I walk into Plate and Pastry the next day, looking around for Eli. Finally, I spot him sitting at a table and I rush over to him.

“So, what is it?” I ask immediately. "What did you have to talk to me about?"

“Why don’t we order first,” Eli suggests, and before I can say a word he’s walked up to the barista and ordered my favorite Caramel Mocha frappe and a slice of the best Bundt cake in the world.

God, he knows me so well.

“Thanks,” I smile as he sets down my food and drink in front of me. “But Eli, tell me. What is it?”

“Sheesh, you sure are persistent,” Eli replies. “And annoying.”

“I am not annoying!” I exclaim indignantly. “I just want to see what you want to tell me! Is that so wrong?”

“Technically, you can’t see something that I’m telling you,” Eli says, but I roll my eyes.

“Those are just mere technicalities,” I scoff. “You know what? I’m just going to eat my cake and coffee in peace. I don’t care what you have to say.".

“Fine, fine.” Eli sighs. “I got invited to MC on a show in South Korea.”

An uncomfortable feeling tugs at my stomach. “So… so what?”

“I’m moving back.” Eli says abruptly.

It feels like there’s something inside of my chest, clawing at my heart, tearing at my stomach.

No.

No way.

He’s not moving back. He can’t be moving back.

Eli just got back a few years ago and now he’s going to leave again?

And I’ve been trying for 5 FREAKING YEARS to get his attention, and now he’s probably going to end up going to Seoul and meeting this little petite girl that he’ll eventually date and marry and-

“I- I have to go,” I stutter, quickly getting up from my seat. I sprint out of Plate and Pastry, away from Eli, away from his stupid calmness. Why isn’t he freaking out like I am?

Oh, yeah. Because he doesn’t really give a crap about me.

Suddenly I collide into someone. “I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly, ducking my head.

“Chelsea?”

I look up. It’s Jason.

“Oh, hey,” I smile, hurriedly wiping away my tears. “How’ve you been?”

"Are you okay?” he asks concernedly. I nod slowly.

 “I’m peachy,” I reply.

"Peachy, eh?” Jason laughs. “I prefer apples, but whatever.”

I snort. “That was sad,” I tell him.

“What? I thought that was pretty good,” he says, shrugging. “Now, why don’t you just come with me and tell me all about why you’re crying. Okay?”