Page 101 of Undone

I knew she hadn’t gone far. I found her in the art room, popping her hearing aid out and into my pocket, before we returned to the dance floor. Bloody-knuckled hands on soft fabric, her feet on top of mine, as we danced slow to Death Cab for Cutie’s “I Will Follow You into the Dark.”

We didn’t have a group of friends, the two loners in the corner, so I’d taken a photo of just her, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. When everything happened, I couldn’t make myself delete it—or any of the photos, so I saved them all somewhere private.

But now, it feels right, having it there again.

“I’m not making fun, Lil,” I whisper, head tilting as I look at her again. “It was a good memory. I like the picture.”

Lily chews on her lip, considering me. She’s in lounge pants and a tight long sleeve, no bra, her mouthwatering tits staring at me. But I can’t get sidetracked . . . that’s how yesterday’s study session got derailed. I ate Lily out for two hours before she crashed. My tongue still felt sore, like I’d been doing goddamn push-ups on her clit.

“Maybe you can take a different one. Of us both, this time.” The entire sentence comes from her mouth with her eyes still downcast, a blush high on her cheeks, spreading down her neck.

“Yeah?” The grin pulls at my cheek, dangerous bliss riotous in my heart. “C’mere, doll.”

It takes several attempts to get her approval, but in the end, I’m left with a selfie of Lily smiling softly at the camera, and my teeth pressed to her cheek as I jokingly bite her.

She has a soft, pleased smile the rest of the evening, stealing glances over her shoulder whenever I pick up my phone to check the time or a text from Holden. We continue working then, her doing the math practice tests I made for her to review with, as I work on my thesis.

“What is that?” Lily asks, leaning to peek over at my paper.

Scratching at the back of my neck, I say, “My capstone project. It’s, uh, . . . a Markov chain model of shot sequences and goal scoring. For hockey.”

Lily’s brow furrows as she scans the page, full of data and borderline unintelligible scribbles from running differential equations in MATLAB. I can only imagine how much it looks like gibberish to her.

“It’s for my math major. To graduate. You get to pick your topics, and I chose hockey. Actually, I’ve been using the guys on my line to help get some of my data.”

Lily’s face burns with a blush as she looks up at me, eyes dilated. “You’re a genius, huh.”

I laugh and shake my head, but I can feel the heat across the tips of my ears as I turn back, elbowing her to focus on her papers again.

My phone buzzes with another text where it rests between us—Holden, again, inviting me out for the night, I’m sure. Between that and adding me to a group chat every few seconds, he practically lives in my notifications.

“Is he texting you about the . . . you know?” She whispers the words like a code.

A smirk pulls at my lips. “About watching me make you come in our hotel room? No, probably not.”

Her face matches her red hair as she frowns at me.

“Do you wish he would?”

Lily’s mouth opens again, like she might say something snarky—and if she does, I know I won’t be able to resist tackling her into her unmade bed. But instead, she hesitates, before asking, “Have you . . . has that happened before? You and him with a girl?”

The urge to tease disappears entirely under the clear insecurity of her question.

“No, Lil,” I say earnestly. “Just you.”

“You and me.”

“Yeah.” I smile and press a kiss to her forehead, before refocusing on my equations.

She doesn’t stay focused for longer than a minute. “Are you two . . . have you always been, like, that close?” Lily asks, though her eyes stay on her paper this time, pencil tapping at her lips as she pretends to focus.

The question makes me pause on my work and think.

How did Holden and I become friends? I can barely remember. He’d never been openly cruel to me, or angry even. From the first day I joined, he tried a smile, introducing himself when the others didn’t. Making an effort to sit with me on the bus or at mandatory team dinners. Always around. Even when I pushed him away . . .

“He just never stopped showing up,” I say, tucking a few black hairs back behind my ear, biting my lip. “He’s my friend now. I trust him. And surprisingly, I like him.”

“Yeah?” She laughs. “Me too.”