The rest of the weekend flies by with a suffocating level of awkwardness and avoidance. If it weren’t for the subtle changes in Stone’s body language—the way he tenses when we’re near each other, or how his hands are either firmly in his pockets or in tight fists around me—I wouldn’t even know if he remembers the kiss or not, because we simply have not uttered a single word about it.

The next morning when I woke up hungover as shit, we met in the lobby for the convention, then spent the entire day in seminars. He isn’t acting any different—which I guess I should be thankful for—but instead, the heaviness in my chest and the gravel sitting low in my stomach are incessant as I replay Friday night. That kiss… that kiss was everything. The mere thought that Stone may not remember, or is pretending not to, leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat.

We’re on our way back to Pullman now. We’ve been on the road for about an hour, the sun is blinding, and neither of us are talking. The music is turned up, filling the uncomfortable void, one that didn’t exist during the car ride up. I’m about to open my mouth and confront this mess we’ve found ourselves in, when a song comes on that causes me to laugh.

I turn my body in the seat to face him. “Whitney Houston… really?”

“Hey, don’t hate on it. It’s catchy, okay?”

He turns up the volume on I Wanna Dance with Somebody, shocking the hell out of me when he starts singing along. I’ll give it to him… it is catchy. His thumbs are drumming on the steering wheel, he’s belting out the pop lyrics, and the smile on my face is so wide, I can’t help it.

Stone is such a serious man, especially in the classroom. Seeing him let go, be free, and sing along to a ridiculous song is kind of incredible.

Three minutes come and go, the song ends, and we settle back into the conversation free car ride. We pull up outside the frat house a little after noon, and the tension is suffocating. This cannot go on. We have months before graduation and I’m his aide… we need to talk about this.

Taking off my seatbelt, I turn my attention toward Stone, who’s staring straight ahead. “Are we going to talk about what happened or…?”