Gabe looked up from her typing and smiled. For once, she didn’t feel the need to prevaricate, though she knew Cheryl would draw unfortunate conclusions. “I feel better. Don’t know that I can explain it, though.” Her friend pulled the chair over closer to the desk and sat directly opposite, blue eyes concerned despite the greeting. “Isn’t it about time you tell me what’s really going on? Is it about the fuck buddy?” Clearing her throat, Gabe winced. “I really, really don’t like that term.” “Yeah, but it’s the only term that applies.” Blue eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, it doesn’t apply anymore.” “I don’t really want to talk about it—” “But you need to.” “Cher—” “No. Not this time.” Cheryl sat forward, leaning her arms on the edge of the desk. “I’ve never seen you like you were. It scared me. I couldn’t tell if you really were sick or if you’d just found out that some family member had died. It’s been over a week and you do look better, but I’m worried about you.
