“What do you mean? Of course you’ll have a lot of options.”

“My parents have five more kids to put through college. I can’t afford to be picky.”

“You’re exactly what Admissions Offices look for, Cassia.”

“Well, I’m not a student athlete, so there’s that.”

Holden shifts beside me. Clears his throat. “I didn’t mean—”

I cut him off with a laugh. “It’s fine, H.”

He stares at me, clearly shocked. I haven’t called him that since we were kids. Since we were friends.

Now, I’m the one flustered. Thankfully, we stop in front of the hotel a few seconds later. We’re instructed to disembark quickly so the other buses can pull up and unload as well. Activity erupts around us, everyone eager to get off the bus, eat dinner, and get our room assignments. Holden and I are both silent as we follow the other students off the bus.

There are a few side glances and double takes. Our class is around five hundred students. Out of them, I doubt a single one doesn’t know who Holden Adams is. Who he’s friends with. And since at least half of them went to a different middle school, before the new high school was built and districts merged, they’ve never known Holden and I to have any familiarity.

Or maybe I have dried drool on my face. I swipe both cheeks once we’re on the sidewalk, just in case.

Mr. Malone, one of the teachers chaperoning this trip, is waiting, passing out folders with schedules and envelopes with room keys. According to the planned itinerary that was sent out to parents a few weeks ago, we’re supposed to have dinner delivered to our rooms tonight in preparation for an early morning tomorrow.

I see Mark and Finn disembarking from the next bus, along with the rest of the crowd Holden usually hangs around with. They all rode together, and he rode with me.

Because he knew I wouldn’t have anyone to sit with?

Because he feels guilty about how our last conversation ended?

I have no idea, and I can’t ask him without looking pathetic.

“Night,” I say, then follow the stream of students being directed toward the elevators. Once I’m caught up with the group, I risk a glance back.

Holden’s friends have all caught up to him, huddled around as they talk intently. Probably planning how and where to sneak off to tonight.

It’s an important reminder. There might be some familiarity between us, but there’s also a separation. Most of what Holden and I share is history, and it’s supposed to stay in the past.

I don’t look back again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CASSIA

The light above the handle flashes green, and I push the door open. I glance around, pausing when I realize it’s not empty like I expected. “Hey.”