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"Who is everyone?"

"Joey Dylan" She pops the tab on her lid but doesn’t take a sip "They’ve been bugging s Label it Us I don’t feel like I should have to It’s nobody’s business what I’"

Our eyes meet My hand curls into a fist on the table

What she’s not feeling?

"That’s complete bullshit," I want to say, but I don’t I didn’t coax her to sit with ued for her too I don’t buy her denial

She’s freaked out because she knohat this is Not because she doesn’t

Brooke looks away again, tapping her fingers on the cup

I force ht, then don’t Don’t explain it," I suggest, catching her cautious attention "Why do we have to be labeled anything? Why can’t we just continue doing e’re doing, ‘cause I thought it was pretty fucking great"

"But everyone"

"Who cares about everyone?" I ask,you to telltohell Not that I don’t love hearing she did that Why couldn’t I have been present for that little offhand cos ofthem"

"I know that!" She startles at her own voice, her eyes round and regretful as she looks around us, at the attention we’ve possibly drawn, but I wouldn’t know for certain if that’s the case

I can only look at Brooke The anxiousness radiating off her in thick waves I can practically feel it on lossy table-top, and begins rubbing at her temple "I know that God, do you think I don’t?" she asksacross the small table at e this is forthisto shit, that’s all that ive her a hard look "What? No, of course not"

"Yeah, okay," she reaze