“Probably a possum or something,” he says, already turning away. “Woods are full of ’em.”
I nod, but the weird feeling lingers. Because whatever was out there with us… I don’t think it was just a possum.
After a quick stop at the Coffee Hut for our pastry and caffeine fix, we arrive at school.
Even though I’ve driven by LHU my entire life, it’s different seeing it today—as an actual student. The campus is truly stunning, even I have to admit that.
From the cathedral-like buildings with their towering arches and intricate stone carvings, to the pristine lawns and palm fronds swaying lazily in the breeze, it all feels like something out of a movie set. Sunlight glints off the fountain in the main quad, and even the air smells expensive, like fresh-cut grass and money. Sure, it’s not NYU, but I guess it’s not the worst place to be stuck for a year.
We turn into the student parking lot, and Hayes glides into one of the reserved spots up front. Because apparently, being quarterback comes with valet-level parking privileges.
Please don’t let this year suck.
I whisper the silent prayer as I step out of the car, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and trying to shake off the nerves coiling in my stomach. Hayes comes around to my side and casually hooks his elbow through mine, like it’s the most natural thing in theworld. His fingers settle into the crook of my arm, warm and steady. Anchoring me, like always.
“You okay?”
I take a slow breath, eyes fixed on the looming campus ahead. My throat tightens as a wave of overwhelm sweeps through me.
New faces. New classes. New professors. New everything.
“Not really.”
“Just stick with me, kid. I promise, we’ll make this our best year yet.” He pulls me in, and his familiar scent—a delicious mix of cedar, dark amber, and fire-lit spice—envelops me, softening the sharp edge of my nerves.
“It’s just… I’m still bummed about the play,” I admit, my voice shakier than I’d like. “It felt like a fresh start, you know? Like maybe if I got the part, people might actually like me for once.” I try to smile. “That’s pathetic, huh?”
“People do like you, Al,” he says softly.
“People likeyou. They merely tolerate me because I’m your friend.”
“That’s not true.”
I snort. “Oh, come on. It is, and you know it.”
“You’re just… different, is all. That scares some people.”
He lets go of my arm and steps back, giving me a look—half thoughtful, half amused—as his gaze slowly travels down my all-black, unapologetically goth outfit.
I know I look good.
I’m tall and toned, with just enough softness in the right places. I’ve got big boobs and a great ass, thanks to all those workout classes. But my outfit isn’t the right style. Not like all the other fangirls giggling and waving at Hayes as they pass by, decked out in their pastel-ruffled skirts and designer shoes and bags.
“Okay, yeah, maybe you could blend in more if you tried,” he says, fingers steepled against his lips as he continues to study me. “But then you’d be another plastic doll like everyone else around here. And that’d be a damn shame, because I think you’re already perfect just the way you are.”
I roll my eyes. “All right, cheeseball. No more Disney Channel for you.”
“I’m serious, Al. I mean it.”
“Oh please. You have to say that,” I mutter. “You’re my best friend.”
His gaze lingers on me a beat too long.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Something flickers behind his eyes—something I can’t name, but it makes my heart flutter in that stupid, dangerous way it shouldn’t around him. Suddenly, I’m hyper-aware ofeverything. How close we’re standing. The way his shoulder brushes mine. The heat radiating from his skin.
The hairs on my arms rise into little goosebumps. I shiver, blaming the ocean breeze. The chill of the wind. The lack of a proper sweater or jacket. Anything but the way he’s looking at me.
