I laugh.

“And I didn’t get any of Mrs. Dawson’s pumpkin pie. She usually sends a couple dozen to the team for our Thanksgiving game. Did she not make any this year?” His eyes glint with mischief, and I send a quick glance Jace’s way.

He sighs, looking resigned. “She made pecan this year. Vivienne doesn’t like pumpkin.”

I look at Jace in surprise. “Wait, that’s why we didn’t have pumpkin pie?” I don’t bother waiting for a response. “How did you even know I don’t like pumpkin?”

“You told me,” Jace replies simply. I think back, surprised to realize he’s right, and even more surprised he remembered the offhand comment.

Anderson looks amused by our exchange. “Well, we’ll leave you two to start covering each other’s favorite movies,” he quips before heading toward the food line. The other players follow him after giving Jace fist bumps and me curious glances.

We emerge back outside. The peaceful night air is a relief after the crowded and noisy dining hall.

“Do you want to spend the night?” Jace asks abruptly as we walk along the paved path. I can’t see his face very well in the shadowy light.

I experience an exhilarating mix of excitement and nervousness at his question, but my response is immediate. “Sure.”

Philip and Thomas are arriving back on campus early tomorrow morning. I’m eager to take full advantage of my time removed from their watchful presence to pretend I’m an ordinary girl for just a little while longer.

Jace takes my hand again as we walk side by side through to the parking lot to his truck. I shift uncomfortably as I settle on the leather seat, my body protesting the position after the many hours I’ve already spent sitting here today.

It only takes a few minutes before we pull up outside the blue house. The front porch light is on, but the rest of the house is dark. I follow Jace up the brick path, thinking of how much has changed since the last time I spent the night here.

Jace unlocks the front door and pushes it open, gesturing for me to enter first. He flicks on the lights, revealing the scuffed floors and furniture that were hidden by the couple hundred people crammed inside before. I walk toward the staircase, looking around with interest.

“Want me to carry you again?” Jace asks, coming to stand next to me after he closes the door.

“I think I can manage,” I reply, ascending the wooden staircase.

The stairs creak with each step until I reach the top and walk down the hall to Jace’s room. The door is slightly ajar. I push it open fully and flick on the light switch.

Familiar surroundings appear as I lower my backpack to the ground next to Jace’s desk. Jace tosses his practice bag down next to it and turns the light on his dresser on as well. He opens the top drawer, pulls out a black t-shirt, and holds out to me.