She adjusts her crossbody-style purse over it. “What did you say?”

I blink. “Three. It’s the magic number.”

She gives me a half-smile. “Right.”

“Ready?”

She nods, hiding her face. “Yeah. Let’s get out of this place.”

I throw an arm around her, being casual, yet aware of the press of her against me, that sweet scent of hers that stirs the air.

I guide her out the door, my hand at the small of her back. It’s a sizzle to my skin, but I shove it down. A row of pledges are lined up (on my orders), blocking the view from the dance floor. I give them a nod as we dash for the exit to the right and step out into the cold air.

I nod my head at the parking lot to the side of the house. “My truck’s over here.”

She looks around the property, a furrow on her brow. “I’m leaving when he’s the one who should be embarrassed for being such a dick,” she mutters. “But it’s his house, and I’m embarrassed. Ugh.”

Several partiers are stand in the front yard, dancing, laughing, drinking, but no one seems to notice us.

I pop the lock on my truck, and she crawls in the passenger side. I slide in and give her a long look, then glance back to the road as I crank the vehicle.

Lost. She looks lost.

“Audrey will be disappointed when she can’t find you,” she says quietly as I drive down the street and make the turn that takes us off Greek Row.

“I haven’t been with her in months…” My words taper off. I don’t want to talk about that. Would she want to know that when I fucked, she was the one in my head? Probably not. The night she opened the door and saw me, shame washed over me, deep and thick, which was crazy because I had every right to fuck whoever I wanted. She had Donovan! But she…

Her eyes. Her face.

I can’t be with anyone like that again.

She’s gotten her phone out and gasps.

“What?”

I glance over at her, and she shows me a post on IG, a picture of Donovan and Harper on a couch in the den of the house, snuggled up. “Wow. That didn’t take long. Mellany posted it. True love always wins over skanks is the caption.” Her hands tremble. “She also posted the audio of the breakup, it seems. I can’t…”—her head shakes—

“…listen to it. Not yet.”

A long exhalation leaves my chest. I figured this was coming. That conversation behind the curtain went on way too long for people not to jump on it.

She squeezes her hands into fists. “I lost your toga piece. Do you have something I can clean my face with? Tissues or a napkin—” She fumbles with the glove box, opens it, and stops.

She pulls out the copy of The Outsiders, her lips parting. “River? You kept this?” Her eyes widen as she looks at me.

I shift around, tensing. “Yeah.”

She lets out a long breath. “It’s my copy from when I was thirteen, a childhood treasure. I met the author, my parents arranged it, and I got to talk to her about the characters. Normally, I wouldn’t have loaned it out, but that day…wow, I wasn’t myself…” Her lips tremble. “I assumed you set fire to it and did a victory dance around it. Did you read it?”

Tension rolls over me at the memory of that day in the kitchen with her.

Her in that bathing suit. My loss of control.

Did I read it?

A harsh laugh comes from me and I clench the steering wheel. “Yeah. It took me”—a month of reading every night—“a while, but yeah. Every single word…” is etched on my soul. “‘Stay gold, Ponyboy.’ That’s what Johnny told Ponyboy. He begged him to fight against the odds, to always hold his breath right before the sunrise and to watch every sunset,” I say. “My favorite quote is, ‘You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want.’”

Wonder colors her voice as she clutches the book to her heart. “You read it. My God. You get it, you get it. Out of all this…debacle tonight…to discover this? You have no idea what it means to me. Yeah, I know it’s a young adult novel, but I never dreamed you’d really read it and…and I-I feel better for some reason, knowing you know a quote…thank you.” A tear slips down her face, and the thing is, she isn’t making a sound, and I don’t think she realizes she’s crying. I’m not sure why she’s thanking me, but maybe it’s for getting her out of there, then the book.

Maybe everything is crashing down on her.

I swallow thickly. I wrote her name in it, too, slowly, with painstaking care, being sure. My handwriting is crazy messy, and I prefer typing. I highlighted passages. I held it so much the color rubbed off the cover. I’m thankful the cab of the truck’s dark and she doesn’t notice as she sticks it back in the glove box.

I turn on my playlist. “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls croons from the speakers, a song about a guy who wants a girl to know who he is, where the truth meets the lies.

She leans her head back on the seat. “My favorite quote from The Outsiders is, ‘Greasers grew up on the outside. They weren’t looking for a fight. They were looking to belong.’ I don’t have it as bad as the Greasers, but I’ve never fit in. Donovan’s right about his family. They never would have accepted me.”

“Everything is relative. Sometimes a person can be your home.”

She chews on her lips. “I have to tell you something…” She stops and looks out the window.

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

She continues to stare out at the passing buildings. A long breath comes from her chest. “That night, in the library, I’d have bet a hundred bucks you’d be the one waiting for me. I know, it’s weird, but when you came over and dropped your pen, I don’t know, I thought we had this moment…” She stares down at her lap. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Silence reigns in the truck.

My jaw clenches.

She’s quiet as I approach her apartment and pull into an empty parking spot.

Her hand goes to the door handle, then she stops and glances back at me. “River, I lied. I-I don’t want to be alone.”

I draw in a sharp breath as her stark emotion spears me, those big green eyes.

Don’t leave me, they plead.

I put my vehicle in park. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…” to be alone with you in your apartment.

She gives me a jerky nod. “No, no, I totally get it—that’s not what I meant. Of course not. You and I…we aren’t even friends. You’re Donovan’s friend. I meant, I should have brought my roommates. I wasn’t thinking straight. They’d know what to do. My head is jumbled.” She runs her finger down the leather of the seat. “Being alone is the worst.”

Fuck.

Taking her home is one thing. Spending time with her is another.

“Where do you want to go? Are you hungry? We can hit a drive-through—”

“No, I can’t eat. I’ll throw up. Just drive?”

“Drive?”

A faint smile flits over her face. “Yeah. Ever been to Henning Park at sunrise?”

I start. “You want to stay out all night at a park?”