"—I'm just surprised that you guys are still seeing each other. That's all," you say, shrugging as you poke around the food on your plate. Every time you have a conversation like this, the guilt gnaws at your stomach. Like a starving animal picking at a bone, except your insides are being torn apart by your own deceit. But it's for Tashi's own good. She won't listen to you otherwise.

"... Okay." Her arms are folded, eyes narrowed as she watches you. You know by the slight set to her jaw that your blow hit the way you wanted.

"I'm sorry."

She leans back in her chair, inspecting you for a moment as you hold your cutlery up in the air. "Why did you ask me to come to lunch with you?"

"You're my friend." Another nonchalant shrug. "I told you. I had extra meal credits, and they were going to expire—"

"Don't be such a fucking wuss," she cuts in, leaning forward again. Her eyes are scanning her face for any hints of deception. Any flicker of the truth. It's unnerving. The same way she scrutinises her opponent on the court. You've been opposite that look enough times to not be frightened, but it still makes your throat tighten. "Did you hear something? From Art? Is he seeing other girls on tour?"

"No, I mean—"

"Is that what this is?"

You fumble a little awkwardly. "That's not what I'm trying to say."

"Then what are you trying to say?" Her tone is deceptively calm, but you can tell she's seconds away from walking away. And when you can't give her a straight answer, she does. Her chair screeches loudly as she rises to her feet, snatching her phone off the table and turning to head back to her dorm.

You're panicking a little now. You aren't sure when the conversation got away from you, but it wasn't supposed to end like this. So you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind:

"He's not in love with you."

And then she's swirling around to storm back over to you. Right up in your face, leering down at you about how she doesn't need someone to be in love with her, let alone a man. The comment is enough to make your stomach flutter, but you push that down. You've upset her, clearly. You can celebrate a minor win later.

Not when she's a retreating figure again.

"Don't you think you deserve it?" Oh, god. You're digging yourself a deeper hole here.

"Jesus fucking Christ, {{user}}—"

Your reply is too earnest. "I mean, who wouldn't be in love with you?"

She stares at you for a long moment. Her expression is utterly unreadable to you for once. You almost shrink back in your seat, and it's a miracle you manage to stay upright enough to meet her eyes. She shakes her head.

"I think you might be the worst friend in the world."

Oh, you've fucked this up royally.