Tessa fumbles as she turns to look at me and nearly trips over the curb. It’s like she’s trying to outrun the moment, but I can make out the way her hands shake.
“I just need five minutes,” I say, softer this time. “That’s all.”
She exhales hard, breath curling white in the air. “You shouldn’t be here, Clay.”
“I know.” My voice feels like sandpaper. “But I am.”
Her head tilts toward the waiting car. “Summer’s here. I need to go.”
I glance past her at her roommate sitting in the driver’s seat. Summer’s watching, pretending not to.
“I’m trying to fix this, Tess,” I murmur, stepping closer. “Tell her to go home.”
She turns to me then, eyes wide. “You can’t just show up here and—”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Sug.” My tone drops low. “Just a chance to talk.”
Her laugh’s short and bitter. “Talk? Is that what we’re callin’ it now? Because the last time we tried, well, we didn’t exactly do much talking at all.”
My breath fogs out slowly as I force the words past the lump in my throat. “You’re right. I screwed that up. I’m not here for that now, though.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The street’s quiet except for the low rumble of the engine and honking somewhere in the distance.
“Please,” I say, my voice dropping. “Let me explain, let me make this right. Not out here, though, where anyone can see us. I have a place here now. It’s a few blocks over.”
Her chin lifts, defiant. “A place.”
“Yeah,” I say, holding her gaze. “Until the end of the season, until I know if I officially got the job. Give me twenty minutes, Tess. That’s all I’m asking for. If you want to go back to your dorm, I’ll give you a ride, but please give me a chance and hear me out.”
She glances toward Summer again, and I can see the internal battle written across her face. A part of her wants to walk, and the other can’t quite let go. I can hear Summer quietly mutter something to Tessa, but I can’t make it out.
Tessa hesitates, fingers tightening around her bag strap.
I take one step closer, just enough for her to feel the heat between us. “Send her home. Please.”
I don’t know if it’s my pleading tone or the look on my face, but for the first time all night, she doesn’t look down.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes flick back toward Summer, who’s watching us like she’s ready to intervene.
“I’m sorry,” Tessa calls, her breath fogging in the air. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Summer leans forward, voice carrying over the wind. “You sure?”
Tessa nods. “Yeah. Thank you for coming to get me. I’m sorry you had to wait for me out here—”
“I don’t mind, Tess. You know that.”
Summer slides her stare from Tessa over to me. Only now, with me, I can see the hint of warning in her gaze. It’s the one she gave me earlier at their dorm when she told me to fix it. To stop breaking her friend. To stop being the reason Tessa isn’t smiling anymore.
I hold her gaze long enough to let her see I remember. That I’m trying.
When she finally drives off, her taillights flash once before fading around the corner.
Tessa’s shoulders rise and fall, her breath steady but shallow. I can’t tell if it’s anger or something else tightening the air between us.
I take a slow step toward her and gesture toward the truck. “Come on. It’s cold out tonight.”
She hesitates for a second too long, then lets out a quiet sigh and moves past me. I follow her to the passenger side, opening the door. She climbs in without a word.
