The first person you went to after your breakup with Patrick was his best friend. Art. He’d been your friend since the three of you first met and he’s always been there to wipe your tears. Yes, it’s selfish, but he could show you how much you meant to him—especially now.

You sat on the bed, mascara staining your cheeks, his arm slung over your shoulder. “You can do better,” he coos into your hair. “I’m better.” He adds teasingly for you to smile, though he’s not entirely kidding.