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I wanted to ask what law schools she was applying to, but I didn’t want to bother her. Instead, I moved into the food line and filled a tray before swiping my card and finding my own table near a window.

The sun was setting through the trees, leaving long, dark shadows across the brick walkways and still-green lawn spaces. Some students had pulled out their Demere hoodies and long-sleeve tees, but most everyone was still wearing shorts despite the cooler mountain nights now that it was October.

I shoveled food into my mouth as quickly as possible, vacuuming down a loaded baked potato and trying to make up for it by also eating a large grilled chicken salad. By the time I was done, I decided I had enough energy to stretch and ice my hips one more time before bed.

Before I could hobble out of the dining hall, Grace plopped herself down at my table. “Hey, you mind if I ask you something?”

I blinked at her. Since we were both pre-law, we’d been in some of the same classes. I definitely knew who she was, but we’d never really spoken one-on-one.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

My fingers closed around damp palms, pushed under the table ledge and into my lap. I’ve seen your brother naked. I know how the spongy head of his dick feels against the roof of my mouth.

Sweat began to break out under the hair on the back of my neck, and my breathing felt irregular. Did I look like someone who’d been fantasizing about being fucked by her twin brother? Was that something a person could look like?

“By any chance, are you using Professor Mazza for law school recommendations? It’s just… I really want her to write one for me, but she’s super nonresponsive. I’m trying to figure out if it’s just me or if maybe she’s just hard to pin down.”

It took my brain a minute to puzzle out what she was asking. “Oh. Er, no. I’m using Franks and Irvine. But I heard a senior last year complaining about Mazza. Maybe find out her office hours this year and corner her there?”

Grace and I had both taken Professor Mazza’s Philosophy of Law class last year, and I could see why she wanted the rec. Mazza had loved having Grace in her class. She was bright and engaged, not to mention smart as fuck.

She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I was hoping to avoid that. I have this irrational fear she won’t remember me.”

I snorted. “She’ll remember you. You did that whole legitimacy theory thing using The Hunger Games. She looked at you like you were Jesus.”

She grinned. “Weber for the win. Am I right?”

I rolled my eyes and huffed out a laugh. “It was good. Not gonna lie. And it helped lots of other people understand the concept. Ten bucks says she’s using it in this year’s class.”

Grace tilted her head in a way that was suddenly and overwhelmingly familiar. Her brother did that when he was considering what to say next. “Then you think she’s worth the stalking I might have to do to get the recommendation?”

I nodded and stood up, forcing my legs to work against their better judgment. “I do. She’s a great choice. And she’ll definitely remember you.”

She glanced at the strange way I was standing and quickly grabbed my tray. “Why don’t I take this for you? It’s on my way out.”

I considered arguing with her, but I was in too much discomfort. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

As she walked away, she turned back to glance at me over her shoulder. “Tell my brother to stop getting hurt. If he’s going to fight, he needs to win before the other guy gets a shot on him.”

I was… definitely not going to do that. I made a noncommittal noise and hobbled out of the dining hall and back toward Whitman. Stretching, then ice pack, then sleep. Screw any schoolwork I was hoping to do. There was no way I’d be able to focus with my body screaming from overuse and exhaustion.

When I got back to the room, I forced myself into static stretches, paying no attention whatsoever to Vaughn’s empty side of the room.

I didn’t care, and it didn’t matter. He was free to do whatever the fuck he did on a random Monday night.

This was a good thing. Better, really, because maybe I wouldn’t have to face his knowing smirk.

And maybe he’d bring someone else back to the room to hook up with, putting our own… whatever it was… solidly behind him.

My stomach roiled at the idea. Picturing him touching someone else made me want to commit legit murder.

I moved from the floor to the base of my desk chair before pulling myself up to sit. There were ice packs already in my dorm fridge’s freezer compartment. All I had to do was get over there and grab them.

Should have crawled there while I was on the floor.

The idea was a good one, actually. I let myself sink back down to the floor and crawled across the cheap-ass carpet.

I was midway across the room when the door opened.