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My chest squeezes, because for once, this doesn’t look bad or wrong. I clear my throat, preparing to say, It’s nothing, and get the hell out of here.

“That guy . . .” Lily cuts me off, pointing at McKill. “He was hurting Toren. Pushed him and was saying a bunch of awful stuff. So I stopped him.”

She crosses her arms, nose in the air a bit arrogantly. It doesn’t have the same effect, considering she’s literally suspended off the ground in my arms, still holding her up by her waist.

Harris doesn’t ask for anything, only snaps behind him with a furious look to McKill.

“My office. Now.”

I take the out, dragging Lily away, pulling her along the hall toward the corner before releasing her arm. And I can’t stop staring at her. Why do I want to kiss her so fucking bad?

Cuddle her up in a blanket or fuck her slowly. Something. My skin feels stretched, desperate to do something gentle to her. To show her how I feel. How her defense of me felt.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her breath still harsh and loud.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head but keep my eyes on her, all over her. “Something stupid probably. C’mon. We’re taking your car.”

“But—”

“Lily, please,” I’m borderline begging and it makes my teeth ache. “Would you just come on?”

• • •

We’re in a corner booth against the window inside a café in downtown Waterfell, Lily across from me with her coffee in her grip, mimicking my exact positioning, and the National playing softly through the speakers.

A cinnamon roll sits on the table between us, a fork, a knife, a few napkins. And not one bite taken out of it.

Clearing my throat, I push the fork with my knuckles a little closer to her.

“Here.”

“What are we doing here?”

“Having a cinnamon roll.”

“Oh.” She nods then crinkles her brow. “Um . . . why?”

“I don’t know, Lil.” I blow a breath and run a hand through my hair. “I just needed to do something. For you.”

Lily looks almost stressed. She can’t stop biting her lips, chewing on them, making them flusher and plumper than they already are. The girl has never been aware of her own beauty, not entirely.

But she’s always been aware of mine. Which is almost hysterical.

I wasn’t the “hot guy” at our school. I was the punk rock weirdo emo kid—piercings in my ears and tongue, long hair, a little eye makeup when I felt like it—that everyone at our Polo Ralph Lauren school sneered at. It wasn’t cool to be alternative yet, so most of them saw me as more of an outcast than my status already made me, even if some of those preps wanted to take a ride on me for fun.

Lily saw me differently. I was just Toren, her Toren. She liked the brand names, the fancy expensive clothes, like the way she dressed—and I liked that about her too. But she was an outcast with me.

And I liked that more.

“Do you not like cinnamon rolls anymore?” I ask, my cheeks heating. What the fuck was I thinking? This is stupid. We barely know each other anymore.

Lily shakes her head. “It’s still my favorite.”

“Then, I want you to try it.”

She swallows and finally grabs the fork from my hand, her fingertips grazing mine with a little electric shock.

“Toren?”