There’s a long silence. Johnny and Baby are on the screen, but Ava and I stare at each other.

“Everything else just covered a whole lot of stuff you aren’t saying,” she says softly.

My heart dips. I really don’t want to talk about Mom and the final straw that tore her down. It’s too close to what happened to Ava. “Tulip, don’t… Let’s just watch the movie.”

At first, I think she’s going to press me, but something she sees on my face changes her mind.

“Of course.” She turns back to the screen and the moment is gone.

Time passes, and I watch the movie, or do I? The images are there, but she’s here, and my muscles are wired, and why did I want to do this and why am I torturing myself with someone I can never have?

I don’t want to even be her friend.

So why do I want to know her favorite color?

What’s in that locket she clutches?

What makes her happy?

Why does she love tomatoes?

I glance down at the notebook she’s been half-heartedly writing in, reading her notes.

Who calls a grown woman Baby?

Awkward, but opinionated. She’s the real hero. Courageous. Forces her family to see what she sees.

Johnny is hot. Dude can dance. He’s kind. Cares for his friends. Men should be kind. Kisses AMAZING. Dang. He knows how to look at a woman. And dance. Heard he was a ballet dancer in real life.

Romantic aspect: First love. Love in adversity. Love between opposites. Palpable chemistry, that’s for damn sure…

And then the pen falls out of her hand, her body sways, just a little, coming closer, and her head bobs forward, then back to the wall, then she’s lying on my shoulder. Out cold.

The room is hot. Fucking stifling.

My hands clench.

So close.

So damn close to me.

A broken girl.

A fierce girl.

Just for me.

God, how I want that.

Her body shifts imperceptibly closer to mine until the side of her face presses against my chest. The final scene plays as the staff dance and Johnny catches Baby when she does that fancy jump thing. I barely notice—hell, I’m barely breathing when the credits roll, and I still haven’t moved five minutes later, afraid to jostle her, to lose how good she feels, the warmth of her arm against mine, the scent of her hair in my face.

Moving slowly, my hand touches her hair, my finger drifting over the edge of her jaw. So delicate. So soft. Sliding a strand of hair behind her ear, my head goes back to last year when she was in that tub at Chance’s and I was…well, doing what I was doing. I was so pissed and angry at myself, at her, watching her dance, with him, driving myself nuts imagining them doing more. She was his, and I’m an asshole, but I’d never hurt my best friend.

My hand caresses her nape, that delicate skin under her hair—

“What! What did I miss?!” She jerks back, wiping at her face, shuffling away from me.

And she’s gone.

My hand falls. I can’t look at her, so I stare at the laptop.

“Crap! Did I miss the ending?” She blows out a breath.

Inhaling, I say, “It’s over, Tulip.”

And I don’t mean just the movie. I have to shut down this rollercoaster she’s put me on.

A sound of frustration comes from her lips. “Ugh! I was wiped out! First week of school and work and Tyler and school…” She pauses as a small bell dings in the room. “And they’re closing in fifteen minutes! We didn’t even talk about the movie!” She stands up, hands on her hips as she paces as much as she can in the room. “What now?” She checks her phone. “It’s almost ten and the entrance at the dorms will be locked—”

I finally move when my legs feel steady, standing up next to her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. Don’t worry about the notes. We’ll figure it out in class.”

She frowns, gathering her backpack. “We can sit on the steps outside the library, on the fountain where there’s plenty of light, and go over—”

“No.”

“Why not? I’m not sleepy anymore. I can call Wyatt, and he’ll open a side door for me—”

“No.”

She pauses, tilting her face up, looking at mine. Granite. I’m stone. Have to be.

Her shoulders rise. “I see.”

I stuff my laptop in my backpack and gather up our trash from the snacks.

She watches me. “Are you pissed because I fell asleep?”

“I just need to go, charity case.”

Her lips thin. “We could have done this over the freaking phone.”

But she’s talking to my back because I’m already walking out the door and holding it open for her.

Our eyes meet. Hers are a stormy sea. Mine are…shit, they’re cold, I hope.

She takes a little breath, straightens her shoulders, and slides past me. I inhale, just one more time, just a hint of vanilla.

“I have to go…check on Dane.” Which is true. He sent me several texts already, asking where I am. He’s home alone, and I haven’t responded, and that isn’t like me.

She doesn’t reply and I follow her, keeping a step between us as we go down the three flights of stairs, moving past other students on their way out. She walks with her shoulders rolled back, confident, like she belongs here—nothing like Camden where she alternates between forced viciousness and that vulnerable bend in her frame.

She smiles at someone who catches her eye, a guy, and he turns around backward to watch her ass. Giving him a withering glance, I continue on, catching up to her until we’re side by side.

We exit, past the steps, past the trickling fountain, all the way out to the parking lot, to her car. Neither of us speak.

She opens her door, throws her backpack in the passenger side, and starts to get in then stops and pivots to face me.

Her chest rises. “What is wrong with you? You wanted to do this. You wanted us to watch it together. Why are you such a dick—” Her eyes widen and she reaches out a hand and touches my chest. Confusion clouds her face. “Knox, why…why are you shaking?”

Her palm flattens to my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how fast it’s beating.

My mouth dries. I blink. I might pass out.

We just stare at each other, and the night is warm, and her hand is hot, electric sparks firing from her to me. I think if you tell yourself something enough, over and over again, just maybe you can make it come true. I can’t have her. I can’t have this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

I’ll settle for me. For Dane. For football.

Your life is so fucked up, a dark voice insists, laughing mirthlessly.

If only you’d staked a claim before Chance.

If only…

I jerk away from her and she gapes at me, shaking her head in confusion.

“Knox?”

I look away from her and stare at my feet. Familiar shame and guilt ride me hard, slugging at my heart, ripping it apart.

I left her.

I fucking left her because I was upset because she kissed her boyfriend.

How messed up is that?

I want her.

I fucking do.

But you can’t take a beautiful, soft flower and crush it under your cleats, not when she’s halfway to broken already.