The elevator dings, breaking the moment.
We step inside, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss. He doesn't look up, just keeps staring at the floor like it might swallow him whole.
I let out a dry little laugh, shaking my head, trying to lighten the air between us. "Don't be. If anything, you should take the credit. What happened back then? It was the kick I needed to actually do something about it. I hated hearing it, but I needed it."
For a second, something flickers across his face — the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile, but it doesn't quitemake it there. His shoulders are still tense, like even hearing me say this hurts him more than it helps.
And maybe that's okay.
Because as much as I don't want him to hurt... a part of me needs him to sit in this with me. Just for a little longer.
I really thought once we reached the lecture hall, he'd just leave me in peace.
But nope.
He's still here. Right behind me, matching my pace, hands shoved in his pockets like he had nowhere else in the world to be.
I shoot him a look over my shoulder. "Don't you have a class?"
"I do, at one o'clock." His grin is infuriatingly smug, like he's enjoying this way too much.
"Well, you should leave. My class starts in five minutes, and you can't be here."
"Oh yes, I can. I can sit through the lecture until it's over."
I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. "What? Why?"
"Because I haven't seen you in over a week." He pouts — the jerk actually pouted!
"You keep saying no whenever I ask you out, which means you leave me no choice but to resort to desperate measures. So here I am.Desperate." His mouth tips into a slow, lopsided curve, silver eyes glinting with amusement as he winks.
I let out a disbelieving scoff, throwing my hands up. "You're insane. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Nope. There's nothing better than spending a day with you, sugarplum."
The way he says it — so smooth, so utterly sure of himself — makes my stomach flip, which only annoys me more. I roll my eyes so hard it's a miracle I don't sprain something and turn toward the lecture hall door.
"Care! Up here!"
Lucy's voice snaps me out of my annoyance. I glance toward the front of the hall — and freeze when I realize every single pair of eyes is trained on me.
No. Onus.
And of course, they're not really looking at me.
Every girl in the room is locked on Zach — Ridgewater's star forward — like he just walked straight out of a hockey calendar. I keep walking, spine stiff, pretending I don't notice the ridiculous fanfare — or Zach's presence at my back.
Girls wave at him as we pass, tossing out little "Hi, Zach!" greetings like it's the most normal thing in the world.
And of course, he waves back, smiling that easy, casual smile that makes half the class sigh.
It's ridiculous. The way their eyes light up, it's like there are cartoon hearts popping out of them.
It's not fair how good he looks either, all tall and broad-shouldered and stupidly gorgeous before ten in the morning.
God, I almost wish he'd trip or get coffee on that annoyingly perfect hoodie, just to wipe that satisfied grin off his face.
Something sharp curls in my gut, quick and mean.
