Life went on. I didn’t call Alex, and he didn’t call me. Cascade didn’t call Zara, although she did have her number attached to the fridge. Sometimes Cascade paused and looked at it, but she never said anything.

It was mid-February and uncharacteristically cold. We huddled gratefully in the back of the lecture hall. Here, we were safe from the cold and the piercing eyes of our professor, the monotone-voiced, rambling Dr. Branson. Cascade and I had a tradition of always taking one of our classes together per semester. She had no desire to take my advanced math or science classes, and I would’ve been lost in her advanced literature classes. So we pooled the required classes that neither of us liked—history, behavioral science, and art—and took them together. Neither of us cared much for American history after 1880, but we both wanted to graduate. So there we were.

We passed notes like we were in elementary school, except when Cascade was doing her daily browsing ritual. She’d pull open her laptop and browse the internet, pretending to be studious. The funny thing was she had an order to the websites she visited. First was the Revelist, which Cascade insisted was the best beauty site on the web. This was followed by an exploration of Twitter, which was followed by Facebook, her four different email accounts, and Instagram. Sometimes I watched her; Cascade’s internet browsing was infinitely more interesting than our professor.

At this time, Alex would be in class, too. He’d somehow managed to put off taking the dreadfully boring Freshman Seminar all the way until his last semester. He’d hoped that the requirements for his degree would change and exempt him from taking it, but he’d had no such luck. Over the past month, he’d texted me many times, and I’d taken a sort of glee in hearing him complain about how he was having to learn study skills and the location of the campus police department. It was almost comical how upset he seemed with this turn of events.

Cascade nudged my calf with her foot. She angled her computer slightly towards me. It showed her Facebook friend requests. Zara’s smiling face showed on the screen, accompanied with a greeting and a winking face.

Go for it, I wrote in my notebook.

Cascade grinned and cheerily accepted the request. At least her love life was working out. I returned to doodling constellations and cubes in my notebook, which contained far fewer notes than it probably should have. I’d learned about the Progressive Era at least twice in my high school history class and four times in English because my teachers just wouldn’t let The Great Gatsby die. We’d covered it in American literature during my freshman year of college, too. I had this.

Cascade had opened a chat window with Zara. I didn’t care much about what they were saying as long as Cascade was happy. I cared more for the clock in the corner of her screen. There was no conceivable way that we still had fifteen minutes of class to go. Someone had asked Dr. Branson a question, and he’d somehow managed to go from discussing the Roaring Twenties to talking about President Reagan. He was like that Wikipedia game where you start on a random page and keep clicking links until you reach Hitler. This man seemed to follow an entirely undecipherable train of logic. Maybe that was why all his questions came straight from the textbook. Or maybe his graduate assistant made the tests and was simply taking pity on us all.

Ten minutes. I began to wonder if I’d died, and this was some sort of purgatory—an endless, infinitely boring history lecture. I really should’ve checked this man’s Rate My Professor page before agreeing to take this class with Cascade.

Blessedly, it ended. I shoved everything into my backpack and threw it over my shoulder. Cascade packed up her laptop and pulled out her phone instead.

“How’s Zara doing?” I asked, trying to get my tone to resemble polite disinterest.

How is Alex doing?

“She’s great,” Cascade said. “Busy, obviously. She’s going to the big werewolf conference up in New York next week.”

Mentally, I calculated the days. Yes, that was a full moon. I wondered if they all planned on running through the woods together. But then, I didn’t really know if that was common practice or not. I’d never taken much interest in the practices of werewolf packs until I met Alex, and after Alex, I tried not to think about it too much. Sometimes, I was more successful than others. I’d once gone two days without thinking of Alex before—in the middle of astronomy lab—suddenly thinking of all the atrocious pick-up lines Alex, being a werewolf, would have at his disposal. My lab partner, the poor soul who’d seen me forget my astronomy lab book so often he started bringing me photocopies of his pages, had merely looked at me with a sort of dead stare.

“Sounds fun,” I said.

“It does,” Cascade agreed.

We merged with our classmates, who were equally as desperate to escape history class.

“We should go somewhere,” Cascade said. “For spring break.”

I might’ve been planning a dramatic fake breakup with Alex over spring break if this had ended differently.

“Like where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Pensacola, if you want to stay close.”

“The last time we went to the beach, you lathered up in sunscreen and looked like a lobster after only two hours.”

“And you looked exactly the same as normal and rubbed it in my face like a massive jerk,” Cascade said.

We paused by the wall to let our classmates pass. Getting through the halls of the humanities building was always a pain. “It’s not my fault you aren’t as pigmentally gifted as me,” I joked.

“Hilarious,” she said. “Fine. We’ll go and watch the opera of something. The Man of La Mancha is playing.”

“That sounds Spanish.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “It’s Miguel de Cervantes.”

I looked blankly at her. “Is that…an explorer?”

“Nick. He’s the most famous Spanish author of all time.”

“Oh! Um…Don Quixote, right?”

Cascade cast her eyes upwards as if seeking patience from a divine force. “You’re the vice president of the opera club.”

“A position I was blackmailed into!”

