His fingers grazed her elbow and trailed down to her hand—the sensation sparking a flood of tactile memories of his arm around her waist, her cheek against his chest, his lips soft and searching against hers. His redwoods scent wafted over them, and more memories rushed to the surface—wind whipping through her hair beside him in his open-top Mercedes, snorts of laughter as he inhaled three Double-Double burgers at In-N-Out, tears wiped from his cheeks the night he told her about his father, ones coating her own the next morning when she woke up hours late for her Stanford interview.

The warmth spreading across her chest turned into a burn, and she shook him off.

“Trust your instincts,” she said.

Gavin’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He held her gaze, his eyes clouding with a look she recognized not just in him but in herself. It kept her feet glued in place. Finally he said, “Dad says to do the opposite. That my instincts are crap.”

“But you used Swift,” spilled out before Lucy could stop it. She didn’t want to make Gavin feel better. But she also didn’t want to make him feel worse.

He tilted his head. “Maybe. But my dad’s instincts had him investing in Pulse before it was even called Pulse.” Gavin tipped his chin, gesturing to the campus. “He thinks it means this is a no-brainer, but ValleyStart and Pulse aren’t the same. Still, I’ll be ‘an embarrassment to the family’ if I don’t win.” He used air quotes just like he had in her dorm room, just like he had in his room in high school—she’d forgotten about that.

“Everyone here’s at the top of their game,” Lucy said, for the first time admitting the thing that frightened her the most since crossing under the arched entrance to the hackathon.

“Which is why I have to act like the best and be the best to get him off my ass.” Gavin slammed the back of his foot into the post. The force reverberated down the arbor, shaking free more odor of cat pee. He then grasped his curls so hard that when he released them they stood on end as if he’d used an entire container of gel.

“Fine,” he muttered half under his breath. “Whatever it takes to win. That’s what he wants, so that’s what I’ll do.”

Lucy wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, himself, his absent father, or all of them. She simply watched as the anger in his steps catapulted him down the path. He continued toward the dorms without looking back. Lucy hugged her arms against her chest, an unease that no longer had anything to do with the beta test billowing inside her.