“People won’t want to see me with him.”
“I’m working on it,” she assures me.
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath. “I appreciate you trying, especially on a Friday afternoon.”
“I’ll keep at it,” she assures me. “And you absolutely donothave to do this event if you don’t feel comfortable. Say the word and I can pull you out of any of your scheduled appearances.”
The door swings open, and West ducks outside, pushing his curls off his forehead. I wonder what it would feel like to run my hand across the stubble on his jaw, which is an insane thought I should not have. The scent of orange blossoms is screwing with my brain.
He hesitates under the brick archway, and for an agonizing moment, I think he’s going to stay. I imagine he’ll lean against the bricks and cross his legs at the ankles, arms folded over his broad chest as he pins me with a heavy stare. He catches me watching him, and as we blink at each other in silence, I admit that I’ve never been able to predict his moves as well as I thought.
“Mars?” Amina’s voice carries through the phone. “Do you want to think about canceling and get back to me?”
“No,” I tell her quickly, the weight of West’s gaze hot on my face. I force myself to hold his eye contact even though it makes me feel like my skin is stretched too tight over my bones, paper-thin and ready to crack. “He’s the one who needs to drop out. I don’t wantanythingto do with him.”
His jaw clenches as his features turn to stone. Nothing about West is soft these days, and the way he looks at me is sharp enough to draw blood. He brushes past me and jogs down the stairs.
“Likewise, Darling.” His words carry over his shoulder, bruising me between the ribs.
6
13 Years Ago
Freshman Year, Second Semester
The next timeI hear from West, it’s a Sunday night and I’m drowning in a sea of math homework that might as well be in a foreign language. I’m not good at math, and I hate that about myself.A writer who sucks with numbers?How novel.If I could write booksandunderstand how to double the measurements in a recipe, I’d be unstoppable. The world needs more women in STEM, and as much as I wish I could contribute, I’m not going to be one of them. I’m going to be an Enneagram type 3 (wing 4) who likes library-scented candles, moody music, and books with dragons and magic and hot guys.
As if he’s been summoned by my thoughts, my phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number.
I’m getting kicked out of my room.
I push my textbook off my lap and tuck my legs under me with a smile. Amber sprayed perfume between her boobs anddry-shaved her legs before she left our room ten minutes ago, which means this could only be one person.
Don’t freeze to death.
It’s not exactly freeze-to-death cold outside, but the mid-thirtiesiscold for Tucson. My windows are dark and frosty, and the dorm heater is struggling to keep up.
Heading to the library now. Might not make it alive.
Sucks to be you. I’m buried under three layers of fuzzy blankets, in a roommate-less room.
Now you’re just being cruel.
Not that I mind, but how’d you get my number?
Amber. It was my condition for leaving tonight. This is Jupiter, right?
It’s been a week since the basketball game with West, and I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about him since. And every time I think ofhim, I think of his story about a lonely boy, which made me cry, and how I can’t help but wonder if that story showed me a part of West he otherwise keeps hidden. Ithink about how he voted for me to win, despite wanting the prize for himself. I feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder and his multicolored eyes trained on mine when he said,I was just trying to impress you. I had no idea he cared so much about my opinion, especially when he can write likethat. Funny and bittersweet. I was laughing all the way to the end, right up until the moment a tear landed on my keyboard.
Are you saying my roommate sold me out for sex?
She thinks we’re friends.
Is she right?
When my phone buzzes again, my reflexive grin is idiotic.
Meet me on the second floor of the main library and we can find out.
