll give you a ride."

"Shea!"

The front door slammed for a second time. Zack was standing in the doorway, his words and his breath freezing in front of her. Shea was nauseated by the sight of him.

"Nope," she said loudly, her voice echoing into the night.

Shea started towards Rodrick's truck, but Zack ran over to her, stumbling in the newly fallen snow.

"Wait!" he yelled as he closed the gap between them, "It's not what you think!"

As Zack approached, Rodrick took a protective step in front of Shea, separating the two.

"I think you had your dick in her mouth," Shea said acidly.

Zack's face twisted with anguish. She knew he was just upset he had been caught. He tried to step closer to Shea, but Rodrick stopped him with his hand on his chest.

"Come on, dude, I'm trying to talk to Shea," Zack said to Rodrick.

It all happened so quickly: Rodrick shoved Zack backwards. Zack stumbled; when he regained his footing, he charged Rodrick, his eyes wild with anger. Rodrick tightened his fist and slammed it into Zack's cheek, knocking him onto his back—Shea yelped at the sound of fist meeting face.

Rodrick shook his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers. When Zack stirred, Rodrick turned and started towards his truck.

"Come on," Rodrick urged, and Shea followed.

They quickly walked over to the truck and hopped inside. Rodrick's movements were mechanical: he pulled on his seatbelt, turned the engine, and activated the windshield wipers to get rid of the layer of snow on top. Shea glanced over to the house, where Zack was already walking back towards the front door, probably to find Celine and finish what they started.

That thought alone broke her. By the time Rodrick pulled to the bottom of the driveway, Shea was sobbing. She was gasping, heaving, so utterly fucking broken by what had just happened. At least she had the answer to her lingering question: Zack didn't love her.

"What the fuck," was all Shea could say between sobs.

It took her several long minutes, and many deep breaths, to get control of her tears. Her anguish was replaced by a familiar feeling of numbness. She had to face it: she was used to being alone, to being second best.

When she glanced at Rodrick, she saw he had one hand on the wheel and the other pressed into his temple, his eyes glazed with sadness. He was driving slowly, carefully, against the heavy snowfall. The radio was on, soft acoustic rock music coming through the speakers.

She wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know what. Sorry for introducing them? Sorry for coming to the party at all? Sorry he needed to drive her home in this ridiculous snowstorm?

Just then, her phone vibrated in her back pocket. It was Zack—he had called three times before that, too. She shook her head and powered off her phone.

"No," she said, mostly to herself. Rodrick didn't acknowledge that she spoke.

It took 20 minutes to get to Shea's apartment, but it felt like much longer with the snow covering the roads. It was edging closer to midnight—lights were on in several other apartments. Shea was grateful they hadn't lost power.

"Do you want to come in?" Shea asked. "You shouldn't be driving. The roads are shitty."

"Yeah," Rodrick said, pulling the key out of the engine. "That's fine."

Together, they crunched through the snow up to Shea's building and up three small flights of stairs to her apartment. The apartment was just as she left it a few hours ago: blankets tossed on the couch, empty cups on the coffee table, the central heater humming in the background.

Shea noticed Zack's pajama shirt on the floor—the sight of it filled her with fury. She hastily swiped it up, and soon, began frantically hunting for his other stuff: his toothbrush, glasses case, hair wax… Everything went back into his suitcase. Fuck him and his fucking mess. Fuck him for cheating on her. She couldn't believe she had ever dated him in the first place!

"Do you need help?" Rodrick asked as she stomped from room to room like a tornado.

"No," she said. "You can turn on the TV. I'll be done in a minute."

Now that she was cleaning up, all she wanted was for Zack to be out of her life—physically and emotionally. Her sadness bubbled into anger, and soon, she was questioning what she ever saw in him. Yeah, he was cute, but he never actually cared about her. She was duped; she would never make this mistake again.

When Shea had shoved all of his shit into his suitcase, she dragged it out onto the balcony off her bedroom and heaved it over the side. It fell three stories with a heavy thud into the snow and bushes beneath her room.

Good. Fucking. Riddance.

