Then there’s a lull in conversation, and someone asks from across the table, “How did you two end up working together, anyway?”

Everyone tunes in after that. All eyes are on Levi and me. Sadly, Levi is chewing on a potato wedge. So I say, “It’s

an NIH-NASA collab, Mike.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Mike looks a bit buzzed, but he takes another sip of his punch. He was a third year when I joined the lab. Also: he was a shithead.

“But, like, how are you two

managing it? Levi, do you bleach your brain after every meeting, or . . . ?”

My cheeks burn. Some people chuckle, a couple laugh outright, and others look away, clearly embarrassed. Sam frowns, and from the corner of my eye I see Tim smirk. I wish I had a witty comeback, but I’m too mortified by the fact that Levi finding me disgusting is still the lab’s funniest inside joke. I open my mouth without knowing what to say, and—

“We’re doing great,” Levi tells Mike, his tone a mix of big-dick calm and I could kill a man with a beach ball. He leisurely puts his arm on the back of my chair, and plucks a grape from my plate. A deafening silence falls at the table. Everyone is looking at us. Everyone. “What about you, Mike?” Levi asks without bothering to look up from my food. “I heard there were problems with your tenure

packet. How’s that coming along?”

“Oh, um . . .”

“Yeah. I thought so.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. I guess Levi’s done eating his potatoes?

“Out of curiosity,” he whispers in my ear once the conversation has moved along and Mike is looking down at his own plate, chastised. “Did everyone think that I hated you, back in grad school? It wasn’t just your delusion?”

“It was a widely known truth.”

His arm tenses around my shoulders, as tight as his jaw.

A few minutes later I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I have eye makeup on, but I say “Screw it” and wash my face with cold water anyway.

Who’s going to be looking at my runny eyeliner anyway? Levi? Weepy Mess Bee is nothing he hasn’t already seen.

Then I notice her. Annie, in the mirror. She’s standing right behind me, waiting for me to finish using the sink. Except there are three more sinks, and zero other people in the bathroom. So maybe it’s just me she’s waiting for.

My head hurts. And so does my heart, around the edges Annie cracked in it two years ago. I can’t talk to her. Can’t.

Can’t. I take my time drying my face with my sleeves. Then I buck up, turn around, and face her.

She’s stunningly beautiful. Always has been. There’s something indescribable about her, something magic that made me happy to be in her presence. Oddly enough, the feeling is still there, a mix of familiarity and love and awe that knifes deep as I stare at her face. Seeing Tim again was painful, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to having Annie right here.

For a moment I’m terrified. She can hurt me very, very deeply with just a few choice words. But then she says, “Bee,” and I realize that she’s crying.

Judging by the burning in my eyes, so am I.

“Hey, Annie.” I attempt a smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I . . . yeah.” She nods. Her lips are trembling. “I love your hair.

Purple might be my favorite.”

“Thank you.” A beat. “I tried orange last year. I looked like a traffic cone.”

Silence stretches, wistful. It reminds me of when we’d fill every second together with chatter. “Well, I need to . . .” I move for the door, but she stops me with a hand on my forearm.

“No—please. Please, Bee, can we just . . .” She smiles. “I missed you.”

I missed her, too. I miss her all the time, but I won’t tell her. Because I hate her. Me and my multitudes.

“I’ve been listening to that album you gave me a lot. Even though I’m still not sure I like it. And last year I went to Disneyland and there was this new Star Wars park and I thought of you. And I haven’t been able to make friends in

Schreiber’s lab because they’re all dudes. Total WurstFest™. Except for two girls, but they’re best friends already, and I don’t think they like me much, and . . .” She’s crying harder now, but also laughing in that selfdeprecating way that is so Annie. “So, you and Levi, huh?

He’s even hotter than back at Pitt.”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that.”

“You probably made all his dreams come true. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. Not that I’d seen him

happy, like ever, before today.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Actually, Levi hated me,” I say stubbornly.

“I doubt it. Not by any definition of that term. He just really—” She shakes her head firmly. “This isn’t what I came to talk about, I don’t know why I’m going on about stuff that . . .” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

I could pretend not to know what she’s apologizing for. I could pretend that I didn’t think about her every day for the last two years. I could pretend that I don’t miss the way we’d make each other laugh until our abs ached, but it would be exhausting, and even though it’s eleven fifteen in the morning, I am already so very tired.

“Why?” I ask. A question I rarely allow myself when it comes to Annie.

“Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes close. “I don’t know, Bee. I’ve been trying to figure it out for years. I just . . . don’t know.”

I nod, because I believe her. I never doubted Annie’s love for me.

“Maybe I was jealous?”

“Jealous?”

She shrugs. “You were beautiful. The best in the lab. With the glamorous globe-trotting past. You were always good at everything, always so . . . so happy and cool and

fun. You made it seem effortless.”

I was never any of those things. Not by a long shot. But I think of Levi—

impenetrable, cold, arrogant Levi, who turned out not to be impenetrable, cold, arrogant at all. Being so dramatically misunderstood doesn’t seem that unlikely.

“And you and Tim . . . You and I were always together, but in the end, you’d go home to Tim and I’d be alone, and