Page 28 of Embrace

Dylan moves to my desk and sits in the chair, fiddling with my textbook and staring at the framed picture of all of us at the last Frozen Four.

“You’re really taking this graduation thing seriously, huh?” he says. “Your dad would be proud.”

There’s something heavy weighing on my throat. “I hope so.”

Dylan doesn’t say it, but he knows. He can probably read it on my face. “I never apologized to you. That night was—” He pauses. “I fucked up, and I feel like shit that I left the team like this.”

“I know. But Coach will get you back in. He has to.” That’s getting harder to believe, but I have to.

He nods, and there’s that look in his eyes. It’s the same one he had earlier, when we were discussing what to do to Yale’s mascot for our yearly prank ritual. Detached.

I grab my gym stuff and my laptop to follow him out of my room.

“What’s the explanation for that depressing-ass vinyl?” he asks as we descend the steps.

“The weather,” I mutter, staring at the dust collecting on the banister. We pass by the living room, where the guys are still playing NHL.

“Where are you headed?” Cole asks.

“Gym,” Dylan responds.

“I’m in,” Aiden says, and the guys follow.

“You’re injured. Summer’s going to kill us if she finds out we dragged you to the gym.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “She’s got class for two more hours, and I need something to fill the time.”

I can barely hold back a smile. The guy’s so in love, I’m convinced he’s been plotting ways to sneak into all her classes just so he doesn’t have to suffer through the hours of waiting for her to come home. There’s a warmth there that reminds me of brown eyes and soft hands on mine in the grass.

He opens the front door to the pouring rain and a single rumble of thunder. The gloomy sky casts a dark shadow over us as we head out. Dylan scoffs. “I bet Dale Thunderman couldn’t predict that.”

“The weatherman?”

He glances at me. “You know him?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Dylan shoves me to the other side of the car.

Ten

Scarlett

After my disasterdate, I’ve had a craving for six-second hugs.

Can a hug alter your brain chemistry? Because there’s gotta be some sick voodoo going on with those hugs Kian goes around giving people.

All week I’ve tried to push Kian out of my head, but I couldn’t, not after he opened up to me about his mom and sister. And then yesterday, some guy I didn’t know stopped me in the quad. For a second I panicked, sure he recognized me from stumbling out of a house-party bathroom with someone. But instead, he just asked if I knew when myfriendKian Ishida’s next party would be.

I’ve been in a great mood since then.

I walk straight to the library for my tutoring session with Kian. When I enter, a chatter I’ve never heard in the building hits my ears. The library’s supposed to be quiet, with people buried in their textbooks, half asleep over laptops, and whispering when they talk. And it is. For everyone else.

Then there’s Kian.

He’s wearing a baseball cap and some comic book panel T-shirt I’ve seen him in before. He’s sitting at the far table near thewindows, sunlight cutting across his shoulders, his foot bouncing under the desk like he’s been injected with caffeine. His laptop’s open, but judging by the way he keeps spinning a pencil between his fingers and talking to a guy one table over, he’s not getting anything done.

“The entire crease opened up. It was a shoo-in,” Kian says.