In the line to pay for my biology and calculus books, Jeremiah examines all the crappy trinkets and goodies they try to get people to buy while waiting. I bet he would love joining Mom for a fishing expedition through the $1 bins at Target.

“Oh, check this out,” he says. He finds an MTSU troll keychain with pink hair. “You need this.”

“I don’t need a troll doll,” I say with a laugh.

“You’re getting it.” He tosses it into the basket.

The girl behind us, who only has one book in her hand, glances into our basket. “Don’t tell me you’re actually buying your books?” she asks, incredulous.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I say.

“Who actually reads their books for class? You should only bother reading if you have a test coming up or a paper to write. And then you could just borrow the book from somebody in class or the library.”

I peer up at Jeremiah to get his opinion. He shakes his head at the girl. “Annie, the biggest problem you have with buying these books is hauling them back to your dorm. They’re heavy as hell.”

“That’s not a problem. That’s what you’re here for.” I nudge his side, making him laugh.

The girl behind us huffs and starts playing with her phone, taking quick peeks at Jeremiah. He yawns, ignoring her. I bet she wishes she hadn’t tried to embarrass me now.

“Besides,” Jeremiah starts, “you can sell these books back to the bookstore at the end of the semester, and you can use the money for Christmas presents.”

“Good to know,” I say. “Will you help me carry the books back at the end of the semester too?”

“Of course. And then you can turn around and buy my Christmas gift. I got a hankering for some matching sweatshirts.”

I playfully smack his arm and the girl behind us huffs again. She must be jealous of happy people. I smile at Jeremiah, who’s busy looking at a rubber chicken wearing a tiny MTSU jersey. He really does make me happy. Being around him clears my head just like running does.

When we lug my bags of books through my bedroom door, we discover Vanessa chatting with Rory over the computer. Thank God they aren’t having Skype sex or something.

I plop my keys and new troll keychain down on my desk. Jeremiah insisted on buying it for me. He named it Jay-Z for some unknown reason.

“What is that?” Vanessa ask.

“A troll keychain,” I say. “Named Jay-Z.”

“Isn’t it awesome?” Jeremiah grins.

Vanessa holds the troll up to the screen. “Ror, isn’t this keychain hideous?”

“No, he’s right—it’s awesome,” Rory replies. “Can you get me one of those, babe?”

Vanessa takes Rory and her computer into the kitchenette. I think she wants to give us alone time.

I turn on some music and take the books out of my bags to line them up on the bookshelf. Jeremiah turns his attention to his phone and starts texting away. When he plops down on my bed, his track pants ride up, revealing a thick white bandage wrapped around his lower leg.

A bandage…

I rush to kneel next to it. “What happened?” I gently touch the bandage and he winces. Whatever the injury is, it’s tender.

His face flushes as he bends to remove my hand from his leg. “It’s nothing.”

“What did you do?”

“What you told me not to do,” he says quietly.

“Motocross?”

A curt nod.

How stupid of me to think he’d show up unscathed. When has he ever been known to do that? “Tell me what’s wrong with your leg,” I say, staring at the bandage.

“Burned it on the bike.”

I clench my eyes shut. Goddammit. What if he breaks his leg next time? Or loses it? I bury my face in the heels of my hands until I feel him gently touching my shoulder.

“I’m all right. I accidentally knocked my leg into the metal when I was getting off. It was an amateur move. Probably because I am an amateur—”

“Are you going to do motocross again?” I interrupt.

“No. If it upsets you, I promise I won’t.”

“How can I believe that?”

“Because this is better than motocross.”

“What is?”

A pause. Drums his fingers on his knee. “Just sitting here with you.”

God…hearing that is scarier than him BASE jumping off the Empire State Building.

“Hey,” he says quietly, sliding off the bed to sit next to me on the floor. Our shoulders touch. A shiver slivers up my spine. “My leg’ll be fine.”