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Icheck the timeon my phone, then tuck it in my backpack as I hurry down the sidewalk toward Laughner’s, the student cafeteria. Overhead, the sky rumbles, and I glance up warily, hoping the rain holds off until I’m inside. I’m already running late for my standing lunch date with the girls, and I hate to get there soaked to the bone.
After what happened at Pizzuto’s, they’re dying for details. Any longer and they’ll send out a search party.
Bowing my head, I pick up the pace when I see someone coming and dart to my right at the same time they do, and we crash into each other. Stumbling back, I right myself as the contents in her arms scatter to the sidewalk.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I say as I bend to retrieve her phone and a book strewn on the sidewalk.
“No worries.” She bends beside me, grabbing a paper takeout bag before she straightens and my jaw drops.
Teresa. The girl Jace had on his couch not long ago. The long chestnut hair, pouty lips, high cheekbones, and perfect body—I’d remember them anywhere.
I avert my gaze as I stretch an arm out, handing her the rest of her things and trying my best not to picture her shirtless and underneath the boy I left in my bed this morning. A flush rises to my cheeks, and I make a move to leave when her words stop me.
“You’re Jace’s girlfriend, right?”
I pause, my gaze flickering to hers and I expect her to laugh or smirk; something to tell me she’s joking. But she appears to be stone-cold sober and entirely serious. “Uh, no. Jace and I aren’t . . . I’m not . . . what makes you think that?”
I have no idea what Jace and I are to each other now, but we definitely weren’t anything to each other the day I walked in on them.
“Oh.” She straightens with a frown. “I’m sorry, I just assumed when he told me to leave, that he couldn’t—” She shakes her head and starts to brush past me. “Never mind.”
I frown, reaching out to stop her. “What do you mean he told you to leave?” From what I saw, he looked pretty comfortable to me.
A nervous laugh spills from her lips. “This is kind of awkward, but we were having a good time . . . and he stopped and said he couldn’t ‘do this.’” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “Then asked me to leave. The next thing I know, you walked in and, well . . .”
Butterflies riot in my stomach at this revelation. Jace stopped Teresa and asked her to leavebeforeI barged in.
She tilts her head, studying me. “I’m sorry. I just assumed with the way he looked at you, along with your reaction, that you were together. You weren’t?”
I shake my head, still processing what she just told me.
“Well, you know he likes you, right?”
I swallow as something tugs in my chest. That night feels like forever ago, and things have certainly evolved between us, but was he really thinking about me even back then?
It seems impossible. Romantic, even if it shouldn’t be. But deep down, it feels right.
I glance up at her, my insides growing warm and fuzzy, as if I’ve downed a shot of whiskey.
“Anyway . . .” She trails off, and I realize I’ve been standing here, staring like a mute. “I guess there’s no need for apologies. See you around?”
I nod, offering her a polite smile and a wave as she turns to leave with me staring after her in the rumbling thunder.
I burst inside the brightly lit cafeteria and bypass the lines and stations for food, scanning the tables for Charlotte and Samantha. I find them waiting in the back at a small round table, so I hurry toward them and slide into the seat between them.
“You’re late,” Charlotte points out.
I grimace. “Sorry.”
“You can make it up to us only by sharing every minute detail about how good Jace is in the sack,” Samantha says, then adds, “Is he packing? I bet he’s packing.”
I laugh. “Well, actually, we didn’t sleep together.”
Samantha’s mouth unhinges, and for a moment, I fear for her.
“Let me rephrase.” I clear my throat. “We didn’t have sex. We did, on the other hand, cuddle.”
“Oh my gosh. Is he a cuddler?” Charlotte asks, taking a bite of her apple.
