“Allie!” Damien exclaims, pulling me into a bear hug. I freeze, my mouth falling open as he squeezes me tightly, lips grazing my ear, crushing my books into my chest. I’m too stunned to say anything or step out of his embrace. “Thank God, you’re back.”

“Damien!” Zoe admonishes him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back, allowing me to breathe again. “Slow down. You’re practically a stranger to her right now.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes widen, expression startled. “It’s just so good to see you. After you woke up they didn’t allow us to visit anymore. They said it might overwhelm you.”

I can see why.

“It’s all right,” I say, tucking some hair behind my ear, though my pulse is racing. “I understand.”

“Forgive him,” the other boy says, laughing as he gives his friend a playful shove. “He’s only got about two working brain cells.”

Damien scowls and shoves him back. “Shut up.”

I look to Zoe for help, and she gestures to the taller boy. “James,” she explains, and he winks amicably. “Don’t be fooled, his brain functions at about the same rate as Damien’s.”

“Hey!”

A bell rings overhead, and I’m grateful for something to save me from the rest of this conversation.

“We’ll see you guys at lunch,” she says, inching farther down the hall. “Hopefully you’ll have learned to behave yourselves by then.”

Damien places a hand over his heart and ducks his head. “I’ll be counting down the minutes.”

I stick close to Zoe’s side as we make our way to the English classroom, not wanting anyone else to catch me by surprise.

“Are they always like that?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She pauses. “Damien is so in love with you that it makes him act like a complete idiot, as you just witnessed.”

I already assumed we were romantically involved, but having it confirmed makes me feel worse, especially given the knowledge about my relationship with Parker. It’s somewhat violating to know I’ve been varying degrees of intimate with at least two boys I don’t remember—through no fault of their own—and that I cheated on one with the other.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she offers softly.

My feelings about the situation must be pretty easy to read.

“Thanks.”

We enter the classroom and the room immediately goes silent. Zoe slides into a seat near the front, looking at me apologetically as she flips her poker straight hair over her shoulder.

“We have a seating chart,” she explains, sounding reluctant. “You’re back there.”

“Right,” I say, nodding stiffly before turning to head to the open seat at the back.