Then he points down at the concrete.
“Oh, and that?” He nods at something near my boot. “Probably mine. Sophomore year. Great night.”
I follow his gaze—and yep. There it is. One very sad, very sun-bleached condom lying in the dirt like a cautionary tale.
“God, this place is cursed,” I mutter.
Troy drags a hand down his face. “Can you not tell that story right now?”
“I didn’t even start it!” Ethan grins, unfazed. “But since you’re already sweating?—”
“Nope.” Troy turns him by the shoulders and starts nudging him away. “You’re done.”
Ethan’s already strolling backward down the path, waving like he’s been asked to give a farewell speech. “Have fun with your weird little toilet project!”
Then, louder—just to make sure half the quad hears:
“Make good choices, Troy! And stop falling for girls who could definitely beat you in a fight!”
Troy mutters something under his breath.
I look at him, unimpressed. “Good friend of yours?”
He exhales. “Unfortunately.”
My gaze drops to the sad little condom again, then back up to him. “You sure that’s not yours? I hear you’ve got a bit of a... reputation.”
He smirks. “Nope. Wrong size.”
I tilt my head. “Too big, huh?”
His grin widens, smug and infuriating. “Let’s just say... that thing wouldn’t make it past the tip.”
I make the mistake of picturing what that even means.
“Okay,” I say quickly, turning on my heel. “And that’s my cue to never think again.”
Behind me, he laughs—low and delighted.
And I officially need a lobotomy.
12
TROY
I’ve been standing outside CC’s for way too fucking long.
It’s cold. I don’t mind the cold—I grew up in Colorado, I thrive in this shit—but I do mind waiting in the cold. For Delilah. Who was the one who insisted on being on time and not half-assing things. Who still isn’t here.
It’s been a couple days since our site visit and I’ve got ideas that I’m actually excited to share with her and see what she thinks.
I check my phone again. No messages. Then I hear it—the unmistakable rumble of a loud-ass car engine pulling up. I glance up just as a black Jeep parks on the curb. Delilah steps out of the passenger side, laughing at something. And then I see who’s driving.
Jared. Fucking. Jared.
And just like that, my good mood is gone. Well, my bad mood is now an even worse bad mood. Delilah doesn’t immediately see me.
She’s pushing her hair back, adjusting her bag, smiling as she says something through the window. Jared leans out ofthe driver’s seat, grinning back at her like he thinks he’s fucking charming. He’snot. The moment Delilah turns toward the café, her eyes land on me. I fold my arms over my chest. Jared notices me next. His grin fades slightly.
