The very next day she’d asked me for his phone number. “I had a question about which dry cleaner to use. He said to ask him anything.”

“I’d be stunned if Dylan ever had anything dry cleaned,” I’d said. But I gave her the number, anyway.

Big mistake.

The following week she didn’t come home at all on two different nights. At first I thought this was a terrific development. I loved having our suite to myself. But then, just as I was crossing the center of campus and congratulating myself on figuring out a shortcut to the math department, I’d seen them. Kaitlyn had been standing under a tree with Dylan. And then he’d leaned in and kissed her.

No—that isn’t even an accurate description. He practically devoured her right there between classes in broad daylight. I’ve never walked away from anything faster in my life.

Three weeks later, and I’m still not over it. I already knew Dylan had a lot of sex. His twin sister refers to him as “the family slut.” There are always girls from his high school class hanging around the Shipley farm, riding shotgun in his truck. I’m always jealous of those girls.

But Kaitlyn? Just the idea of her with Dylan makes me insane. It doesn’t matter if I express that aloud, either. Kaitlyn is almost certainly at Dylan’s house right now. If it turns out that he spent our tutoring hours with her instead of me, that will sting.

But Dylan will make it up to me. He really is a good friend.

“Let me know how it goes,” Leah says. “I’d better go and put Maeve to bed. I can hear her begging Isaac for another story.”

“Kiss her goodnight for me,” I say. “I’ll call you about the weekend. I’ll let you know if we need to use the kitchen Saturday night.”

“Have fun tonight, Chass. Just be—”

“—careful. I know, Leah. I will.”

We hang up. I give myself one more glance in the mirror, then I grab my backpack and leave the little suite behind.

I hurry down two flights of stairs, heading for the dormitory exit. It’s already dark outside, and I can see my reflection in the glass door. My backpack strap has tugged the silk blouse aside, revealing a tiny glimpse of my bra.

I stop suddenly to fix it, and that’s when somebody plows into my back.

We let out twin shrieks.

“Sorry!” I yelp, turning around.

“No, that was totally my fault,” the other girl babbles. Her name is Ellie, I think. We’re in the same English class. She holds the door open for me. “Your outfit looks fine, by the way. Stop fussing with that collar.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Going on a date? Kinda fancy for a Wednesday night.” We’re heading in the same direction down the sidewalk. “I’m going to the library, because I’m fun like that.”

“Oh, I already spent four hours there,” I assure her. I don’t tell her that I spent all that time waiting for Dylan Shipley to show up for tutoring. “I’m going to a party off campus.”