“Why do I hang out with you again?”

“Because you love me,” I said.

We finally managed to move into the crowd. Cascade held her laptop bag against her chest. “I could ask Zara if she wants to come,” she said.

“So I can be the awkward third wheel during spring break?” I asked.

Cascade wrinkled her nose. “We’ll match you up with someone.”

“Right. Men are just beating down doors to date me. I need a cane to beat them off with.”

Cascade sighed. “Nick, I—”

“It’s a joke,” I replied. “If you like Zara and she likes you, please, invite her along. It’ll be fun. I’ll get to waltz around town with two very attractive women.”

“Neither of whom are attracted to you.”

“That’s even better. No commitment. I just get to make everyone around me wildly jealous.”

We’d headed towards the parking lot, which was built on top of a truly impressive hill; it was practically a mountain considering we were in south Alabama.

Cascade put her laptop in the back and hopped into the driver’s seat. While she started the car, I double-checked to make sure the heat vents were pointed right at me. My feeble, Southern body wasn’t made for below-freezing temperatures. I could only imagine how much colder it would be in New York. At fifty degrees, I just wanted to curl up in bed all day, preferably with a fluffy cat. If Cascade hadn’t been so horrifically allergic to everything with fur, I’d already have one.

With Mardi Gras over, traffic had significantly improved. That, and Cascade was a far braver driver than me. I didn’t go so much as five miles over the speed limit. Cascade drove like she owned the roads, which was sort of funny because Alex drove the same way. Of course, he probably hadn’t looked as impressive doing it in a Nissan Versa.

Just as the heat reached a good temperature, we arrived at the apartment.

“Can’t I just live in your car? Keep it running, bring me a blanket, and I’ll just snuggle up right here in the front seat.”

“Cute,” Cascade said, mercilessly cutting the engine off.

I gave her the most wounded look I could muster and got out of the car. I swore under my breath and rocked back on my heels as I waited for her to unlock the front door. She bent down and picked up a white envelope. “Huh, it’s for you,” she said.

She handed it to me as she fiddled with the keys. It was a simple white bubble envelope with my name and address, but I didn’t recognize the handwriting. “Maybe Mom?” I said. “She didn’t say she sent me anything.”

The door opened, releasing a warm rush of air. I hurried in gratefully, turning the envelope over in my hands.

“Well, cut her open,” Cascade said.

It was always impossible to find scissors in our apartment, so I went for the steak knives. I could see Cascade die a little inside as I plunged the knife into the top of the envelope and tore it open. If it’d been her, she’d have spent all evening hunting for scissors or a proper box cutter.

I pulled out a thin plastic object, round and dark blue, with white dots that indicated stars and constellations.

“Someone sent you a star chart?” Cascade asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “It’s a planisphere. You can turn it to adjust the time of year and night to the direction you’ll be facing. It’s so you can find constellations, stars, planets. Things like that.”

There was a piece of fluorescent tape covering ten o’clock at night for the next day. I hummed and eyed the exposed constellations—Orion and Gemini. “I’m going to assume I’m supposed to look east at ten o’clock tomorrow,” I said.

“Sounds either very romantic or like a set-up by some serial killer.”

“I hope it’s the former.”

I flipped the planisphere over and found a map scribbled on it with a pair of coordinates, sloppily attached with Scotch tape. “It looks like they want me to pull over in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere around Robertsdale, Alabama.”

“So not only is it ten o’clock at night, it’s ten o’clock at night in the woodiest place around. This sounds like the set-up for a horror movie,” Cascade said.

“Yeah, it kind of does.”

“But you’re going to go, obviously.”

“Well, to be fair, I doubt there are any serial killers who’d put this much effort into finding me. It’s a little elaborate.”

I didn’t dare say it, but my heartbeat quickened at the thought that this might be Alex’s doing. Obviously, he wouldn’t want to murder me in the woods, which meant this indicated something romantic. At least, I hoped it was him. It would make sense for it to be him.

“Great,” Cascade said. “I’m willing to risk life and limb for you. I’ll come, too.”

We shared a smile. “I don’t want to jinx it,” I said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Cascade replied. “I really think this might work out for you.”

* * *

Robertsdale wasn’t exactly up the road. Getting there took two hours, although this was partly because neither Cascade nor I had ever been to Robertsdale before. It was a strange place—very woodsy and country—compared to Mobile, the thriving port-city.

Finally, we arrived. It was in the middle of nowhere, but GPS decreed this was the place. Cascade edged her car off the road and onto the grass. I could understand why someone would want to look at the stars here. It was dark and far from town, so even the faintest stars shone like diamonds. “Oh, wow,” I said.

“It is pretty,” Cascade said. “See anyone, though?”

No, not aside from us.

“We are early,” I said. “It’s nine-thirty.”

“So if this is a serial killer, we beat them here?” Cascade asked with a laugh.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Being in the dark in the middle of nowhere was far from the most comforting situation, but at least Cascade was here with me. She might have a good chance of warding off a serial killer with her powers if she really had to, and if not, she had the steel to run a man down with her car if the need arose. At least, it seemed to me that she did. I doubted I’d ever be able to pull off such a feat.

