Page 64 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

I finished the water in a few swallows, left the empty glass in the sink, and headed out.

The walk to campus was cold. October had started pressing in, and the air was sharp enough to sting. I kept my hands in my pockets and my head down the whole way.

Cassidy was already at her locker when I walked in. I dropped my bag on the bench beside hers, unzipped my long-sleeved top, and reached for the sports tank.

“I’ve been very patient,” Cassidy said.

I pulled the tank over my head. “Patient about what?”

“With you pretending nothing is happening.” She shut her locker and turned to face me.

“He brought you coffee on Thursday, carried your bag yesterday, and you’ve said exactly zero words about any of it. I’m done waiting for you to bring it up on your own.”

I stopped with my hands still in my hair. “How do you even know about the bag?”

Cassidy’s grin was pure satisfaction. “I have eyes. And a very efficient network.”

“A network.”

“Yes. Mira saw you two on the path and told Talia. Talia told me at breakfast. We have a group chat.”

I stared at her. “You have a group chat about me.”

“We have one about everyone. You’re just the current main topic.”

I shut my locker harder than necessary. “Cassidy.”

“What? It’s college. People talk. You two aren’t exactly being subtle.”

A locker slammed two rows over. Naomi stood there, face tight, having clearly heard everything. She gave me one hard look, then turned and stormed out.

I grabbed my water bottle. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Cassidy fell into step beside me as we headed out to the field.

Both teams were already gathered at the track. Jackson stood with one foot up on the lower bleacher, stretching. He straightened when I came through the gate.

He had stepped it up over the past two days. Finding me between lectures. Brushing his hand against mine like it meant nothing when it clearly did. On Thursday we only shared one class, but he still managed to run into me twice—once outside the cafeteria and again on the path to the library. At twelve thirty he texted to ask if I had eaten. By twelve forty he was there with two coffees. Yesterday morning he was already waiting outside the locker room when I came out. That afternoon he came up behind me on the path, took my bag off my shoulder without asking, and walked me home.

His persistence was working on me. I could admit that much.

Beside me, Cassidy made a small noise. Jackson had stepped away from the bleacher and was already walking toward us.

"That's my cue," she said, already backing away. She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Have fun."

She left, water bottle swinging, heading for the start line.

Jackson reached me a second later.

"Morning."

"Morning."

His eyes moved slowly over my face, scanning. He’d done it every morning since the first marks appeared. Whatever he saw today, his shoulders eased a fraction.

He stopped close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him.

"You know," he said, "seeing you has become my favorite part of the day."