One more time

was sitting outside on the bleachers by myself at lunch—when Zac came over to me. He didn't say anything. He walked up the bleachers and sat down beside me, silently.

After a moment, he spoke quietly. "It's cold outside, you shouldn't sit here. You're going to get sick." He took off his coat and placed it over my shoulders.

I looked at him flatly. "I don't care if I get sick, Zac."

"I do." He just looked at me. Both his gaze and voice were gentle.

I ran a hand down my face sighed. "I'm—I'm sorry I lost it this morning."

Zac shook his head frantically, his eyebrows pulling together. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Bloom. I'm the one who—well, I apologize for Shane being a dumbass."

"He didn't know." I shrugged. "Not his fault. It's not anyones—I just don't like my birthday."

Zac turned to look out at the empty field. "I hate Christmas." I looked at him. "It just reminds me of how fucked up my family is—reminds me how much my family isn't even really a family." He chuckled dryly.