“Oh, hey,” August says. “I remember you. You’re the cute geek from my course.” He looks down at our hands, which is when I remember I’m still holding Em’s.
I let go and take a step back.
Em’s face is bright red. “Uh, yeah. And you’re August.”
August pinches his brow and then widens his eyes as though he’s having a light bulb moment. “Professor Richards said my name. And there I was, thinking you were stalking me.”
Em’s face goes even redder. It’s quite a violent shade now. “I’m not—” He stares at the ground.
“Pro tip, though, only my parents and stuffy professors call me August. My friends all call me Auggie.” He winks at Em.
If my friend’s face goes any redder, he’ll burst into flames.
“You had something to give me?” Auggie prompts.
“Oh. Yes. No. Never mind.” He steps back, but I put my hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He glares at me and then pulls his rucksack around to his chest and takes out a few folded sheets of paper. “I made you some notes to help with the essay for Professor Richards’s class.” He keeps his face low as he holds it out.
“You—? Wow. Thank you.” Auggie takes the notes, unfolds them, and looks at them. His brow furrows more and more. “This is great.”
“I told you he wouldn’t want them,” Em whispers.
“Oh, I do. I’m grateful. But I don’t understand them.”
“Oh.”
I check my watch. “I’ve got to go.”
Em turns to me, eyes wide. “Shit, have I made you late?”
“Not yet, but I will be if I don’t hustle.”
“I’ll come.”
“You two have more to talk about.”
Em blinks. “We do?”
“You might want to explain your notes.”
“Oh. Right.” He gulps and turns back to Auggie. “Do you want me to?”
“I would love you to.” He nods to me.
I walk away and glance back at them. They’re standing closer. Em is pointing at something in the notes he made, and Auggie is nodding and smiling. My stomach is unsettled like I’ve eaten too much right before swimming. Except I’m not in a pool. I’m on my way to a lecture while my best friend gets flustered over a good-looking guy.
4
AUGGIE
“Cute boyfriend,” I say. “You’re a matching set of cuteness.”
Emory stares at me. He’s got that deer-caught-in-headlights expression again, all wide-eyed and panicking. His eyes are beautiful. I could stare at them for a long time—over a drink, during sex. Except he’s got a boyfriend, whose name I didn’t catch. Not that I asked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
I gesture in the direction the other guy went. “Your boyfriend. You look good together.”
Emory blinks. “You mean Casey?”
