Not hate, Rainbow.

“You can deny all you want, but it’s there. If you kissed me, hate or attraction, yeah, we’d probably hook up just to get it out of our systems, and that has nothing to do with my ex.” She sighs.

I stand up, uncertain how to reply.

“How’s your head?” she asks.

“Better. Strange…they usually last hours. You think we have a connection?” I can’t let it go.

“Yes, but…” A frustrated expression flits over her face. “I guess we do need ground rules. First, no talking about my lips. And stop saying my name like you want to fuck it.”

“Hmmm. Anastasia,” I murmur, dragging out the syllables. “Sounds totally normal to me.”

“It’s not!” She inhales.

“Sorry.” Not.

“Moving on, tomorrow, we’ll meet in the library at eight. Don’t be late, and don’t have any of your hangers-on with you—”

“Who?”

Her eyes spear me. “Don’t act like you don’t have girls all over you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, I’m rearranging my schedule at the bar to fit you in this week. Don’t waste my time. Bring your book and your notes. Keep up the work in the meantime. Also, Lila mentioned a possible candidate for this revenge thing—”

“What? Already?”

“—and he just so happens to be in a study group at the library during the week. Don’t ask how Lila knows these things. She just does.”

My voice lowers and I cross my arms. “I thought you were waiting until the ski trip.” I don’t want to think about this part of our revenge pact yet.

“No time like the present. Might as well get my rebound in, check it off, post the hell out of it, then continue at the ski trip. Yeah, he’s going.”

“Who is this guy?” I mutter, a tight feeling growing in my chest.

She fiddles around in her backpack, pulls out her phone, and shows me a picture Lila texted her. I lean into her space and check him out. He’s handsome, I guess, dark hair, olive skin, and a blinding white smile. Prick.

“You know him?”

My lips compress. “Kian Brewster. Top of his class, going to Cal Tech for grad school, not Greek but popular, comes to parties we host, not a great people person, in my opinion, but also not a good friend with Donovan. He’s considered a genius.”

“Wow. In awe.”

“Again, I recall details that don’t matter.”

“Still. No wonder people love you. You know them.”

“Mhmm.”

“Anyway, Lila says his ex cheated on him with her ex, so we have similar situations. I’ve seen him but haven’t talked to him, but we can mosey past their study group and you can do the intros. Here, meet Ana, she’s awesome, hey you two should hang out, and maybe get in her pants on the ski trip kind of thing. But not too obvious. I’m trusting you to handle that aspect. You’re the social butterfly and I’m the shy moth in this scenario. He’s perfect, and not bad to look at. Yes?” She pushes it at me again, and my nose flares.

Okay, I lied about him being a prick. He’s an alright dude.

So why do I want to rip the phone out of her hand and stomp on it?

“You’re really going to do this?”

“Did you doubt me? Please. I’m a woman of my word. We made a pact. I help you, I get a rebound fuck. Revenge is oh so sweet.” She purses her lush lips, her attitude fiery.

At the sound of that dirty word on her lips, jealousy and lust slam into me. Every atom in my body buzzes. I want to push her against the wall, wrap her legs around my waist, and show her exactly how I fuck, hard and fast, her hair clenched in my hands, my name on her lips—

Whoa.

She tells me some things to work on for my paper then she’s out the door. She said bye, but I didn’t reply.

I suck in a deep breath and fall back on the bed. I stare up at the ceiling, replaying everything in my head, from the moment she entered the house to the words she uttered.

She thinks my differences make me better.

A smile ghosts over my face—before I shut it down.

How the hell am I going to walk away when she finds her guy?

17

I stuff the last of an unsalted pretzel into my mouth as I come out of the student center on Tuesday afternoon. Damn, it tastes pretty good. Who knew? I smile at nothing, probably looking like an idiot as I think about Anastasia’s lame comebacks outside the elevator.

I laugh, and a guy walking past gives me a long look.

I’m not crazy, my glance tells him. Just high on life, and those moments have been few and far between lately.

“Good day,” I murmur to myself. I checked off a study session with her in the library last night and kept my cool. Even though we sat side by side, I kept myself in line and got work done. It was hard, the proximity, can’t say it wasn’t, but we focused on the book. Just being around her soothes me in a way I can’t explain.

My phone rings.

“Mom!” I hitch my backpack up on my shoulder and head across campus.

“Hey, honey,” she says.

Frowning, I stop in front of one of the giant oak trees on the quad. “You only call me honey when you sit me down and impart wisdom you think I need to hear.”

“Ha. Funny. Trust me, you always needed it. Remember that time you thought it was a good idea to ski down a diamond slope at thirteen, then ended up in a new town on the other side of the mountain? Or the time you let a skunk in the house because you thought it was a stray cat? The house was covered in skunk spray and your father and I had to move us to a hotel for five days. I won’t even mention the day you shaved off your sister’s eyebrows.”

“I was ten and she asked me to,” I say on a small chuckle.

“Never a dull moment with you.” She sighs.

“How was your doctor’s appointment? The tests?”

“Some of my exhaustion has abated. I went to the grocery store today after my visit. I can smell food without gagging. Life is good.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I hear Callie in the background. “Nana, color with me!”

My hand grips the phone as my voice lowers. “Is it gone? Did the chemo work?” She beat it once. She beat it once…

There’s a long pause.

“Progression.” Her words are soft. “It’s okay, I promise. This is something I prepared for mentally. Been there, checked out the library book. My spirit is stronger than cancer. You know it, I know it…” She stops, her breath hitching.

My world crashes. “Mom…”

She clears her throat. “We can cry. We can shake our fist at God. We can scream if we want, we can, and trust me, I have, but we don’t give up.”

“I’m not,” I say, closing my eyes. “Never.”

“I know you aren’t, but I need to remind you. And myself.” She pauses, and I picture her face, see her in our kitchen, battling to be strong for me.

“Was Rae with you? You weren’t alone?”

“She was with me.” She pauses. “Sometimes certain drugs work and sometimes they don’t. Our bodies are all different. Not all treatments are the same, and they’re monitoring me closely. It doesn’t mean all is lost. It means a new way of fighting.” A small laugh comes from her. “We hoped for a partial remission or just a stable prognosis, but I’ve got this, River. I’m a survivor. I’m the luckiest mom in the world. The best grandma ever.”