Page 51

To my horror, after a small pause, he lies back too. Next to me. On my bed. The mattress dips. His shoulder is—Christ, his shoulder is inches from my shoulder. I am close enough to smell him. He smells exactly like you’d expect him to smell. Like man and sex and rock and roll.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“What for?”

“For… Being tense. With you. Tutoring and stuff.”

“You’re not tense. You’re a good tutor. I just mean you’re more fun when you’re relaxed.”

“Mm.”

“I mean it. Doc, you’ve actually been good for me. You don’t take any of my shit, and I think some of the stuff is starting to sink in.”

“Mm.”

He turns onto his side, toward me, and before I’ve decided to do it, I’ve turned onto mine. We are facing each other on my bed.

“What’s the deal with you?” he says. “Why are you so organized?”

“I have the MCAT in a few months, it’s like, super super important if you want to go to medical school. It’s a hard exam and a lot of work to prepare for.”

“That can’t be the only reason.”

“It’s a big reason.”

“What’s the rest?” He waits for my answer. He looks sincere, and maybe that’s why I tell him. Not all of the deep stuff, but more than I thought I’d share.

“It’s basically the biggest exam of my life,” I say. “I can’t fail it. I just, I can’t.”

He nods like he gets it, and my stupid traitorous brain suddenly wants to kiss him.

I’m not going to kiss him.

His eyes drop to my mouth. Mine drop to his.

“You’re allowed to let yourself have a little fun though. Even in tutoring.” He is still staring at my lips, and I swear, I’m about to do something crazy and insane like lean in and see how they taste⁠—

“BEA!”

Gianna.

The shout comes up the stairs. I jolt upright. I smooth my dress down. I look for Cal. He has somehow in the time it took me to jolt upright, gotten under my comforter.

“What are you doing?! “

“Hiding,” he mouths. “Obviously.”

“You’re fully clothed. You don’t need to hide!”

He opens his mouth then ducks under the covers.

Gianna appears in the doorway. Her hair is half out of its scrunchie, and her face is in full crisis mode.

“Bea, we have a problem. Sydney is crying.”

Not exactly news. “Crying about what?”

“Connor.”