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I been holding my breath? And why? It’s not like I like him, like him. Or that I can even have a normal conversation with him. But maybe I want to, and that’s probably the simplest reason for my reaction.
    “You ready to head for home?” Mom walks through the door that Ethan’s holding open for her.
    “Sure.” I shrug. “Whatever.”
    “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mom’s standing close to Ethan. Not close enough to suggest a kiss, but closer than you would to a friend. She reaches out and touches his arm. “Thanks.”
    I watch her hand slowly slide off his forearm, and wonder again what it would be like to touch without getting visions.

FIVE
     
    It feels good to stretch my legs as I hit the pavement, even though it’s six in the morning on a Sunday . One of the two stupid days a week when I could stay in bed as long as I want, and I’m up. Insomnia sucks, but is an occasional hazard of being me.
    I walk the two blocks uphill to the café, which was a mechanic shop in a former life. My favorite thing about the place is the old garage doors—complete with windowpanes and rollers. I step inside and breathe in the smell of fresh coffee. The orange walls add another layer of warmth to the place.
    Steven, honor society Steven, is sitting at a small table with a cup clutched tightly in his hands. There’s a large bruise on the side of his face. My stomach turns over, and my chest constricts. I’m sure I know where the bruise came from, but there’s really nothing I can do. I don’t think.
    “Hey, Micah.” His eyes lift from the table as I order.
    “Hey.” I turn away. Now I’m faced with the dilemma of whether or not I stick around. It seems rude to walk out, but I don’t know how to talk to him. The cashier slides my drink across the counter. I pick it up, still swimming in indecision. Sitting with Steven is not going to help me disappear.
    Even without that thought running through my head, I take the chair across from him. Why am I doing this?
    I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t take my eyes away from the bruise. It’s on his upper cheek and around the outside of his eye. What did he get hit with?
    “Riding my bike,” he says.
    Our eyes meet.
    “What?” I take a sip of my drink to give me something to do. Again, why did I sit here? I know he’s lying.
    “My face.” He spins his paper cup around on the table.
    “You’re a senior this year.” I stare at the table.
    “Yeah.” He stops moving and looks at me.
    “Can’t you find somewhere else to be?” We both know what I’m talking about. I can tell because he shifts in his seat and stares at the floor.
    He pauses for a moment before speaking. “It’s not…”
    “Don’t lie Steven, and don’t tell me it’s not a big deal. It’s a big deal.” I keep my voice low. There aren’t a lot of people in this small place, but there are enough for me to keep quiet.
    Steven stares at his cup as his face pales.
    The door bursts open making me jump, and Landon stumbles through, rubbing his eyes.
    Steven and I watch as his feet make each careful step on his way to order. His eyes are rimmed with shadow and stare at nothing.
    “Hey, Megan.” He leans over the counter, putting his face close to the cashier, but he doesn’t even look like he’s flirting. Just drunk.
    She blushes and attempts to hold in her smile. “You’re out late.”
    “How do you know I’m not up early?” He’s still not flirting. Not really. He looks…black, if that’s a word I can use to describe someone.
    Steven lets out a snort of disgust.
    I should turn away but can’t.
    “Because I know you, Landon.” She leans so far forward that I swear their noses are only a few inches apart. “What can I get you?”
    “Anything with massive amounts of caffeine and sugar. I need it before heading home. My night was beyond hellish.” His weight shifts, and he doesn’t exactly stumble, but he’s also nowhere near upright. I don’t know why it surprises me.