If anyone had come by Fiona Silverman's room that night, all they would have seen was a young girl slumped on the bed, crying. She was a pretty girl; she shouldn't have reason to cry. She was of an average height, a little above average weight, but no one minded. She had long, wavy auburn hair, and you couldn't see her eyes in this position, but they were green.

She was crying because she didn't know what to do with herself now. She had no one to turn to. Her parents were almost never around, even when they were home. Her father traveled all over the world every other week and her mother was perpetually late for meeting after meeting. She had no siblings, and her best friend was visiting her family across the country.

She was crying because Thomas was gone. He had left her with only the air to comfort her. How had she missed this? Why didn't she see that coming? Now that she knew, it was so obvious. She wondered how in the world she had missed that.

Then, of course, she realized that it was because she didn't want to see it. She had guessed the first time she met him. He told her he wasn't; he didn't think he was. He was in big-time denial.

She knew the minute she saw him that he had bad news for her – news that made him extremely happy. He sidled up to her in a would-be casual way, giving her a friendly peck on the cheek – friendly. That was the first clue. After that, she knew exactly what was coming.

“Just say it, Thomas,” Fiona sighed, defeated. He feigned a look of innocence. “Say it,” she repeated. Thomas seemed to collapse in on himself, his face falling. He looked at her with serious eyes.

“Fiona,” he started, “you know this has been really great, for you and for me.” Fiona bit her lip and looked down, waiting for the final blow. Thomas paused, apparently searching for the right words.

“Just spit it out,” Fiona prodded irritatedly.

“I…” Thomas cleared his throat. “I met someone.”

“Oh,” Fiona started, but Thomas continued hurriedly.

“A boy.”