He looks up, and our eyes clash. My cheeks heat like they’re being warmed by the sun over Dallol, Ethiopia, the hottest inhabited place on Earth. This is the first time I’m seeing him since I told him I loved him. Since our text messages. What, exactly, is our status? Certainly not friends, although I have to admit, our last exchange makes me wonder if I misjudged him. And yet, we’re not strangers, either. Not anymore. Not after being paired up in this week’s juiciest gossip.

A pang shoots through me. I was so preoccupied with my humiliation that I forgot to think about his. Has Bandit also been the victim of endless inquiries and crude remarks?

Sadly, he’s used to having his name on people’s lips. Last year, all anyone could talk about was the undivided attention his parents “bought” from the school’s guidance counselor. Before school, during lunch—Bandit was always seen exiting her office, while the rest of us had to wait weeks for a measly five-minute appointment. It paid off, apparently, as Bandit scored a research position at a prestigious lab at MIT.

His popularity might make him immune to the worst of the social ramifications. Still, it’s no fun being the topic of widespread rumors. And here I am, making him go through this particular brand of fresh torture—again.

The least I can do is apologize. I just really, really wish I had any other color on my nails.

Time slows to a crawl as we stare at each other. My skin goes hot and cold, and I’m aware of every nerve, every cell in my body. I have to be, since they’re popping and sizzling all over the place.

And then, out of nowhere, a heavy weight slams into my back, and I stumble.

“Sorry!” a freshman calls as he sprints down the hallway.

Too little, too late. I pitch forward, and Bandit rushes toward me to break my fall. My hands end up splayed on his pecs, on that black flannel he so generously told me about, our lips a few inches apart. For a moment, neither of us breathes.

His chest feels so…solid under my hands. His muscles so…firm. He definitely spends as much time on the basketball court as he does in the science labs.

Get ahold of yourself. This is the most obnoxious boy alive, remember?

Snatching my hands away, I take a deliberate step back. We look at each other for a few confused moments. Then he lifts those straight eyebrows, giving me his bored face. “You know, if you’re trying to get my attention, there are subtler ways of doing it.”

My mouth drops open. “Who said I want your attention?”