I expect some sort of cocky response, but Jace replies, “Not likely.” His tone has shifted from nostalgic to solemn.

He doesn’t elaborate further.

“So…are you dressing up as a race car driver this year?” I ask, trying to return to the easy conversation we were having before. “Revitalize an old classic?”

“I haven’t dressed up as a race car driver since high school,” Jace replies. “We always have a game Halloween weekend.”

“You dressed up as a race car driver starting when you were six all the way through high school?”

“It was a crowd pleaser.” Jace winks.

“You mean girls liked it?” I roll my eyes, and Jace’s smirk answers for him. Something tells me Jace could have dressed up as just about anything and still have been wearing the most coveted costume, but I keep that thought to myself.

We near the main entrance to the campus. The large stone sign that marks it also has a line of pumpkins displayed across it, this time uncarved.

“Pretty sure those are the ones they use to make the pumpkin bars in the dining hall,” Jace tells me.

“Pumpkin bars?” I scrunch up my nose in distaste.

“You don’t like pumpkin?”

“I’ve never seen the appeal of squash,” I reply. “Your informant didn’t find that tidbit out about me, either?”

“You could have just told me where you were from last time.”

He’s right, and I’m not sure why I was so reluctant to answer his questions. I’ve had no trouble sharing my fake background with Katie or anyone else here. I don’t respond to his statement, and we run in silence for a while.

“How come you’re so anti-football?” Jace suddenly asks.

“Who said I’m anti-football?”

“You’ve made some sort of disdainful comment about it every time I’ve talked to you,” he replies.

“I didn’t even know you played football the first time we spoke,” I argue. “And if I’ve made a ‘disdainful comment’ it’s been about how conceited and arrogant you are because you’re a big football star,” I add. “That has nothing to do with football. I’d be just as judgmental if you acted the way you do because you won a pool tournament.”

Jace rolls his eyes. The end of the trail appears, indicating we’re almost back to Kennedy Hall.

“This is me.” I nod to the assortment of dorm buildings just visible down the path. “I’ll see you around, maybe.”

I turn to start running back onto the central campus, but I’m stopped by the feel of Jace’s warm skin against my own. Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I fight to keep my expression neutral as I turn back to him and raise an eyebrow expectantly.

“I want to show you something,” is all he says.

I stare at him for a moment, confused. This is the first mostly cordial encounter we’ve managed, and he wants to extend our time together?

“Okay.” To my surprise, I find myself agreeing.

Jace nods, then lets go of my arm and continues jogging, this time heading straight toward the heart of campus. It’s entirely abandoned at this hour. The only signs of life are the squirrels rummaging through the metal trash cans.