When Shea reemerged from her bedroom, she had changed into sweats and fuzzy socks. Her hair was frizzy and her septum ring was most certainly crooked. She was sure she looked like a closet gremlin, but she didn't care.

While she had been on her cleaning frenzy, Rodrick had tidied up part of the living room for her. The gesture softened her hardened heart. He had taken off his coat and propped his feet up on the coffee table, staring absentmindedly at the TV, which was playing some New Year's Eve countdown show.

"Do you wanna smoke?" she asked him, thinking of the vape pen she had stashed in her room. "I think I've got some vodka too unless Fuck Face drank it all."

Rodrick snorted. "I would love to not be sober right now."

She tossed him the vape pen and melted into the couch, suddenly exhausted by the last hour of her life. Her brain tortured her by reliving the moment they opened the door—she could clearly see Zack's head tilted back in ecstasy, Celine's silver hair tucked behind her ear. Ugh.

Marijuana helped soften her intense feelings; she could see the same happening for Rodrick, who was suddenly making fun of Ryan Seacrest. It felt good to forget. When the ball finally dropped and 2015 officially began, they had the same reaction: a dull, half-hearted cheer. They burst into laughter at the other's identical reaction.

It didn't take long after the ball dropped for Shea's eyelids to get heavy. It was strange to think that, just a few hours ago, she would have snuggled up in bed next to Zack tonight. Now, even thinking of touching him made her gag. At least her pillow would cuddle with her.

"I'm beat," she announced. "I'm gonna go to bed. My dad's obviously not home if you want to use his room."

"Meh," Rodrick said. "I feel weird sleeping in your dad's bed."

Then, as if on cue, the power in the apartment cut off. They were suddenly plunged into darkness, and the heater stopped its white noise hum. A person in the apartment across the hall yelled, "Oh shit!"

"Well then," Shea said, now extra glad she was headed for her bed.

"It's gonna get cold," Rodrick said, grabbing a blanket off of Shea's lap.

"Hope you can sleep in the tundra."

"You bet."

They held each other's stare… as best they could in the dark. Shea wasn't sure why she was hesitating to get up now when she had been so exhausted just moments ago. It could have been the marijuana or her loneliness, but part of her wanted to cuddle up with Rodrick on the couch—to be safe and warm in his arms.

Oof, yeah, she'd better get to bed before her vulnerable brain made a choice she may regret.

"Good night," Shea said softly.

"Night."

Shea could not sleep in silence. It had been this way her entire life; she'd almost always needed some sort of white noise to distract her busy brain. Normally the heater would lull her to sleep, but with the power out, she'd need to use a noise machine app on her phone.

Sometime after she left the party, Zack sent her a few texts: "pick up ur phone", "i'm so sorry… pls just talk to me", and, amusingly, "fuck u bitch."

Shea shook her head and rolled her eyes. She sent him a reply only to say that his luggage was outside and he should remove her number from his phone.

Shea had hoped she would fall asleep quickly, but her mind would not stop wandering. If she was being honest, too, it felt weird for her bed to be empty. She didn't realize how much she missed the weight of another person next to her. She tossed and turned several times, unable to find a comfortable position.

At some point during her unsuccessful attempts to doze—she wasn't sure if it was ten minutes or two hours—Rodrick's voice nearly jolted her out of bed.

"Hey."

"Oh my god." Shea rolled over, her hand on her chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "I'm cold and I can't sleep. This is gonna sound weird but… can I lay here with you?"

Heat rose in Shea's cheeks; she was glad it was dark. Was he being serious?

"Sure," she tried to say as casually as possible.

Rodrick didn't hesitate; he invited himself under her covers. His presence soothed her—his smell was comforting and familiar. She rolled towards him, watching as his chest rhythmically rose and fell. At that moment, she wanted so badly to touch him—to run her fingers over his hands and up his arms. Did he feel this same pull?

Shea needed to control herself. A voice in the back of her head snapped at her, "Don't do it. Just go to sleep."

So she tried. And she must have at some point, because the next time she woke, it was still dark, but Rodrick's arm was wrapped around her body, pulling her close to him.

She knew she should probably roll away, but she didn't. Shea fell back asleep with a smile.