“I think it’s starting again.” “It’s probably just the pressure of everything,” Jared offers. “Finals, your massively unrequited love for Henna–” “Don’t say unrequited.” “. . . your massively invisible love for Henna . . .” I hit him on the arm. It’s friendly. More silence. “What if I go crazy?” I finally whisper. I feel Jared shrug. “At least it’ll piss off the Senator.” We laugh. A little. “You won’t, Mikey,” he says. “And if you do, I’ll be there to pull you back.” Which makes me feel . . .
