Justin Yoon sat in front of me during Biology. Ms. DuPree talked about molecular genetics, clicking between slides on the projector that we were supposed to be writing notes for. The lights were low and she had her back to the class most of the time. That meant everyone had out their phones.

Mine rested on my thigh under the desk. Liah was on the other side of the room due to an unfortunate seating chart. Ms. Dupree assigned seats based on the color of our shirts on the first day. It was weird, but so was our teacher.

ASK HIM!!!, Liah's message read. 

Class was almost over, and I still hadn't worked up the nerve to say anything to Justin. What if he turned out to be another Dameon? Or scared of my brother like Travis. What if he wasn't interested in me? Rejection would kill me right now.

My leg started bouncing without me noticing, sending my phone falling from my lap, sliding right under Justin's desk. Really? A few people glanced back at the sudden noise. Ms. DuPree stopped teaching. "What was that?"

Justin grabbed my phone from the floor, hiding it. "Calculator fell out my bag."

The woman eyed him. She wasn't buying it. If she took my phone, I wouldn't get it back until after school. I wasn't addicted to my phone, but the idea of it being in someone else's possession made me queasy. What if they figured out my pass code and found the pictures I took of Liah's boyfriend list?

But the teacher simply hmphed and turned back to the projector screen, clicking through to the next slide. I sank into my chair, relieved.

Justin handed my phone back on the low. I immediately made sure the screen wasn't cracked. Thank God it wasn't. "Thanks," I whispered to Justin.

"Yeah," he said over his shoulder.

I caught Liah's eye. Hers were like saucers and I knew she was yelling at me to say something to him.

My stomach was tight with nerves. Whose idea was this again? People always say that the worst thing someone could say is "no", as if that wasn't the absolute most terrifying word in this situation. Being rejected meant there'd be someone walking around knowing I liked them. It meant me walking around knowing that the person didn't like me back. Living with a what if sounded a million times better than living with rejection.

Then the lunch bell rang. I'd never been happier to hear that shrill sound.

• • •

"There's still two guys on the list." Liah and I sat at our usual lunch table, eating our chicken sandwiches and fries.

She'd been trying to cheer me up since we left class. How could I tell her Justin wasn't the problem? It was me. It was easy talking to guys when my sole purpose was to defy Gray, but my brother and I had been talking more lately.

After our conversation about Mom and Hudson, we moved on to other topics. He told me about his roommate, Allister, who snuck a bunny into the room that they named Bugs. Or maybe his roommate was Bugs and the bunny was Allister?

He also mentioned that there was always a party happening somewhere on campus. When I asked if he went to any, he said that Bugs couldn't be left alone. Which was worrisome. Why wasn't he making more of an effort to make friend there? I wanted to ask him why he didn't go out, but was afraid he'd get all defensive like before. We were on good terms at the moment. I didn't want to mess things up.

That also meant the dates were for me. The stakes were higher. Things were getting serious. I couldn't put myself out there when I actually cared about the outcome.

"Please tell me that wasn't your idea of flirting." Corey joined us at the table, sitting next to me.

Something inside my chest jump started. A few days ago, after I told him I'd leave him alone, I thought that'd be the last time we'd talked. He said he was looking forward to no longer talking to me. And, until that moment, we hadn't. Yet there he was.

What he did on Halloween still played on a loop in my head. It was really sweet of him. And, in a strange turn of events, I thought of Corey as a friend.

"You saw that?" I'd forgotten he was in that class, too. Somehow, that made the whole thing even more embarrassing.

"I think she's getting cold feet," Liah quipped before filling her mouth with chicken.

"I'm not!"

"After you begged me to set you up?" Corey said.

"There was no begging. And I don't have cold feet."

"Then why didn't you talk to Justin?" My best friend demanded.

Because I'm a wimp. "We were in class. That would've been inappropriate."

Liah saw straight through my BS. So did Corey. I'm sure the smell of it reached far and wide.

"The next time I see him, I'll talk to him. Happy?"

"Perfect," Corey said. "Because I came over here to let you know that he's in the art room. Alone. Like he is every lunch hour." He dropped that little piece of information, then left. So much for him still wanting to hang out with me.

