Then he peeks around my locker door, smirk tugging at his mouth. "Hey. You're not stressing about the letter, are you? You'll get it soon. Maybe tomorrow."
I force a laugh. "I'm not bothered. I swear."
"Good."
He shifts, moving to lean against the locker across from me so he can actually see my face. And because apparently I'm on a mission to ruin my own life, the words just tumble out.
"I've got my NYU acceptance, though," I say casually. Too casually.
Silence stretches between us, and my stomach knots.
I risk a glance, and yep—there it is. Zach's staring at me like I just told him I'm moving to Mars.
Shit!
"NYU?" His voice comes out sharp with disbelief. "Since when did you even apply there?"
I swallow. My hands suddenly feel clammy on the spine of my binder. "Uh... since I, you know... applied."Brilliant answer, Caroline. Gold star.
His brow furrows deeper, like that's not nearly enough. "I thought our plan was Ridgewater.Ridgewater U.Together." His voice isn't dramatic, but there's a rough edge to it—like he actually feels betrayed.
My throat tightens. He's never looked at me like this before.
"Yeah, that's the plan," I rush to say, nodding. "We're still doing Ridgewater."
"Then why did you apply to NYU?" His jaw flexes. "That's like... twenty hours away."
I slam my locker shut, juggling my AP books like a shield. "Oh, stop being a drama queen, Westbrook. There are planes, you know. Three hours, tops. You'll survive." I tack on a crooked grin, hoping it'll soften the mood.
It doesn't.
When I glance at him again, he still looks butthurt—eyebrows drawn, lips pressed, like someone just stole his puppy.
And I don't know if I should feel guilty... or completely giddy that he's this bothered by the thought of me being somewhere else.
I sigh, softer this time. "Look, I only applied because my mom wanted me to. Just to have options. That's all. I'm not planning on disrupting our plans." My voice gentles without me meaning to. "Don't worry, okay?"
He nods slowly, but I can tell he's still chewing on it. His eyes don't have their usual sparkle. He doesn't joke back. He just... looks at me.
And this is the first time I've ever seen him like this. Guard down. Unsettled. Actually worried aboutmenot being there.
And what does my dumb heart do?
Oh, it cannonballs straight into Delulu Lake. Because in my head, the translation is crystal clear: Zach Westbrook can't imagine college without me. Which, duh, means he can't imagine life without me. Which, duh, means he loves me.
I think he's about to say something—something big, maybe—but then it happens. The familiar stomp-stomp-clap of ego-filled footsteps echoes behind us.
Here they come.
Zach's friends. Varsity hockey guys in their navy-and-gold letterman jackets, strutting like they own the hallway. Too loud, too cocky, too everything. Their dumb little clap-handshake-shoulder-bump routine plays out like some weird cult greeting, and of course Zach falls right into it the second they reach us.
"Z! You coming or what?" Tyler shouts, smirking like he invented smugness.
Zach returns the handshake, laughing that easy laugh he always saves for them. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec."
"Hi, Caroline," a voice pipes up. I turn and it's Jacob, flashing me his adorable smile.
I smile back automatically. "Hi, Jake."
