Page 27 of Left on Read

“I know you,” Dash says, through that gross face.

“Me too,” Gage mumbles.

I don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re freshmen atCampbell, the regular high school, the one I would be at now if I hadn’t gone to Endeavour. They’ve almost definitely never met Hayes before. But it’s a small town, I guess. It’s possible his reputation extends beyond the early college program. They could have friends-of-friends who know him through their older siblings, or something.

“You’re the one who messed with Nova’s car,” Gage clarifies. “Nice.”

Right. I almost managed to forget about that.

“What are you doing hanging out with her?” Dash asks. He’s taunting me, because he’s my little brother and that’s what he does. It’s basically the foundation our relationship is built on.

For the first time, Hayes speaks.

“What do you mean?” He looks at me, smirking with his whole damn face. “I need her help on a midterm. She’s the smartest girl in Hickory.”

I … don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. I can’t trust it, so I won’t.

Once my brain reboots, I wordlessly walk down the hallway to my room, and I assume Hayes follows. My fingers wrap around my door handle, and I open it in a flourish. There’s a rush of air from the open window, and I feel the tranquility this room brings sweep over me like the breeze.

I’ve had boys in my room before. This is not a Moment or anything. That this boy is the person who has annoyed me the most in the world for the past four years is an unimportant detail.

“Wow,” Hayes mumbles, looking around the tiny room. “It’s actually kind of normal in here.”

Offended, I scoff and throw myself into my desk chair. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” He flops into the faded gray beanbag in front of my old red bookshelves. It’s the only other furniture in the room besides my desk and bed—those shelves the color of North Carolina clay. “I either thought it would be almost pathologically spotless or, like, so cluttered you couldn’t move.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. I’ve always done that around him, that combination of motions. They’re evolving, though. Into something softer. Fond, even.

Scary.

“What’s that?” He points to the wall behind my head.

Beside the window, there’s a triptych of pictures, framed in antique shades of wood that match my desk and shelves. And the images? Three printouts, all nearly the same image.

“It’s a scene fromPride and Prejudice.” I turn around, looking at those pictures. “The good version.Pride and Prejudiceis kind of my religion.”

Hayes tilts his head, curls of hair falling over his ears at the motion. It does things to me I can’t explain. “Okay … But how is anyone supposed to know that? They’re just pictures of some guy’s hands.”

I barely contain a gasp. It’s like I walked into his beloved chemistry lab and said his favorite microscope slides were just stillimages of some plant’s gross cells. Maybe that’strue,but that’s not thepoint.

“It’s nothands.It’s amoment.It’s about the tension of that moment. The yearning.”

Hayes smiles at me, not the whole-face smirk or the confident grin but a real, honest smile. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he’s unusually slapdash today: just jeans and a T-shirt, like a regular boy. Bizarre. It’s like he’s academically off duty.

“Nova.” He says my name in a serious tone I’ve never heard him use. “Are you a hopeless romantic?”

“Absolutely not.” I throw one leg over the other, resting all my weight on one hip and one elbow on the arm of my desk chair. I hope I looksuper relaxed. Super chill.“I’m not hopeless.”

There’s another moment of pointed silence. We sort of look at each other for probably way too long.

“Alright, whatever you say.” He looks away from the wall; his eyes drift back to me.

After a few heartbeats of silence, I’m about to suggest we get started on our project when I hear a faint jingle.

“What is that?” Hayes leans back on his beanbag far enough that I think he might roll off into the floor.

“That’s Raven!” My tiny, pure-black cat jumps onto the desk. She’d just emerged from the crack between the closet doors, quietly enough to startle Hayes. That’s why we put a bell on her.