Page 92 of The Serpent King

“Thanks, that’s—”

“Hush. I’m not giving you compliments; I’m stating facts. And I wasn’t finished. This ‘certain type of girl’ is often nuts. What I’m telling you is you’ll have lots of opportunities to hook up with nutty girls in college, but you’ll regret it.”

Dill smirked. “Maybe I could have a special huge flyswatter made for me for swatting all the crazy girls away.”

Lydia grabbed his arm. “Dill, I’m serious.”

“Okay.” Lydia was usually emphatic in getting her way, but Dill had rarely seen her this emphatic. Or territorial.

“I hate the thought of you hooking up with anyone, nutty or otherwise.” Lydia maintained her grip on Dill’s arm and gave the stink eye to a guy who glanced over as he walked past.

Dill looked her in the eyes. “You can call yourself whatever you want. But I call myself your boyfriend. And as such, I don’t intend to be hooking up with anyone. Nutty or otherwise. Okay?”

“Okay. Just FYI, I don’t intend to hook up with any dumb, gross boys either.”

“That makes me very happy.”

“Or even nondumb, nongross boys.”

“Good.”

Lydia seemed immersed in thought for the rest of the walk to the student union. For as far as they could see, there were huge 1950s-era buildings surrounded by tall trees. The aroma of warm cut grass, woodchips, and grilling hamburgers hung in the air.

And then, out of nowhere, as if it were the most normal thing imaginable, Lydia reached out and took Dill’s hand. And there they were, walking down the sidewalk, holding hands. In public.

“This is a blatant violation of the rules,” Dill said.

Lydia was unruffled. “Yes, but so is Marissa hitting on you in front of your girlfriend, so I’m declaring a moratorium on the rules. MTSU is a lawless, anarchic no-man’s-land.”

Dill intertwined his fingers with hers. “If that’s true, then there’s no rule against me just kissing you right here, in front of everyone.”

“I guess not.”

“You said anything goes.”

“I did.”

“All right then.”

“All right.”

“I’m doing it.” Dill abruptly stopped, pulling Lydia backward.

“Why are we still talking?”

“Okay.” He drew her close, put his hand on her cheek, and kissed her. Long and slow. Like they were completely alone instead of in the middle of the sidewalk while students streamed around them, hurrying to class.

“Dearly’s first performance at MTSU gets excellent reviews,” Lydia murmured, with her eyes still closed.

“Oh yeah?” Dill’s lips barely brushed hers.

“Yeah. Maybe we should repeat it for Marissa and her friends.”

“I’m down. Let’s go find her.”

Lydia broke away and grabbed Dill’s hand again, pulling him toward the student union, almost yanking him off-balance. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving. Come on, rock star.”

They got sandwiches in the cavernous food court. Dill set down the bag with his new MTSU hoodie, surveyed the room, and felt something blooming inside him. Nobody could replace Travis. Nobody could replace Lydia. But at least he wasn’t facing the crushing aloneness anymore. Now his life had the sun and the soil to keep growing. He imagined long talks with Lydia in which they both discussed classes and new friends. That’d be a lot better than listening to Lydia go on about classes and new friends while he talked about what a great night they’d had at Floyd’s. Without warning, a mixture of joy and melancholy and hope and nostalgia overwhelmed him. He fought back tears.