Jax is an asshole. Daren is too. Gavin isn’t. But he probably thinks I’m a dumbass after what he heard yesterday.

I want to wallow in self-pity all morning, but I have to drag myself to math at the ass-crack of dawn. I sit in class, taking notes, copying down formulas, but my head doesn’t process anything except that my mechanical pencil is running out of lead.

I can’t believe Jax thinks this is all about Daren.

Another formula. Scribble, scribble. The professor asks whether we understand the concept. No. I nod yes.

In between classes, I take Gavin’s call. He says he understands that I don’t want to talk about what happened last night, but I’m sure he doesn’t get it. How could he? He has a nice two-parent household and younger sister, and they probably all sit around at dinner time and say shit like “Pass the peas!” and “How was your day, dear?”

By the time I get off the phone, I’m not sure I want to see him on Friday. I don’t like being put out for display. Harper is right about how I shut out people, but I can’t help how I feel. Gavin heard things I’ve only told one or two people, and I’ve only known him, what, a month?

Considering it was only twenty-four hours ago that I was marveling at myself in Professor Marceaux’s class and thinking my life was so great, I’d say the recent events are about on par with the shit that goes down in my life. How I thought I could change my luck now is beyond wishful thinking. More along the lines of delusional.

After another class, I trudge through campus toward the student union, exhaustion saturating my limbs. Lunch, I need lunch. My hands are trembling, probably from low blood sugar, and my head is so foggy I barely notice that I’m standing next to Brigit as I wait in a long line to pay for my food.

“Clem, how are you?”

I nod politely while I suck down some juice so I don’t pass out.

She ignores my grunt and says, “That pacing guide you emailed me is great.” She looks surprised I actually sent it to her. See, I’m not such a bitch.

“Glad I could help.” I offer a weak smile and pop a baby carrot into my mouth.

Her face lights up, and we end up talking about our schedules. She’s a sweet girl with big, soulful brown eyes that get even wider when she’s excited about something.

“Jason says you’re published, that your book is really good,” she says as I reach for my wallet.

Wheeler complimented my writing? Not what I was expecting. It doesn’t escape me that she’s calling him by his first name. It starts that way. Casually. Him asking you to call him Jason, you thinking he’s just cool and down-to-earth.

“He’s being kind. I’m sure it’s horse shit.”

She giggles and smiles appreciatively. “I’d love to read it. What’s the title?”

Oh, hell.

I pay for my lunch and pick up the tray. Turning to face her, I brace my hand on the counter, still feeling lightheaded. Wisps of her dark hair fall into her eyes, and I shudder to think how much Wheeler could hurt Brigit if I don’t do anything.

“Next,” the cashier calls out.

Brigit puts her food down to pay and turns back to me. “You write under a pen name, right? I swear I won’t tell anyone.” She bounces on her toes.

My breath catches, and I feel people move around me as I stand stock-still. A knot forms in my throat, the one that tightens when I think about how much Jason Wheeler knows about me. How he could destroy me. Again.

Internally, I debate whether this is the right decision, telling someone I hardly know. Wait. Why am I even considering this? I haven’t even told Gavin for fuck’s sake.

That lock of hair falls in her eyes again, and she smiles, and there’s something so innocent about her expression. Something I want to protect.

Sensing my unease, Brigit sidles closer to me. “Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” She holds up her pinky. Her nails are each painted a different color. I look closer and see that her pinkies are purple with little hearts. Good lord.

So, yes, I fucking pinky-swear in the middle of the cafeteria and decide she’s too cute for her own good.

But as I'm internally debating whether I can actually tell her the name of my book, someone yells her name across the cafeteria.

I turn to catch two girls motioning to Brigit, who huffs out a breath at the sight of her obnoxious friends.

“C'mon, Bridge!” the girl yells again. “Shake your ass!”

Brigit looks mortified.

I bump her with my elbow. “Go on. We'll catch up later,” I tell her, relieved at the reprieve. “I'll send you another handout I got in class this week. For your story.”

She nods, her smile reappearing, before she trots off to join her friends.

Exhaling, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I should know by now that confiding in a stranger is a cardinal sin. I have to find a better way to win Brigit's trust. And I can't wait much longer to tell her about Wheeler.

Grabbing my food, I settle at a table in the corner of the dining hall. Trying to shake off my lingering anxiety, I get out my laptop and grab my journal.

My cell buzzes, and I see a text from Jenna: I’m wet for you. Choking back a laugh, I write her back: Dry off.

