My cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“I realized after I saw you Monday I didn’t have your number,” Jack continues, not missing a beat. “I waited here for you to show up so we could go to dinner.”

I bury my face in my hands. “Fuck. Sorry. I went to the Garden Dining Hall and waited for you there. For a while. When I didn’t see you, I figured you forgot, or I don’t know. Clearly, I suck.”

“Yeah, you do.” He winks.

Jesus, take the wheel.

“So what’s up?”

“Two things.” I hand him two books I carried with me under my arm. “Thought you’d like these”

As he studies the covers of Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X and Dean Atta’s The Black Flamingo, I continue, “I really loved them. And I’m not a big poetry person, but I thought of you. They’re gorgeous.”

Jack opens the cover of The Black Flamingo and reads the first two pages, leaving me in silence to study his face: the way his forehead creases and his smile twitches, his pupils dilating. When he looks up, his eyes are wet.

“Thank you,” he says, like I just gave him the greatest gift on planet Earth.

My chest pangs with a longing to reach out for him.

“Wanna grab dinner with me?” Jack asks. “Rhett’s not around. I think he’s wooing some girl he met, and I haven’t really connected with anybody else, so I’m on my own tonight. I’d rather not spend another night FaceTiming Callum as he plays Fortnite. I think he’s sick of me.” He laughs nervously as he goes on about his best friend from back home.

My first thought: Poor Benny. My second thought: “I have an idea.” I point toward his Years & Years poster. “Wanna go to a free show at Laurene tonight?”

“You kidding? They’re my favorite band.” He hops to his feet and does an adorable little jig, the way a child might at a toy store.

“My roommate Benny and I are meeting my best friend who goes to Laurene.”

“Eggs Benny?” Jack looks to Rhett’s empty side of the room like he’s piecing together a puzzle.

“Did you know Benny and Rhett went to high school together?”

“Yeah, I’ve, um, seen him around. Small world.” He knows something.

“Yep.” I do my best not to let on. “He’s in the hall now. He’s not, uh, really a fan of Rhett at the moment. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jack says. “Rhett Febrezes my side of the room every morning. Sometimes I wake up to a cloud of linen-scented chemical dust floating onto my face.”

“Shut up.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “No joke. He hovers over me like a serial killer. He’s got wild eyes, that one. He definitely hates me.” Jack grabs a black tee and throws it over his head. “How do I look?”

Fucking beautiful, I think, but say, “Good.”

“Let’s go!” he says, throwing open the door and bumping headfirst into Benny.

“It’s about time!” he shouts, looking over Jack’s shoulders into his room for Rhett.