“Was there a fire at the argyle factory?” I asked, nodding at his clothes, and hoping that didn’t come out too mean. I wasn’t sure if snarkiness was something we could still do, or if it came off as too flirty now.

David frowned at me, brow wrinkling before understanding dawned. “Oh, right. Yeah, I, uh, threw something on this morning.”

I was probably reading too much into David’s wardrobe. We all had days when fashion seemed beyond us, right? Surely his dull clothing didn’t mean he was... bummed or anything. Why should he be? He was the one who had done the dumping, not me.

There was a sudden stinging in my eyes that I blinked away, turning to study the calendar on my desk like it was the most important thing in the history of creation. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you leave the book with me? I want to read a little bit more.”

I’d been aiming for “breezy,” but my voice was so tight it sounded like I was choking.

And then I felt a warm weight on my elbow. Glancing down, I saw David’s fingers curled there against my skin, and I let out a slow breath.

“Pres,” he said, his voice every bit as tight, and I turned to look at him.

His eyes were very blue, and the freckles across his nose stood out against his paler-than-normal skin, and all I wanted to do was tuck myself against his chest and breathe in that familiar smell of soap and printer ink that David carried on him.

Then I shook myself. No. He had called things off, and a girl had to have some pride.

I stepped back so that his hand fell from my elbow and folded my arms across my chest. “Thanks for your help,” I said again, and this time, there was no choking feeling in my throat. “But you should probably go now. My parents will be home soon, and they’ll freak if you’re in my room with no one else here.”

“Right,” he said, turning away quickly to grab his bag off the floor. “Good. Well, um. I hope it helps.”

“I’m sure it will,” I told him, forcing a smile.

I picked up the book instead of turning to watch him go. I’d just opened it when my phone buzzed. It was Bee.

“Azalea Festival? When do you wanna come over?” I glanced at the book on my bed, and then at my phone.

“Be there in fifteen.”

•••

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

It was already the third time Bee had asked the question, so for the third time, I gave her the same answer.