Jenna: Whore, you’re supposed to play the game!

Munching on another carrot until I can think of a good Out-Skank comeback, I try to get in a dirty frame of mind. As I punch in the text with my thumbs, I look around to make sure no one can see my screen.

Me: Dripping wet makes for easy access.

Jenna: Want to slip and slide?

Eyeing a guy’s hot dog as he squeezes ketchup on it, I smile.

Me: Let me sink my meat into your bun hard and fast.

I’m blushing at my response when laughter bubbling up across the student union catches my attention. A tall redhead is tilting her head back, laughing flirtatiously at something a guy is saying. She has her hands on his shoulders as she leans in to say something obviously only meant for him to hear. They’re in a group of mostly guys, but she’s only paying attention to this one.

Angry Red. It’s the girl I overheard in the convenience store. Except now she’s wearing makeup and her hair is done.

She’s beautiful. Tall, leggy, with curves I could never have. I know I’m in great shape, but all that exercise means my boobs could never look like hers. I don’t know why I’m comparing myself to her. I don’t have body issues like a lot of girls, but for some reason I can’t stop watching her.

Deciding it’s rude to blatantly stare, I grab my sandwich. Boobs, I tell myself. Eating can give me bigger boobs. Just as I’m about to take a bite, I glance up, and my heart slams to a stop in my chest. Because the guy she is talking to, whispering to, touching, is Gavin.

* * *

The truth is, I have no idea what’s going on with Gavin and Angry Red. He and I never said we were exclusive. Hell, we’ve never actually been on a real date.

It’s not as though he can cheat on someone he’s not even dating. I bristle at the thought. He’s free to go out with whomever he wants, weirdo.

It’s not fair to judge him based on what happened with Daren, but I’ll be the world’s biggest idiot if I walk head-on into the same situation all over again. So I go straight to the only girl I consider an expert on these sorts of things: Jenna. After she compliments my Out-Skanking skills, I sit her on the couch.

Her mouth forms a small “o” as I explain what I saw at lunch, but when I’m done, instead of looking adequately horrified, she laughs.

“That’s his ex, Angelique,” she says like she’s relieved. I’m glad someone is because that knowledge doesn’t really clarify things for me. Of course the stunning redhead would have a name like some kind of A-list celebrity. Sensing my apprehension, Jenna pats my shoulder. “She’s, like, stalking him. He broke up with her this summer, but she won’t go away. I think she’s an RA too, so they’re always forced to do things together, but he’s not happy about it. He was complaining to Ryan about it at your party. She’s always tagging along, and he’s too nice to tell her to fuck off.”

Jenna bites her nail as she watches my reaction.

“I guess… I guess I am jumping to conclusions.” The more I think about it, the more I realize I never saw his reaction to Angelique being so close to him. He was facing away from me the whole time. I assumed he was into her because she looks like a red-headed version of Angelina Jolie. Yeah, unequivocally gorgeous.

But before I get too far ahead of myself, I tell Jenna what I overheard Angry Red say in the convenience store, and she shrugs.

“You know, you could always ask him about her and see what he says.”

Oh dear God, no. After everything that’s happened this week, the last thing I need to do is grill him about his ex. Because that would make it less awkward between us.

It sucks that he knows everything about my love life, and I don't know anything about his, which does nothing to assuage my unease. But in the end, I have no claim to Gavin. He’s a free agent, and I’m… well, I’m nobody.

I hug Jenna and shuffle back to my room. I need to stay focused on what matters, so I log on to Goodreads and scroll through my messages. Gavin and I might go to hell in a handbasket, but I have to graduate, which means I need to sell some books to pay the bills. I haven’t come this far to screw up now.

Most of my messages are from supportive fans, but when I get to one nasty review about Say It Isn’t So, I feel nauseous.

“How could the main character Isabelle be so stupid? I don’t know how your best friend sleeps with your boyfriend RIGHT UNDER YOUR NOSE and you’re clueless. I don’t buy the premise of this book. No girl is that big of an idiot. Plus, I can’t get over the fact that she goes out a few weeks later and has a one-night stand. She wouldn’t sleep with her boyfriend for nine months, but she’ll screw some stranger? What a moron.”

I’d like to write her and tell her, yes, people are this stupid. I’m living, breathing proof.

I shouldn’t let this person’s opinion bother me, but it does, which means I have to read her review three more times.

* * *

After class, Harper and I duck into the convenience store on the way home to pick up some half-and-half, a must-have for our caffeine-addicted household. As we reach the counter to pay, she gives me a look.

