she neither resisted him nor gave him encouragement. "You know, Faith, I think I could like you. . . a lot. . . but you haven't really given me a chance."
"Can't you like me as a friend?" she asked. "Do you always have to be thinking of other things?"
He withdrew his hand, and turned to open more beer.
"There are many kinds of love, Don," she went on.
He handed her another beer. "What kind were you thinking of that night?" he asked.
"There is love in friendships," she said, ignoring the question. "Platonic love. Have you ever heard of that, Don?"
"Is that what you meant that night?" he asked.
"No . . . I don't think so. But that's what I mean now. I love you as a close friend, but nothing more."
"Oh," he said. He lit another cigarette and handed it to her.
"I made a mistake, Don. I thought it was something that it wasn't. I'm terribly sorry."
He leaned over, suddenly, and kissed her. She didn't respond, and he moved away, silent and hurt.
"Don," she said, "I'm sorry, but . . ."
"Why?" he asked, drinking his beer again as though he didn't care.
She didn't answer right away, and she could hear him breathing in the silence of the car. If he were younger, she had the idea that he might cry.
"There's someone else," she said softly, so that he had to turn to face her to hear. "There's someone else that I love very much."
"He's a lucky person," Don said, sighing and then finishing his beer.
She smiled in the darkness, but didn't answer.
He opened more beer, and they drank in silence.
"I guess I had better take you back to the dorm," he said, throwing the empty bottles into the grass, and starting the car. She didn't reply.
He parked the car in front of the dorm, and they sat for a minute. He was hurt, and she wanted to reach out to him, to say something that would make him feel better-but she didn't.
"I guess there's nothing more to be said," he said.
"I was hoping that we could still be friends," she said, "but if we can't, then it's my fault..
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She turned to look at him; and he leaned over and kissed her, softly, without passion. He waited for her to kiss him in return; and when she didn't, he moved away, got out of the car, and walked around to her side of the car.
Faith walked slowly up the stairs to her room. She felt nothing; she realized what she had done, but it did not hurt her.
She unlocked the door of her room, turned on the light and went to the desk. She turned on the desk light, then hung up her coat and sat down to read.
She had been reading only a few minutes when the knock on the door came. She said "come in" and the door opened.
The girl stood in the doorway. "Did you go with him?" she asked.
"Yes." Faith said.
"Did he ask you?"
"Yes."
"What did you tell him?”
"That I love someone else . . . very much."
The girl entered the room, and locked the door behind her.
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