Sometimes it felt like all he had were these worries, the ways in which he might disappoint people.

“Oh my God, Jack...”

He squeezed his eyes shut, stretched out and breathed in and let himself drift—

Long, silken hair, silvery against navy sheets. The face he always made, right before he opened his eyes, like he could murder Jack for waking him up. The stretch of pale skin, and the obscene sounds he made as he smelled that first cup of coffee. All of those familiar things altered by adulthood—no more late nights, and calm mornings, starting in on the crossword, maybe, and tossing it aside and reaching down, down, under the covers, and wrapping his hand around—

“Jack Gardner, if you don’t get your ass up in five seconds...”

His phone was shouting at him.

He rolled off the couch in shock and hit the floor with his face. And, um, other things.

Exactly how he liked to wake up. Christ.

And yes, that was Meg snickering through the video screen of his phone, also fallen to the ground next to him, which he had clearly answered rather than turning the hell off.

“Oh, Jack.” She tried to cover her eyes, but kept gawking at him. She was laughing pretty hard now.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he mumbled into the floor, not actually getting up.

“Do you need help or something? Do I need to call the fire department?”

“No,” he sighed, pulled himself into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”

She giggled a bit more, but then her face turned serious, and she looked down. “Jack, I have to tell you—”

He yawned. “What, hon?”

“Look.” She stared up at him, suddenly fierce and a bit defensive. “I know I said I’d be at Towson University—” Oh yeah, that was it. “With their field hockey team, and, well, I was, but I ended up finishing early, and, uh.” It came out in a rush. “I actually slept over with Charlie and...”

His sleepy brain paused, processed, caught up. And he laughed. “Are you trying to confess or something?”

“What? Jack...” He could practically hear her eyes as they rolled up to the ceiling. “No, though you could be a little...something.”

“I’m happy for you.” He gave her a soft smile. “Really.”

“Well then. Not like I did it for you, but...” She gave him a dirty look, and then a fond one. “Anyway. That’s not why I called.” And then she mumbled, “None of your business anyway.”

He felt that heaviness settle back onto him, “True. Why did you call?”

He scratched at the back of his head, trying not to feel awkward. He wondered where this conversation was going and how soon he’d be able to switch on the coffee maker and get the hell away from his ongoing guilt.

“Will spotted me.” She crossed her arms, then in a mumble, “Kissing Charlie.”

“What? You—what? How—” And then oh, right. “Charlie. The headmaster at Gwynns. Of course.”