He totally called my bluff. Liah took another bite of her sandwich and because we were psychically linked, I knew that the smugness in her raised brow said "Your move, Ari.".

I drained my carton of chocolate milk like it was liquor and went to the art room. Mr. Silvera left his classroom open during lunch for anyone to come in and "unwind," as he put it. I used to go there a lot sophomore year, when Liah and I had different lunch blocks.

When I got to the art room, Justin was there, like Corey said he'd be. He sat on a stool in front of an easel. On Liah's color coded Boyfriend List, she highlighted that he liked art. That was the reason Corey added him to the original list. Some common ground between us. Stilling my nerves, I walked into the room, my shoes squeaking against the tile. Justin looked up from the painting he was working on.

"Sorry," I said, pointing to the shelf of clay vases. One of them was mine from first period. It was finished and ready for the kiln, but I could play around with it some more. "I wanted to finish my vase."

His brows lowered at me. "Be real. You're turning into a bong, aren't you?"

I snorted at the randomness of it. "No, I'm not."

Apparently that's what students had tried over the years, because Mr. Silvera was very strict about keeping our projects appropriate. Anything that he deemed inappropriate was thrown out, the student was banned from the activity.

I took my vase from the shelf, getting a cup of water to rehydrate the clay, and sat at one of the long tables behind Justin. Using a small toothpick-like tool, I drew flowers around the vase. So I didn't seem too obvious, I carved five flowers into the vase before asking, "What are you working on?"

He leaned away from the canvas, examining his work, paint brush in hand. "There's an art contest coming up. Nothing fancy, just something at the local library. The theme is Grateful."

From where I sat, it looked like a self portrait. "Is that you?"

He turned to me, holding his chin in the space between his thumb and index finger, and attempting (and succeeding) the smoldering look. "Don't you feel grateful you get to see this?" He barked out a laugh. "It's my dad." He turned back to the painting. "He passed almost ten years ago."

Blood rushed in my ears as he told me about his dad's fatal heart condition, like he spoke about it all the time. How could he be so casual about it? The milk I chugged threatened to come back up. It was suddenly a million degrees. I wanted to rip off my sweater. "That's nice." I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

Justin glanced back at me, brows furrowed, and I realized what I'd said. "No. I mean, the portrait is nice. Not that he's..." The word turned to bile on my tongue.

"Are you okay?" He sounded like he was underwater. Miles away.

I nodded, I think, before heading out the door. It'd been a year and I still felt as sick as I did the day my dad died. We weren't even close. Mom cut him off forever ago. The only memories I had of him were terrible. It was more guilt than grief that knocked the wind out of me.

Once I was outside, the chilly November air calmed me a bit. I hated that. How it came out of nowhere, full force. My dad was a sore topic in my family. We never talked about him, even when he was alive. Now he was a wound that wouldn't heal completely. Every so often, what happened would come back to me. What I said to him right before...

The brick wall of the building was the only thing holding me up at that point. I was thankful the area was deserted. No one needed to witness me losing it over a man who only cared about himself. Except someone was watching. I didn't know where Corey came from. I blinked and suddenly he was in front of me, asking if I was okay, if I needed the nurse.

I just needed to forget again. What happened with my dad needed to be put back in whatever dark corner of my memories it came out of. Corey stood there with me, unmoving. Even after the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. 

His hands weren't on me, but I could feel him all over. His concern was so strong it felt like a hug, a hand squeeze, saying the exact right thing without a single word. Being near him calmed me. Something about that scared me. How did I go from being annoyed by him to being comforted?

A security guard rolled past on their bike, rushing us to get to class. I pulled away from the wall, wiping at my face with my sleeve, even though I didn't shed a single tear. Corey grabbed my backpack from the ground, handing it to me.

He didn't ask what happened. I wasn't sure I could even explain it. One second I was fine, the next I felt empty and full of emotion all at the same time. 

"Thanks." I said it mostly to his shoes. I felt embarrassed and exposed. Looking him in the face would've been too much. I couldn't handle any pity looks. Especially not from him. I preferred his look of mild disinterest.

He nodded and we walked to class. Or maybe I walked to class and he followed me? I didn't know his schedule. But I was glad he was there beside me.