“You think I’m hot, it’s totally fine. I think you’re beautiful. What’s a couple compliments between friends?”
I trip over my own feet and accidentally grab Mac’s arm to keep from falling. I grip one of his arms with both of my hands, and he freezes so I can steady myself. One of his hands covers both of mine, and he dips his head so he’s closer to my ear.
“That’s twice in one night, Matthews.” His voice is low and smooth. “Am I going to need to carry you home?”
Again that flutter shoots through my lower belly, and I straighten, releasing my grip on Mac. I tug my clothes straight and adjust my bag on my arm.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking,” I say primly.
“Yes, obviously. You’re in full command of your faculties.” He nudges me, and I teeter, but he catches me before I can tip sideways. I gasp, half-smiling, half-gaping at him, and point an accusatory finger.
“That was…!” I’m yelling, but I’m also laughing, and the words don’t fully come out right.
“God, Matthews. What’s wrong? Were you sneaking drinks at the library tonight?”
Holding onto my arm, he gently pushes me to the side and then pulls me back and does this a few more times like I’m wobbling, but Mac is in control of my movements. I’m laughing so hard I’m not sure I could walk straight even if he weren’t pulling me back and forth. Eventually, I wheeze out the words “Okay, stop, please,” and he does. He steadies me, and I realize we’re at the bottom of the stairs that lead to my dorm.
I straighten and catch my breath, but before I can say anything Mac has closed the space between us and wrapped me up in a hug. I’m still breathing a little heavily, and the press of his chest against mine as it moves with my labored breathing is a new kind of intimacy for Mac and me. It takes my body a minute to catch up with my brain, but I eventually hug him back. I hold my hands as still as I can, but I can feel his muscles under his hoodie. That clean laundry scent is all around me now, and I’m having trouble resisting the urge to relax into his arms, to rest my head on his chest.
“Good night, Jessie,” he says, his voice somewhat muffled by my hair.
“Good night, Mac,” I say and extricate myself from his arms. As quickly as I can, I run up the stairs to the door, the sound of Mac wishing me good night lost over my shoulder.
As soon as I’ve closed the door I lean against it, resting my head back and closing my eyes. I let my heart rate slow to a normal pace, holding my hand to my chest. I try to shake the feeling of him, but I can’t. He’s everywhere, like the scent of sunshine after coming inside on a summer day.
Besides the ferocious pounding, what is that feeling in my chest? That expanding lightness that makes me feel like I’m attached to a hot air balloon and I could take off any minute… Is that—?Oh god.Do I have a crush on Mac?
Maybe I do, but what does that mean for Sexy Shakespeare? Surely the kind of chemistry I had with a guy like that is impossible to find with anyone else. Lightning doesn’t strike twice and all that.
I walk to my room, questions and doubts circling inside me, trying to land. I let myself go back to Halloween night, an evening that’s already starting to fade despite it only being three weeks ago. The electricity I shared with that stranger is starting to feel more like just a small carpet shock. It all feels like a dream and less like something that actually happened.
Can I really keep living in a fantasy, pining for a guy I may never find, when reality is starting to look so much more tempting?
CHAPTERELEVEN
JESSIE
I’ve spent nearly all day searching for photos of Sexy Shakespeare on social media. This really is a last-ditch effort, but I could barely sleep last night after studying in the library with Mac all evening. I just kept thinking of him and the mystery guy and how maybe I like Mac and maybe I want Mac to kiss me, but I’m also not ready to let go of this stranger who made me feel so alive.
I’m running out of people I know whose photos I can dig through to find him. I’m just about to give up so I can finish my dinner and get ready for work, but as I inhale a forkful of Ramen noodles, I see it.
A man in a stereotypical Elizabethan shirt, masked, at the Halloween party. It’s not a great photo of him—it’s blurry and he’s sort of in the background, and it’s dark and his eyes are closed behind the mask—but it’s there. He’s there. He’sright there. I stop breathing for half a second before I panic-call Jade, only remembering to breathe again when she picks up.
“I found him. I found—a photo. I have a photo.” My words stumble over each other on their way out of my mouth, but Jade understands me just fine.
“Oh my fucking god. If this is an April Fool’s joke I am going to be so mad.”
“Jade, it’s November. Not a joke. We have to go. Tonight. ATZ. We have to find him. We have to ask around. Where are you?”
“I’m with George. Deep breaths, girl. Or just regular ones. I’m worried for you. Yes,
we will go.Don’t you have, like, work right now?”
“Shit. Yes. Um…okay, think, think, think. It’s a Saturday night, so parties will go late, right? I’ll text—um, what’s her name—? Someone can cover the last hour, and we’ll go at, like, eleven. Okay?”
“Done and done.”
I can’t finish my dinner now. I shove it to the side and with shaking hands text the person who works in the labs after me, promising to cover them an hour sometime if they’ll come in early tonight. They agree, and all I have to do now is make it through the next four hours.
