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“Every time I go over at Logan’s and he’s there. We talk sometimes.”

“And you’re just telling me this now!” My irritation is rapidly approaching bitch levels.

“I thought you weren’t interested.” She smirks at me. She’s got me.

“River, you know you can tell me anything, right? We haven’t really talked in months. You used to tell me all about your dates. If Liam is anything like Logan, he’ll be a solid ten.”

Yeah, I used to talk to Skye about everything. I have certainly overshared, even when she did not want to hear it. But I can’t anymore. I just can’t. To say it out loud. To actually say the words—it will make everything real and I can’t. I can’t make it real. I want to forget it. I want to forget it ever happened and then the irony of it hits me so hard, I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. I want to forget something I can’t remember. I cried enough, so I choose to laugh.

“Well, you haven’t shared much either, Skye. Why don’t you tell me about Logan?”

She blushes and I successfully deflect the conversation to her.