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Pushing on the metal door, the chilly December air slices through me immediately. I pick up my pace as I head toward my car. I’m officially finished with this semester. Pulling my coat up around my neck to try to ward off some of the cold, I keep my head down, hoping that helps. When I get to my car, I see two boot-covered feet. Very big feet. I stop and look up to find Holden leaning against my car with his feet crossed at his ankles.

“You were supposed to text me,” he says in greeting.

“I was going to once I got in the car. It’s freezing-ass cold out here.”

“Come on, my truck’s running, and I’m taking you to lunch.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him lead me to his truck that’s parked beside my car that I didn’t even notice. He pulls open the passenger door, and the heat surrounds me. “Buckle up,” he says before closing the door and rushing to the driver's side.

I place my hands over the vents to warm them up. “I don’t remember it being this cold in December,” I tell him when he slides behind the wheel, bringing a gust of cold wind with him.

“Yeah, the news said we’re having lower than normal temperatures right now.” He reaches over and takes my hands in his, brings them to his lips, and blows. “How was your final?” he asks.

I smile at him. “Good. I finished early and read over my answers twice. I knew the material.”

“Of course you did.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“Well, I drove around campus until I saw your car and just so happened to find a spot right next to you. Luck is on my side today.” He winks.

“Who did you have to sign an autograph for?” I ask him.

He laughs. “Some guy. He recognized me right away, and apparently, he’s my biggest fan. A little chitchat and a signed notebook later, he gave me his spot.”

“I bet he was curious as to why you wanted this particular parking spot. You better be careful, Bailey. Rumors are going to fly.”

“Yeah?” he asks as he leans over the console. “Too bad these windows are tinted. We could really give them something to talk about.” He winks, closing the distance and dropping a kiss to my cheek before falling back into his seat. “He was curious. I told him I was waiting for my girl.” His words make me warm and tingly all over, and the cold outside is long forgotten.

“So, where are we going?”

“I wanted to take you to celebrate. I thought we could grab a late lunch. Besides, I was having Parker withdrawals. I haven't seen you since Monday. That’s far too long, sweet pea. Far too long.”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, reaching for my seat belt.

“Wherever you want to go.”

I pretend to think about it when I already know what I want. “How about Mexican? I think this deserves a margarita or two.” I smile. Before he can answer, my phone rings. I dig it out of my purse and show him it’s Autumn calling. “Hey,” I greet her.

“We’re done!” she yells, making me laugh and pull the phone away from my ear. “It’s time to celebrate. Where are you?”

“I’m sitting in the parking lot just outside of Margaret Hall in Holden’s truck.”

“Well, you two are late. Meet us at the Tasty Quesadilla.”

“I’ll let you know.” I don’t really know if Holden is going to be up to hang out with my friends. I don’t know if I’m up for Holden hanging out with my friends.

“Parker,” Autumn whines. “Put Holden on the phone.”

“I’ll text you.” I ignore her request.

“I’m going to keep blowing up your phone,” she tells me.

That’s fine. I can turn it off if I need to. “I’ll let you know.” I don’t wait for a reply before ending the call.

“What’s up?”

“That was Autumn. She and some of our friends are actually going to Mexican, so we can pick somewhere else.”

“What?” He furrows his brow. “Why would we do that?”

“I’m sure you don’t want to spend the afternoon hanging out with my friends.”

“I don’t care who’s there as long as you are, and you're sitting next to me. Everything else doesn’t matter to me.”

My heart races at his confession. How am I supposed to keep from falling for him when he says things like that? What’s worse is that I believe him. He’s looking at me, staring into my eyes, and this isn’t just a ploy to get me into his bed. If it is, he’s a damn good actor. He really just wants to hang out with me.

I place my hand over my heart. “You make my heart race, Holden Bailey,” I confess.

He places his hand over mine and entwines our fingers. “Good race or bad race?”

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