“What’s wrong, Clem? You’re acting weird.”

Now that I’m standing in one of the shops on the floor level of Warren Towers, I can’t stop thinking about it.

“Last Sunday, Gavin asked me out on a real date, and I think I’m getting cold feet. I mean, he’s a great guy, but…” There’s Angry Red, and Gavin heard my argument with Jax. It’s all too much.

“But you don’t want to get hurt.”

I nod, tears welling up in my eyes, which I blink away.

“I want to bail, but we’re supposed to go out tomorrow night, and it would be really shitty of me to cancel on him now, wouldn’t it?”

After Harper hands the clerk some money, she turns to me.

“You’re going to need to do what’s right for you. It’s not ideal to cancel tonight, but maybe that’s a better option than relapsing into panic-attack mode.”

She gets her change, tucks it into her wallet and twists her lips like she’s thinking. “How about this? Go see him now—make up a reason, any reason—and if you’re still freaked out after seeing him, you can politely back out, face to face. I think having the guts to do it in person makes up for the late notice. On the other hand, maybe seeing him is what you need to relax and be excited about going out with him.”

“You’re a genius.” Hooking my arm in hers, I smile. “But what can I use as an excuse?”

“Just say you thought you forgot something there—a spiral, notes, some lint,” she says, nudging me at her joke.

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Will you come with me? Up to his room? You can get a text or a phone call and have to leave right away, but I could use the moral support.”

“Sure.”

We walk up to the big glass doors that lead to the dorm. Once we’re in the elevator, my heart starts pounding.

“Relax, Clem.” Harper tightens her arm through mine. “He’s your friend, right? If you decide to not go out tomorrow night, a friend will understand.”

She has a point. And if I’m his friend, I shouldn’t bail. I’m chewing on this idea when the doors open to the eighteenth floor. Gavin’s door is open, but there’s no one there, so I knock and call out his name. That’s when I hear the music coming down the hall from the common area.

I let go of Harper’s arm and walk toward the sound of the guitar. When we reach the big open room, I see Gavin softly strumming, while about a dozen students crowd around, listening. His back is to us, and his head is down. Harper leans on my shoulder as we stand in the doorway listening.

His muscles flex through his fitted t-shirt as he plays. He’s such a natural. He plays well, but then he starts to sing, and holy shit, he’s amazing. His voice has a gravelly quality to it, but it’s also somehow soft and alluring.

Harper nudges me, whispering, “Wow.”

Everyone claps and hollers when he finishes. I clap too. Suddenly, the students seem aware that Harper and I are strangers, and their attention on us gets him to turn around. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the grin on his face melts me and the knots in my stomach. My face breaks into a smile. There’s something so honest and pure about his expression that it makes my chest hurt. How could I have been avoiding him?

He gets up to hug us, but as he’s wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he tilts his head back to look at me. He’s probably wondering what the hell we’re doing here.

“Hey, guys,” he says to the students as he grabs my hand and tugs me into the middle of the room. “You need to hear Clementine. Now this girl can sing.”

“Gavin, I don’t think—”

“C’mon, darlin’. Think of it as payback for all that inspiration.” Then he winks at me.

Damn that wink.

I shake my head as I rub the back of my neck. Pull it together, Clementine.

Harper is laughing. I’m trying to pretend I’m cool, but I’m sure the heat on my face gives me away.

Gavin repositions his guitar while he gets one of the guys to pull another chair next to his. He motions toward it, and with an eye roll I sit.

“Any requests?” he asks the room. Immediately, one girl shouts Maroon 5. He snickers. “Fiona, that’s a little high for me. Hmm…” He messes with a few chords, trying to piece together a tune before he turns to me. “Do you know their song Daylight?”

Nodding, I gulp, hoping that sound actually comes out of my mouth when I open it.

He smiles at me, and all of the doubts I’ve been harboring subside. “Great. The verses are low enough, so I’ll sing those, and you can do the chorus, okay?”

“Uh, sure.” Glancing around the room, I finally notice the girls are looking longingly at Gavin, or Murphy, as they call him. In the back, I see Carly wave to me. I grin, glad to see her back in her bubbly state.

Gavin starts playing, and I turn to watch him. There’s something really sexy about how his fingers work up and down the strings. But his voice. Adam Levine is a hard guy to follow, but between Gavin’s playing and the way he works the melody, it sounds fresh. I clear my throat, and on the chorus, I start in.