Headlights reflected off Cascade’s rearview mirror. I turned, and my heart soared at the familiar sight of Alex’s blue Nissan.

Cascade burst into laughter. “I think we ruined his plan by getting here early,” she said.

Alex pulled up beside us and got out. “Well, there goes my idea of jumping out of the bushes and tackling you to the ground,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re just glad you aren’t a serial killer,” I replied.

Alex grinned. “Nope. Just me. I, uh, thought it would be romantic.” He paused. “Can we—uh—walk for a bit and talk this over? It’s awkward with Cascade here.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Cascade said. “Have fun, boys. I’ll just be here all alone. If you upset him, Alex—”

“You’ll have to kill me. I understand.”

I’d already left the car to join him. We began walking through the grass, damp with frost and chilled by the wind. Alex wanted to talk. My heart beat so loudly in my chest that I heard it thumping in my head. This had to mean something. If it didn’t, Alex would’ve just called me. He wouldn’t have bothered with this whole thing. Right?

“I…um, promised we’d do nerd-stuff,” Alex said. “I figured looking at the stars would work. Do you like it?”

My insides felt like they were being frayed into small pieces.

“Yeah, it’s very nice,” I replied. “Heartfelt, even.”

Because what more was I supposed to say? I glanced askance at him, trying to judge his reaction.

“I didn’t blame you,” Alex said suddenly. “Did you realize that, or…?”

“Yeah, of course. You were just upset. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Okay. Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was silent here, save for the wind. For a fleeting second, I thought of screaming and running back to Cascade’s car. That was a completely illogical reaction to the situation, but it still sounded like a decent idea to my mind. Of course, Alex could easily overtake me. I wondered if he would, though. If I ran away screaming and asked Cascade to go, would he try to stop me or stare dumbfounded after me?

“Look, Nick. I feel like I need to own up to something. It’s been bothering me the way we sort of—you know—ended things.”

“Yeah. How did your packmates take that?”

“They weren’t exactly happy about it,” Alex said. “Most of them just chalked it up to another one of my wild schemes, though. I’m pretty good at coming up with those, you know. I’ve had practice. This was, however, the first time I’d tried a fake boyfriend. I think a few of them were disappointed.”

“They’ll let you make it up to them, though,” I offered.

“I don’t mean that they were disappointed in me. I mean, they were, but they were also disappointed that you weren’t really my boyfriend. Ben and Zara really liked you.”

My mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Oh?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I got to thinking. We really did have fun together, didn’t we? Did you have fun?” Alex asked.

Was this really going where I thought it was?

“I had so much fun,” I said. “I…I wondered if…”

Alex paused and hesitantly patted my shoulder. “Look. I’m not very good at this emotional stuff. Well, I am when it’s about me, but how receptive would you be to me kissing you?”

“I think you should,” I said.

Alex’s hand found the small of my back, and he pulled me flush against him. I snorted and tried to hide my laughter.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was just such a romance novel cliché that I couldn’t help it.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but he kissed me all the same. His lips were warm and chapped with the sad touch of winter and he smelled of cinnamon and cloves. I tilted my head and kissed him back in earnest. It’d been months since I’d done this with anyone. When he finally drew back, he still held me close against him. He was very warm, and if I wanted, I could easily reach those abs I knew to be so impressive.

“I’ve rendered you speechless,” Alex said. “I guess miracles do happen, after all.”

“I’ll never talk again if you’re going to do that to me every day,” I said.

“I think I’d miss your mouth,” he replied. “Part of your charm is that you’ve always got a comeback for something.”

My face warmed. “Are we going to do this, then?” I asked. “Are we dating for real this time?”

“Is that what you want?”

I nodded, still too afraid to voice my thoughts aloud. It was an irrational feeling. Alex clearly liked me, or he wouldn’t have kissed me. Yet some soft-spoken part of me couldn’t believe this had happened so easily. He really wanted me the same way I wanted him.

“Then, we’ll do it. I like you, and I think I can make you happy. I know you’ll make me happy. Plus, I don’t whinny like a horse.”

“God, don’t bring up Brian,” I said. “The two of you aren’t even playing the same game.”

Alex ran his thumb over my jaw. I closed my eyes and leaned into him. “I should hope not,” Alex said. “Come on. Let’s get back to Cascade.”

“Right.”

I was fine with that because his hand stayed on my back as we returned to the car. “Of course,” Alex said. “We’ll need to think up a much more romantic reunion than this. You ruined my plan, so that’s only fair.”

“You only just got found out for lying,” I pointed out.

“Okay, but that was a big, ill-thought-out lie,” Alex said. “Only little, reasonable lies from now on. Like, maybe we say you arrived after me.”

“That’s fine,” I said.

“Perfect!” Alex exclaimed. “Unfortunately, it turned out to be—”

I climbed into Cascade’s car and tried my best not to crack a smile. “No,” I said.

Alex leaned against the door. “Ugh, fine. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. As long as I get to be your boyfriend, I win. I’ll pick you up for archery?”

I smiled at him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”