He reaches me in two long strides and cups my face in both hands. His soft lips press against mine, and my ears thunder with the hoots and hollers of the locker room. I put everything I have into the kiss. God, I’ve missed him. This is right, and I know exactly who Nathan is. He’s flawed. He’s imperfect. He’s my forever.

“By all means, keep me waiting,” Coach Daniels sounds as much amused as he does angry, but we pull apart.

His teammates crowd around him, giving him shit. He stands up on his toes to look over them. “I’ll call ya later.”

I wait for five minutes outside the locker room, but I can still hear Coach Daniels inside talking about a change in the weightlifting and practice schedule and he doesn’t sound like he’s going to stop any time soon. I text Nathan that I’m going to my dorm, and it’s an hour before he finally texts.

Nathan: Longest after practice talk EVER. I think he dragged it out just to get back at me. I’m so sorry.

Me: Maybe wasn’t the best plan, but I have no regrets.

He sends me the meme of the guy with No Ragrets tattooed on his neck.

Nathan: Totally worth it. I can’t wait to hang out, but can I raincheck until tomorrow? I have something I need to do tonight.

Disappointment deflates my excitement and the build-up to tonight, but I try not to let it show. He knows how I feel and that’s all that matters. We’ve got time.

Me: Of course. See you in class tomorrow. We can go out tomorrow night and celebrate finishing our project. You ready?

Nathan: I will be.

I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be when Nathan and I make our way to the front of the classroom to give our communications presentation. I introduce our product, its current selling features and target audience.

When it’s time to make our pitch and try to sell our pricey pen to our peers, Nathan leans over and whispers, “Roll with it.”

He turns to the class. “Now I know you may be thinking, any old pen is fine. Why would I want to spend seventy dollars on anything when I could use that for alcohol or new kicks?”

The class plays right into his hand and murmurs their agreement.

“Because there are moments in life when any old pen just won’t cut it. You want a pen that writes clearly and most importantly, one that has backup ink in case you run out. Some moments require a guarantee that only a seventy-dollar pen can give you.”