I mop myself up and run a hand through the tangles in my hair. “Was there a question in that ‘so’?”
His mouth twitches. “Do you have plans today?”
“I’m going home for spring break, so my plans are a six-hour drive and an obsessive rumination on where it all went wrong.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“Spoken like someone who has never driven through Yuma.” I rub my heavy eyelids. Crying plus sleep deprivation is not the best way to pregame a road trip.
“Call me. I’ll keep you company on the drive,” West offers.
“You will?”
“What else do I have to do but spend my entire spring break distracting you?”
I hesitate, and he sees it.
“Unless you don’t want me to,” he adds.
The problem is that I do want to be distracted by him, a little too much. “When are you leaving?”
“I’m carpooling with Burger—”
“The guy with the—” I hold my index finger above my lips.
“The finger mustache tattoo? That’s him.”
“And the…” I mime tapping on cups.
“The annoying habit of playing the ‘Cups’ song on every available surface?Yes.”
“Oof. Good luck.”
“We’re leaving at two, but I’m free until then…” He trails off, the invitation hanging unsaid in the space between us, and every bad thought I had about this day vanishes into thin air. Somehow West has magicked me into a good mood.
I twist my lips so he can’t see how badly I want to smile. “I can be free until two.”
“Yeah?” He doesn’t bother to hidehissmile, and my stomach ties itself in the good kind of knots. Not the failed-your-midterm-and-ruined-everything kind that were demanding squatters’ rights just a few minutes ago.
Huh.
I nod, and West leans in for a kiss.
“I think we should just be friends!” I blurt out, my hand on his chest.
He backs off. “Sorry! I…it’s just…youdo?”
I do?I didn’t realize it until I said it, but the instant West kisses me, I’ll stop caring about anything else. It happened last night, and I know myself well enough to know it’ll happen again. I’ll hyper-fixate, and I’ll stop studying, stop worrying, stop thinking of anything but him. I might even stop writing. Icould easily spend the next nine days texting West from my bed in California, my feet up on the wall and my heart in my throat. Who needs ambition when you have a cute guy who kisses you like the world is ending?
“I do,” I whisper.
Something flares behind West’s eyes. “Of course. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s not you! It’s…” I wince, the cliché dying on my lips. “I need to focus on school.”
“Right,” he says flatly. “I’ll see you around, Mars.” He turns to leave, and I call him back.
“I thought we were going to hang out?”
