"So, what are the two of you doing tonight?" I ask.

"A friend of ours is in a band, and they are playing a show at The Crocodile."

"That's a huge gig," I say excitedly.

Roxy and I start talking about her friend's band, and before I know it, she's grabbing her things and getting ready to leave. A part of me is starting to feel jittery, and it isn't the caffeine. The thought creeps into my mind: What if he comes in tonight? I have never seen him here in the past, and to my knowledge, he has never been here, but it still makes me nervous.

"You okay, hun?" Roxy asks as she stares at my hands that are tightly clenched together.

Immediately, I loosen my grip as I feign a smile and say, "Yeah, fine. Must be the two shots of espresso, that's all." Truth is, I'm not okay, but I need to be. I need to function and be able to go about my daily routines without freaking out. The only way I know to get to that point is to keep forcing myself.

"Okay," she responds in a weary tone. I assure her I'm fine and tell her to not worry about me and have fun. Before walking out the door, she turns around and says, "Call me if you need anything, or...just call me, okay?"

Waving at her in mock exasperation, I say, "Just go."

It's a little after ten o'clock and the rain is now pouring down outside. The evening has been pretty slow as predicted. Only a handful of people are sitting around drinking coffee, visiting with friends, or studying. I have been able to get a decent amount of reading done and am now finishing up some research for a paper I need to write by next week.

My heart skips a beat, as it does every time the bell above the door rings. I look up to see a guy with dark, wet hair walking in. I hop off my stool and walk over to the register to meet him.

"Hey, what can I get for you?" I ask.

Looking at the drink list on the wall behind me, he says, "Uh, just a twenty coffee. Black."

Roxy didn't feel like she needed to give her drink sizes any special names like other coffee establishments, so it's simply a twelve, sixteen, or twenty.

"Easy enough," I say, and before he can look up at me, I am over pouring him his cup of coffee. When I return, he is typing something into his phone. "That's one ninety-three," I say as I slide the drink towards him.

Looking up at me, he hands me a five, and I open the register to get him his change. I feel him staring at me, and when I shift my eyes up, sure enough, he's staring at me with a confused look on his face.

"Everything okay?" I ask as I hand him his change. He doesn't take his eyes off of me, and I'm starting to freak out inside. I can feel the rate of my heart as it increases, and I nervously ask, "Anything else?"

He finally blinks and shakes his head as he says, "Um, no. No, that's all," never taking his eyes off of me.

Who the hell is this guy? I take a few steps back and accidentally kick the barstool I was sitting on, and it makes a loud scratching noise against the floor. He turns around and starts walking out but looks back over his shoulder at me a couple times before finally leaving.

Panic shoots through me, and my breathing becomes erratic. Does that guy know me? Does he know Jack? My paranoid thoughts start to overtake me, and I quickly announce to the few people who are still here that we are closing immediately. My voice is trembling, and it doesn't take long for the place to empty out. As soon as the last person leaves, I lock the doors and turn off the outside lights. I walk back behind the counter, scared, not able to slow down my pounding heart. Sitting down and pulling my knees to my chest, I once again feel defeated and hopeless as the tears start to fall.

As soon as I get home, I take a sleeping pill, strip off my clothes, and lie down in bed. I hate that I have become so weak and can't get my shit together. It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be feeling this miserable every day. It's been two months, and I know I am stronger than this pathetic girl that lives inside of me and is consuming me.

It's sometime in the middle of the night when I wake up to Kimber loudly stumbling through the house. She's giggling, and I hear a guy's voice before her door slams shut. Great. I am just about to fall back asleep when her moans echo though the walls. My stomach knots up when the guy starts grunting out her name.

I can't take this. I am a mix of emotions: pissed, disgusted, jealous, and scared. Throwing the covers off of me, I grab my coat and slide on my Uggs. I need to get out of this house and away from what's going on in Kimber's room. So, I grab my keys and leave.

Quietly, I slide my key into the lock and open the door. Shutting it softly behind me, I walk through the living room while stepping out of my boots and tossing my coat on the couch. When I open the door to Jase's room, I see he is alone. Thank God. I pull back the covers and slide in behind him. It isn't long before he rolls over and wraps me in his arms. It is then when my stomach finally unknots, and I fall asleep.

"So what happened last night?" Jase asks when I walk into the kitchen.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I walk into the living room, which is adjacent to the open kitchen, and curl up in a blanket as I sit on the couch. Jase walks in and sits next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Kimber brought some guy home last night, and the pervert wouldn't stop shouting her name," I say.

Chuckling, Jase asks, "Who was it?"

"I have no clue. I was asleep until they came stumbling in and woke me up." I take a sip of my coffee before adding, "It was gross!"

Jase cocks his head to the side and says, "It's not gross, Candace."

"It's gross," I insist before taking another sip of my coffee.

Jase just laughs at me, but I can't help it. Hearing those two last night was disgusting.

"Anyway, new subject. How was last night?" I ask. Ever since Mark's band played at Blur, they have become somewhat of regulars and played another gig there last night.

"It was fun. You really should've come with us."

"I told you, I had to work," I say.

"Nooo, you volunteered to work," he responds and gives me a smirk.

I have been avoiding going out with Jase and Mark. The thought of going anywhere aside from my normal spots, where I feel a little safer about not running into him, scares me. So I stick to school, work, and home.

"You live in a bubble, Candace," he says and then grabs the corner of the blanket that I am under and pulls it over his lap as he scoots up next to me. "You need to get out."

"I am out."

"You're not. I always know where to find you because you have the same routine every week. It never changes." He drapes his arm around me and pulls me closer. "I'm worried about you."

Sighing, I respond, "You don't need to be. I'm fine."

"Don't pull that act with me. I know you're not fine. It's been two months, and you are no more fine than you were back in August." Kissing the top of my head, he continues, "I worry because I only know what you tell me. But I wonder how much this really consumes you that you hold in and don't tell me about. You won't do anything to help yourself."