I chuckle and flip away from him, onto my side. “Sweet dreams.”

I feel the bed shift as he rolls back toward me. Knowing he’s right behind me is bittersweet torture, but soon, his breathing gets heavy, and eventually, mine does too.

The next morning, something is tickling my face. I smack it away, almost back asleep when it feathers across my cheek again. I crack one eye open and see Adam’s smiling face right in front of mine. His lips are stretched excitedly over his pearly teeth, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He’s crouched next to my side of the bed, looking freshly shaved and showered, his hair still damp. He smells like expensive body wash and a morning cigarette, and I bury my face in the pillow to hide the smile threatening to reveal how girly he makes me feel.

“Good morning,” he says.

When my cheeks are under control, I turn back to him. “Good morning.”

“You ready?”

“Ready for what?” I ask, hoping the answer doesn’t have anything to do with what he started last night.

Adam stands up to sit on the edge of the bed, practically on top of me. The covers pull tight against my body, and he rests his arm on the opposite side of me. “Studying!”

“Seriously?” I groan. “What time is it?”

“Time to get started!” When I give him a look, he laughs and says, “It’s eight.”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in until . . . I don’t know, noon or something?” Shawn made it sound like Adam was a late-riser, and after Adam threatened to punch me in my nonexistent dick for waking him up yesterday, I’m more than a little surprised to see him up so early.

“Yes, I really should.” He shifts, his hand moving closer, squeezing my hips between his arm and the rest of him. “But there’s no way you’re going to get me to study after the show. No offense, but . . . it’s just not going to happen. So you had better tutor the hell out of me while you have the chance.”

At least he’s being proactive. “Can I at least take a shower?”

“Make it quick,” he says, echoing my sentiment to him yesterday morning. He winks at me. “We have four chapters to get through.”

Adam and I are the only two people awake, so when I enter the hallway, I try to be as quiet as possible. I tiptoe between the bunks, but Adam makes an intentional racket, smacking at arms and legs that are hanging out of covers. He hops in bed with Shawn, snuggling his arm around him and saying “Oh SHAWN!” in a girl’s voice. I giggle at them as I quicken my step to get to the shower before all hell breaks loose. Is it possible to beat someone to death with pillows and blankets? Because I’m pretty sure Adam is about to find out . . .

When I step into the shower, the bathroom is still hot with steam and the scent of Adam’s body wash is still permeating the air. It smells like midnight—like loud music, hazy vision, and laser lights. Showering in here with him all around me feels kind of strange and . . . intimate. Brady’s body wash never flooded the room like Adam’s does.

I wash up quickly and dress in red leggings, a long black top, and my black sandals. Then I put on a little makeup—not too much—before sliding my glasses on. I’m pulling my wet hair up into a messy bun when I walk from the bathroom and spot Adam and Shawn sitting at one of the bench-seat tables. Shawn is sipping a coffee, scrolling through his phone, and Adam is scribbling in a pocket-sized notebook that I’ve seen him jotting in a few times throughout the trip. When he hears me, his eyes lift and he smiles. “That was not quick.”

“That was so quick!” I argue.

“I don’t know,” Shawn teases. “Adam is kind of an authority on quick.”

Adam doesn’t miss a beat. “Did your mom tell you that?”

“Oooh!” I say, sitting down next to Adam and smiling widely at Shawn, who laughs and shakes his head at us as he goes back to scrolling through his phone.

I grab our French textbook from the table and slide it in front of me, asking Adam if he remembers what page we stopped on, but then his hand is commandeering the book and pulling it back his way. “Not here,” he says.

“Huh?”

“We’re going out.”

O . . . kay. “Where to?”

Adam stands up, looking down at me. “Not sure yet.” He starts walking toward the door to the bus, and I glance at Shawn, who is texting with one hand and sipping his coffee with the other. His short black hair is a mess, and it looks like he slept in the same clothes he wore last night and hasn’t bothered changing into clean ones yet.

“You coming?” I ask him.

He looks from me to Adam and shakes his head. “Nope.” When his eyes fall back to me, he gives me a wink that Adam doesn’t see, and I know it was meant for Peach. With a quirky grin on his face, he tells me to have fun, and then he goes back to doing whatever it is he’s doing.

I follow Adam off the bus and to his car. “So seriously, where are we going?”

He shrugs. “I seriously don’t know.”

I climb into the passenger seat a second before the engine roars to life. Adam’s arm stretches behind my headrest as he backs out of the spot, and then we’re pulling onto the main drag through town. “How are we supposed to get where we’re going if you have no idea where you want to go?”

He chuckles and randomly turns right. “We’ll manage. Stop worrying.”

“Well, what are we trying to find?”