“But dude.” Dallas lowered his voice, giving me a look so probing I felt borderline violated. “What the hell is going on? Have you even made a move on Bailey?”

“Not really,” I said, peeling the label off my bottle. “You and your fucking bookshelf made sure of that.”

His mouth dropped open. “Oh my god.” He guffawed, shoulders shaking. “No wonder you seemed off when we got home. Sorry, man. I didn’t expect you to have company that early in the evening.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered.

“But you’re going to find your balls again and make a move, right?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my beer. “Yup.”

In theory.

“Soon.” He lowered his head and gave me a pointed look.

“Soon.”

But she’d just broken up with Morrison. And what if this feeling was one-sided? Or I scared her off by pushing too soon? Or I went for it and she rejected me?

Was it fear of seeming opportunistic about her breakup with Luke holding me back? Or fear that I’d scare her off if I was flat-out wrong about things? Or was it the fear of rejection? That was something I’d never dealt with before, and it was scarier than I wanted to admit.

Maybe it was all of the above.

* * *

BAILEY

I was having a fantastic day. First, I convinced my astronomy instructor to let me unofficially switch class times, citing unforeseen (and nonexistent) school newspaper conflicts. I would still have to write the final exam with my actual class—including Luke—but Professor Walsh agreed to let me sit in on the Thursday morning lectures instead. I practically danced out of his office. It was like a gigantic meteor had been lifted from my shoulders.

Then Noelle drove Zara and me to our favorite lunch place off campus to enjoy overpriced but delicious chopped salads the size of our heads.

“You didn’t have to buy me lunch,” I said to Zara, and I meant it. Fifteen-dollar salads were hard to justify, but my gigantic chicken Caesar was heaven in a bowl. Somehow, salads always tasted better when someone else made them.

She shrugged, taking a bite of her spicy Thai noodle salad. “It’s the least I could do after you agreed to cover the volleyball game tomorrow night on short notice. Again.”

“I don’t mind.”

Technically, I had plans with Chase. He invited me over for Tyler’s birthday, but he understood when I told him I’d be late. It was an early game at least, so it wouldn’t eat into the night too much.

“You know I would have taken one for the team if I could,” she said. “But no one wants to read a sports article written by me. My knowledge starts and ends with the fact that the ball goes over the net.”