I turn, expecting a bear because, of course, that’d be my luck while drunk on my birthday. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark, and it’s Jack, sitting in a camping chair, phone in hand. I expect him to stand up and brush past me, to leave me alone under the blinking fluorescent light, but he doesn’t.

“Sorry. I just needed some air.”

“You looked like you were having fun in there,” he says.

“You too.”

He snorts. “Not really my scene.”

“What about that girl?”

“Who?” He crinkles his brows. “Oh. Her? She’s in my creative writing class.”

I mosey over to one of the empty camping chairs and plop down.

He’s tapping at his phone screen.

“I’m sorry about showing Rae your writing. I—”

“It’s fine.” His face isn’t peppered with a smile or a promise of something else.

“It’s not, though. I shouldn’t have broken your trust like that. I was just—” It feels like one of those “do or die” moments, where I take a chance and tell him how I feel to see if maybe he feels the same way about me.

“Just what?” he asks softly.

My palms are sweaty, and my mind whirrs trying to find The Perfect Thing to say.

“Forget it,” he says, rising to his feet. “I’m heading back to campus.”

He makes it to the edge of the road when my feet kick into gear, and I run after him.

“Go back to the party, Chase,” he says coldly.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” I ask, grabbing hold of him. “I said I was sorry.”

He’s breathing rapidly, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. Moonlight shines softly on his pale face, and I can see just how wet and cloudy his eyes are.

“Talk to me,” I ask gently.

“I need to sit.” He squats on the curb and brings his knees to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” I ask again.

“Everything,” he confesses. He’s shaking, and I inch closer, wanting desperately to wrap my arm around him and pull him into me, to protect him from whatever he’s going through, even if that thing is me.

His foot tentatively slides across the concrete and meets mine, lingering for a brief second, but retracts quickly, as if it were probing new territory and found something scary.

I don’t want to play these games anymore.

I move closer until our bare legs rest gently against each other. The soft hairs on his leg send jolts of electricity up both of our bodies. He shivers and tenses up, and I think he’s going to move it away, but then he presses his leg into mine deliberately. He leans closer, and I’m drawn to his lips like a powerful magnet.

I hold my breath, afraid to move, to break the connection.