As I sing the chorus, I feel myself blush more. Thinking about the nights we’ve spent together makes me realize that the pain in my chest, the one that started when I walked in the room, is longing. I’ve missed him.

My pulse quickens when he looks at me and sings the verse about wanting to slow down time because he doesn’t want to leave.

When I come in on the chorus again, he harmonizes, and our voices meld together. Hearing how right this sounds sends chills down my arms.

I’ve never sung with anyone other than my roommates when we’re driving somewhere, but he makes this easy. I can’t keep his eye contact, though—it’s too intense—and I look away, but I sense him watching me, along with all the kids on the floor.

The instant we’re done, the room erupts in applause. I look at him and smile. “Not bad, Mr. Murphy.”

He grins back, that sexy-as-hell smile that is so incredibly delicious it makes my heart flutter. I’m trying hard to keep my breathing in check because being with him has me worked up. I don’t know why. I’ve never been into musicians. Never saw the appeal. I always thought they were too mercurial. Too undependable. Too capricious. But Gavin isn’t any of those things. He’s a steady, even force who’s loyal and good and, dear fucking God, hot.

Still foggy from the rush of that performance, the only thing that stands out right now is that I really, really want to kiss him. Now.

He’s about to say something when one of the kids shouts at us. “Why doesn’t she sing in your band?”

Gavin laughs and shakes his head. “Clementine has far too much class to sing with us.”

“Shut up.” I shove him playfully. He grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug, making me giggle.

“Dude, your girlfriend is hot,” one of the guys says from the back of the room.

I stiffen, not sure how to respond. We’ve been playing pretend these last few weeks, and the realization that my emotions might be just the side effect of some fictional flirting dawns on me. What if this is all about Samantha and Aiden, and Gavin’s just playing the dutiful book boyfriend? Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way.

I start to open my mouth, but Harper walks up, interrupting me.

“That sounded great, guys! I’d love to stay and hear more, but I gotta run,” she says, waving her phone as though she got an important message. “See you back home, Clem. Bye, Gavin!”

As she leaves, Gavin pulls me closer to him, and when his lips touch my ear, he whispers, “I’ve missed you.” And suddenly, I don’t care that I’m scared by how much I want to be around him, by what he makes me feel, by the things I want to do to him. All I can do is shiver.

Because I’ve never missed anyone more.

* * *

My chest aches, swelling and stretching with the emotion of the lyrics we sang. When he pulls me into the hall, I want to press my lips to his and run my hands along his fabulously hard body. My heart starts to beat faster as we get closer to his room.

So when Gavin stops in front of the elevators, I’m confused.

“Do you want to grab some coffee with me, and I can walk you home?” he asks softly as he presses the button.

Trying not to look disappointed, I agree. Did I do something wrong?

Gavin is unusually quiet as we head down to the corner coffee shop. He orders a black coffee, and I get a medium latte. We make small talk, but it’s uncomfortable and forced, a hundred-and-eighty-degree difference from the intimate moment we shared while singing.

Shit, maybe what happened with Jax weirded him out. Maybe he overheard all of that and thinks I am a big head case.

He stops in front of the steps of my brownstone.

“I’m going to head back,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. “Are you okay? Did my singing suck?” I joke.

He looks confused, and then he gets that crinkle in his forehead. “No. God, no. I only…” He stares at me a long minute and sighs. “Can I be honest with you?”

This can’t be good. My head speeds ahead to all the possibilities. He doesn’t like me. He is dating Angry Red. He wasn’t lying when he said he just wanted to be friends. Fucking hell.

I brace myself for the worst. He clears his throat as he watches a car drive by.

“I don’t trust myself to be alone with you.” What? He’s turned to the side, so all I see is his stoic profile. “I’m seriously fucking attracted to you, and I know you need to take things slowly, and I don’t want to screw this up, whatever this is, so that’s why I’m walking you home and stopping on your front steps. Because I want to be a gentleman.”

My heart goes into some kind of arrhythmia. Gavin saying that makes me want him so much more. I take the cup of coffee out of his hands and put it on the step next to mine. Turning to him, I push up on my toes so I can reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. With my body pressed up against his, I look up as a range of emotions cross his handsome face—surprise, confusion, desire—and when we’re nearly nose to nose, I pause.

“That’s the hottest thing anyone has ever told me,” I whisper before I touch my lips to his. It’s a sweet, soft kiss even though part of me wants to strip naked for this man. But he’s right. I need to take this slow, so I break from him after a minute and smile. Handing back his drink, I wink.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. For our date,” I say, and I walk inside.