“Anytime. Now come on—we need to find you a costume that’ll make Miles realize exactly what he missed out on.”
“I thought you said I didn’t need a costume for that.”
“You don’t. But watching him realize it while you’re looking like a goddess? That’s just bonus points.”
As he helps me gather supplies, I try to sort through the tangled mess of feelings in my chest. The way Ethan jumped to defend me. The way he sees creativity where Miles saw deficiency. The way he makes me feel like I’m enough, exactly as I am.
This was supposed to be simple. Fake dating to save face.
But this is no longer simple.
Especially not the warm feeling in my chest when Ethan says, “We’re going to destroy them,” like my battles are automatically his too.
16
ETHAN
Friday afternoon, Piper and I are sprawled on the quad, supposedly studying but actually strategizing about tomorrow's party. She's lying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air while she scrolls through costume ideas on her phone, and I'm trying not to stare at the way the sunlight catches in her hair.
“What about tin foil?” she asks. “Very reflective. Very spacecraft.”
“Very likely to tear the second someone hugs you,” I point out. “And there will be hugging. Drunk people love hugging.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Good point. What about?—”
“Pipes?”
The male voice makes her whole body go rigid. I look up to see a guy in an expensive suit walking toward us, phone in one hand, irritation clear on his face. He's wearing—I shit you not—a cap that says “Goldman Sachs Intern 2022”.
“Jackson?” Piper scrambles to sitting, grass stains on her knees, looking suddenly young. “What are you doing here?”
“Brad's playing in the game tomorrow. Came up to watch.” He doesn't sit, just stands there looking down at us like we'recontaminating his shoes. “Mom said you were probably in the library.”
“I... I didn't know you were coming to campus.”
“Why would you?” He finally notices me. “Who's this?”
“Ethan.” I stand, extending my hand. He shakes it with that too-firm grip guys use when they're trying to establish dominance. “You must be Piper's brother.”
“Guilty.” His smile is all teeth, no warmth. “You two studying?” The way he says it suggests he finds the idea of his sister having a study partner hilarious.
“Actually, we're planning for a party tomorrow,” Piper says, and immediately looks like she regrets it.
Jackson laughs. “You? At a party? What, is it hosted by the computer science department? Pin the tail on the algorithm?”
“It's a house party,” I say, edge creeping into my voice. “My house, actually.”
His eyebrows rise, reassessing me. “You're throwing a party? What are you, like a frat guy or something?”
“No frat. Just friends.”
“Right.” He looks me up and down again. “You play football? You've got that whole”—he gestures vaguely at my shoulders—“athlete thing going on.”
“Used to.” I keep my voice neutral, but Piper's hand brushes quickly against mine in silent support.
“Used to?” Jackson perks up like a shark smelling blood. “What happened, couldn't cut it at college level? I get it, man. High school star to college benchwarmer—tale as old as time.”
“Injury,” I say flatly.
