ROWAN
My apartment was way too bright.
Serena was sitting cross-legged on the couch eating dry cereal straight from the box when I walked into the kitchen.
She looked up once.
Then narrowed her eyes immediately.
“Oh no.”
“What.”
“You have that face.”
I grabbed water from the fridge. “I don’t know what that means.”
“The ‘I’m emotionally screwed’ face.”
“Please stop talking.”
“That bad, huh?”
I drank half the bottle before answering.
Which honestly answered for me.
Serena’s grin got bigger. “Did you hook up?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
“Can everyone stop acting disappointed about that?”
“No,” she said. “Because the tension between you two is making people insane.”
Apparently the whole damn campus had opinions now.
Great.
I tried focusing on my laptop.
Didn’t work.
My internship application sat open on the screen untouched while my brain replayed Mason saying:
I’d rather know you got home okay.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Serena watched me from across the counter. “You like him.”
“I tolerate him.”
“That’s not denial anymore.”
