"Is this mandatory too?" Rex asks.
Drew's smile tightens slightly. "I wouldn't want to force anyone to have fun, Rex. But yes, I'd like everyone to make an effort to attend."
My eyes find Caleb across the room. He's leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, looking as thrilled about the hayride as I feel. According to our plan, this is exactly the kind of event where we should ramp up our public displays of ‘connection’.
"The hayride starts at seven," Emily continues. "Meet at the quad. Don't be late or we'll leave without you!"
As the group goes back to their studies, Caleb makes his way over to my table, sliding into the chair Gavin vacated.
"Hayride?" he says quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Apparently." Closing my textbook, I accept that I won't get any more studying done right now. "At least it's progress toward our goal."
"How so?"
"Drew organizing a co-ed event means he's less focused on fraternal bonding. The plan is working."
Caleb takes a sip of his coffee, his expression thoughtful. "I guess. But now we have to go on a hayride."
"Could be worse." My shoulders go tight, back stiffening. "Could be trust falls or something."
Because nothing says "brotherhood" like forcing the foster kid to fall backward and hope someone gives enough of a shit to catch him. Been there, done that, have the emotional scars. At least hayrides only require sitting next to people, not literally putting your physical safety in their hands and praying they don't let go.
A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Fair point. Though I wouldn't trust half these guys to catch a cold, let alone my body weight."
"You aren't exactly massive." The thought barely forms before it's out of my mouth. "I'm pretty sure even Emily could catch you."
His eyes narrow. "Are you calling me small, Hunter?"
"Compact." His reaction is entirely too satisfying. "Efficient. Travel-sized."
"I'm five-eleven, that's average height."
"Sure, if we're measuring in hobbit units."
He looks like he can't decide if he's pissed off or thinks it's funny. His eyes narrow, lips pressing together like he's fighting it—then the bastard actually smiles. "Five-eleven is perfectly respectable. We can't all be gangly giants like you."
"Six-two is not giant territory," I argue. "It's just tall enough that airplane seats are instruments of torture."
"Poor you," he says with mock sympathy. "The real struggle of barely fitting through doorways."
"Better than needing a stepladder to reach the top shelf.” I'm trying not to think about just how much I enjoy sparring with Caleb.
"I do not—" he begins, then stops himself when he sees Drew watching us with a pleased expression. In a smoother voice, he adds, "I guess I'll have to keep you around to reach the high things."
The casual implication of a future together sends an unexpected warmth through me. For a moment, I forget this is all a pretense.
"I guess you will," my voice comes out lower than I planned. It sounds almost like I'm trying to be sexy… with Caleb.
Something shifts in his eyes, a brief flicker of... something... before he masks it with his usual composure.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. "Tomorrow at seven. Hayride."
"I'll meet you in the hallway at 6:45. We should probably arrive together."
He nods, standing up. "Sounds good. I should get back to studying. Law precedents wait for no man."
"Good luck,"
