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Will flinched.

And then the man himself walked in the door.

Has had lofted his bed and strung up a hammock for me underneath so I could sleep at their place on cold nights. It was about 45 degrees in my studio with the heat running, so I’d been hanging full-time since last week. I’d never felt better—I’d already planned to get one for my place.

“You look like a chrysalis,” Has said warmly.

“Thank you, babe,” I said. His hand rubbed my back against the bottom of the hammock, and then he goosed my butt, earning a yelp and a swat from me.

“Welcome home. Pot Roast?” From my cocoon, I produced the half-frozen Lean Cuisine I found in the back of the 12c freezer. If someone on the floor wants to claim it, fucking find me.

Will hadn’t said anything to Has yet, but he looked at the Lean Cuisine like it bummed him out. I frowned at his judgment. Not all of us are domestic goddesses, William!

“Thanks, but that looks like cold ass cheese,” Hasan said.

“Your loss,” I said, chucking it towards the trashcan. I missed and struggled to get out of the hammock, so Hasan took care of it.

“Hey, Will. Guess what we did today…” Has was excited. This was excellent news.

“What?” Will asked—pretty lamely, if I’m being honest.

I jazz-handed around Has best I could from my hammock, as he pulled out his set of keys, “Oh—only just closed on our house!” This was huge for us. We might actually have enough time to get some things fixed before Hasan has to move out of the dorms, and then we could both move into the house together.

Will was warm, but subdued. “Congratulations, guys. That’s awesome.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Has and I traded looks. Is our Hawkeye broken?

“You guys want to come to my mom’s for Thanksgiving?” Will changed the subject. I tried not to feel hurt. “Christian and Mari are coming. My family. The Swan.” Something about his tone made the invitation sound obligatory as fuck. My pulse kicked up.

I struggled to sit up in my hammock. “Do you want us to come?” I asked.

He didn’t seem like himself, but he was totally fine before Has came home.

“Sure,” he responded, not sounding sure at all. He was putting on his shoes. “My mom is a great cook. Eilidh will bring the booze.” He let his tied sneaker drop hard enough to make a sound. “I’m gonna smoke a cigarette, so you guys can think about it and let me know later.”

My chest felt tight, and my stomach rolled. I put my hand on the wall to stop myself from swinging. “Is Nathalie going to Thanksgiving?” God, I have no chill at all.

The corner of Will’s mouth ticked up just slightly as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head.

“You think I should invite her?’’ he asked.

Fuck no.

“Could be cool,” I croaked.

He chuckled as he closed the door behind him, and I slid down into my hammock again, feeling it tighten around my shoulders—a hug I didn’t know I needed.

I analyzed the handwriting like a detective. All caps, neat. Like a serial killer or a leftie. One of those assholes had written “POOP” on the buttcheek of my favorite yellow leggings, and with only two letters, I wasn’t able to determine definitively which one of them needed to pay.

I was looking for a smoking gun in Will’s class papers when I spied a folded-up piece of lined paper. Obviously, I shouldn’t open it—that would be a breach of his privacy. Totally not okay. Also, I didn’t even want to—clearly. It was probably just trash.

It was unlike me to even care what a folded note like that might say. I checked the calendar on my phone to see if I was about to start my period. Nope.

Thing was… Will asked Nathalie out with a note just like that in class. And he said she accepted with a note. Like maybe they are writing all of these sexy, adorable notes to each other in class—very Will to be that retro. Or perhaps it would just say “POOP,” and I would have everything I needed to pin this crime on the right suspect. There were a lot of reasons to check The Note.

Sitting on my hands on the desk, I was one of those kids in Mischel’s Marshmallow Experiment when Has walked in.

“Has, what do you think about grabbing that folded up piece of paper right there and checking just to make sure it’s not trash?”

He looked at The Note on Will’s bed. “I think you need to get a grip, Lou.” Ughh. “What is going on with you lately?”