"A college girl, Caleb? Really?"
"Don't judge me and come get me, please."
I snag the gray hoodie from where it's been living on my reading chair for . . . weeks? Months? It's Caleb's, mixed in with the steady rotation of his stuff that somehow always ends up here. Phone chargers, basketball shorts, that one travel mug he's been "meaning to take home" since Christmas. I pull the hoodie on, the familiar scent wrapping around me like a second skin.
"Give me twenty minutes," I sigh, grabbing my keys. "Try not to get yourself murdered before I get there."
"You're the best," he breathes out. "I'll buy you those fancy fortune cookies you like."
"Add it to your tab." I'm already closing my front door, muscle memory guiding me to my beat-up blue Beetle in the dark. The same car he's helped jump-start three times this winter. "Wait." My key hovers by the ignition. "Where's your car?"
"At O'Malley's." Another rustle, followed by what sounds like a shower curtain. "I was too drunk to drive. Beingresponsible."
"Wow. Character development." My car protests being woken up this early, the engine grinding before it catches. "Though next time, try being responsiblebeforeending up in a stranger's bathroom?"
"I'm too hungover for sass." His whisper takes on a desperate edge. "Oh shit, I think she's up. I gotta go. Hurry."
The call drops, and I thunk my head against the steering wheel hard enough to make the protection charm hanging from my rearview mirror swing wildly. Dumbass. Complete and total dumbass. If I didn't love the idiot so much, I swear I'd leave him to deal with his own mess for once.
The streets of Hallow's End are glazed with that signature February frost, and I grip the steering wheel at exactly ten and two, grateful I stopped after two glasses of wine last night while Amelia polished off the bottle. The drive to Brookside isn't long, only twenty minutes on a good day, but at five a.m. in this weather, I'm taking it slow. A light dusting of snow starts falling as I pass the WELCOME TO BROOKSIDE sign, catching in the yellow glow of streetlights.
My reflection in the rearview mirror is about as tragic as you'd expect at this hour. Messy blue hair thrown up in whatever this bun is trying to be, yesterday's mascara smudged under my eyes, and Caleb's oversized sweatshirt drowning me in gray cotton. I lean forward, squinting through a patch of fog on the windshield, cursing under my breath as I navigate the frost covered roads toward the college campus. My car's heater is fighting a losing battle against the bitter cold, and I make a mental note to take it to Price & Sons Auto Repair so James can look at it.Again.
I spot Caleb the moment I pull up to the campus store. He's hunched on a bench, arms wrapped around himself, looking like every bad decision from last night caught up with him at once. His golden curls are dusted with snow, and even in the dim pre-dawn light, I can see he's shivering in—no way.
"Is that . . ." I lean across to open the passenger door, choking back a laugh. "Are you wearing a 'Here for the Right Reasons'Bachelorettehoodie?"
"She said I couldn't leave without something warm." He dives into my car, his broad frame somehow managing to fold all that former-football-player bulk into my tiny passenger seat. The hot pink fabric stretches across his chest in silent protest. "It was this or freeze to death. Pretty sure she was trying to get rid of it."
"It really brings out your eyes." I can't help but grin as he slumps lower.
"Just drive." He tugs the hood lower over his face, but not before I catch how his teeth are chattering. "Some friend you are, laughing at my suffering."
I crank the heat higher and dig through my center console, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it at his head. "Eat something before I slap you. You look like hell."
"You're an angel." He tears into the wrapper like he hasn't eaten in days. "A goddess. A—"
"If you're about to say 'fairy godmother,' I will actually leave you here."
He takes a huge bite, talking around it. "You wouldn't."
"Try me." I pull away from the curb, navigating through the snow-dusted streets. "What would you have done if I was busy? Maybe I had a date. It was Valentine's Day, after all."
"Did you?" The wrapper crinkles in his grip.
"Oh yeah, definitely." I grin. "Had to sneak out super quietly. Didn't want to wakehim up, you know?"
The protein bar wrapper tears completely. When I glance over, his knuckles are white against the pink fabric of the hoodie, face a shade paler than his hangover already made it.
"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be here." I keep my eyes on the road while he exhales softly. "Some of us spent the night doing bay leaf manifestations with Amelia."
"Right." He picks at the wrapper, not eating anymore. "I mean, if you hadn't answered, I would've called my mom."
"And explain theBachelormerch?"
"She'd probably be thrilled." He shifts in his seat, angling towards me. "At least it'd prove I'm trying to date." His eyes narrow slightly. "What exactly were you manifesting with those bay leaves? A better love life than mine?"
"None of your business." I say, very aware of how he's still watching me.
