Oh. A person must be standing behind me, holding the hair off my face. But I’m too numb to be surprised. Too utterly wretched to care.

I hate myself. So much. If I could seep into this hard-packed ground, along with the vomit, I would. Then, I wouldn’t have to live with my betrayal.

The person who has a hold of my hair clumsily pulls it into a loose ponytail, securing it with some kind of band. I hear the zipper of a bag being pulled, and a few moments later, a hand shoves a crumpled napkin under my nose.

I take it, wiping my mouth, and turn to thank my helper.

Concern is etched on Bandit’s face, and his broad shoulders nearly block the crisp blue sky.

Perfect. The most obnoxious boy alive just watched me throw up. He held the hair off my face. Stab me now.

I reach for my hair and discover that he’s tied it back with one of his wide terry-cloth sweatbands.

His ponytail-tying abilities could use some work, but the gesture is kinda…sweet.

“Um, gross,” I say to cover up my confusion. “Is this sweatband still damp?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “My sweat can’t possibly be any grosser than your vomit.”

Okay, so he has a point. I’m pretty nauseating—literally. Spying a water hose at the side of the building, I squeeze past him. He turns sideways, but my shoulder still brushes against his chest. He really shouldn’t be so warm. That slight contact really shouldn’t make me shiver.

He’s not my friend. Not my ally. Instead, his labels are much less appealing. The potential secret admirer of my best friend. Someone I’m afraid is wrapped up in the devastating events of the future. I can’t forget those things. Not even for a moment.

I walk over to the faucet and aim the hose into my mouth. After I rinse as well as I can, Bandit hands me a bottle of sanitizer, which I pour into my hands.

“You’re prepared.” I give the sanitizer back. “I’m impressed.”

He grins, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. Never, ever give the cockiest boy in school this kind of ammunition.

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. “You should see my first aid kit. It’s very…thorough.”

My cheeks warm, which might be even more ridiculous than our conversation. Only Bandit could sound arrogant about a box of bandages. “You’re kidding,” I manage to say. “You don’t actually carry around a first aid kit.”

He holds my gaze, steady and unflinching. “Actually, I do.”

“Why?”