I keep my arms crossed and lips pursed, ignoring the way my heart squeezes at his apology. “What kept you up all night?”
An unexpected pang of jealousy twists at my gut. Was he having an all-night fuck-a-thon with somebody? The image ofFreddie with another girl makes me want to scream or throw up. Or both.
A traitorous part of my brain whispersAshlyn Coleson.Rumors about them hooking up over the summer have been all over campus. I push the thought away, hating how much it bothers me. I have no right to be jealous. We’re nothing to each other. Not anymore.
“It’s Ethan,” Freddie says, his voice thick with worry. “He got accused of plagiarism. We were up all night trying to sort it out.”
My anger dissipates, replaced by a wave of concern. “Ethan? Plagiarism? What happened?”
As Freddie explains, guilt gnaws at me. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own drama, I didn’t even know one of my friends was in trouble.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer, surprising myself with how much I mean it.
Surprise flickers across Freddie’s face, quickly replaced by something softer. Something that makes my heart do a stupid little flip. “Thanks, Alex. I think we’ve got it under control, but I’ll let you know.”
An awkward silence falls, heavy with all the things we’re not saying. I fidget with my pen, suddenly unsure of everything. “How’s Ethan? I mean, aside from the plagiarism thing. I… I miss him. All of you guys, actually.”
The admission hangs in the air between us, fragile and terrifying. I want to take it back, to shove it deep down where all my other inconvenient feelings live. But it’s too late. It’s out there now, a truth I can’t un-tell.
Freddie looks at me, really looks at me, for what feels like the first time in forever. And in that moment, I realize how much I’ve missed this. Missed him.
“He misses you too, Alex. We all do.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I swallow hard, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. It feels like I’m choking on all the words I can’t say, all the feelings I’ve been desperately trying to bury.
“Yeah, well… things change, I guess,” I manage, aiming for nonchalance.
Freddie leans back in his chair, studying me with those hazel eyes that used to make my knees weak.
Still do, if I’m being honest with myself.
Which I’m not.
Obviously.
“They don’t have to, you know,” he says softly. “Change, I mean. Not everything.” He pauses, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. “We could try to be… civil with each other. Friends, even.”
I let out a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed, Freddie. Crashed and burned. Sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”
He shakes his head, a stubborn set to his jaw that I recognize all too well. It’s the look he gets when he’s about to argue a point to death, environmental ethics be damned. “Only if we let it. Look, Alex, I know things have been… complicated between us.”
Complicated. That’s one way to put it. Another would be total fucking disaster, but who’s counting?
“But this project?” he continues. “It’s important. To both of us. Maybe it’s a chance to… I don’t know, start over?”
I stare at him, trying to reconcile this mature, thoughtful Freddie with the guy who broke my heart. The guy who called me childish, who kissed me when we’d both sworn not to blur the lines again. Part of me wants to say yes, to grab onto this olive branch with both hands and never let go. But another part, the part that still stings from our falling out, the part that wakesup in the middle of the night remembering the feel of his lips on mine, holds back.
“I don’t know, Freddie,” I say finally, hating how unsure I sound. Hating how I sound like the Alex I was last year, naive and excited to have the attention of Freddie Donovan. God, I thought I’d grown past this. Evolved. Become a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man to validate her existence.
Turns out, I’m still that girl. Just with better taste in protest signs and a slightly more robust knowledge of environmental law.
He gives me a small, hopeful smile that does stupid things to my insides. “Only one way to find out, right?” Then, in a move that’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid (probably both), he extends his hand. “Hi, I’m Freddie Donovan. Environmental Science major, terrible artist, and occasional superhero to disaster-prone roommates. Nice to meet you.”
Despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips. It’s so ridiculous, so quintessentially Freddie, that I can’t help but play along. “Alexandria Ford,” I say, taking his hand. “Eco-warrior in training, color-coding enthusiast, and apparently, quick to jump to conclusions. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The moment our hands touch, it’s like someone’s set off fireworks under my skin. Electricity crackles up my arm, and I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping out loud.Get it together, Alex. You’ve had sex now. With a couple of guys. You’re not some blushing virgin anymore. You should be able to touch a guy without spontaneously combusting.
But this isn’t just any guy. This is Freddie. The guy who knows exactly how I like my coffee. The guy who can argue environmental policy with me for hours and still make me laugh. The guy who’s seen me at my worst and, somehow, still wants to be my friend.
