Chapter 27
TROY
The engineering building smells like printer ink and despair. It’s the Friday before Thanksgiving break. The hallways are full of half-dead students in sweats clutching Starbucks cups like IV drips, and I’m feeling... oddly okay.
And I haven’t hooked up with anyone since her.
Not that I’m counting. (Okay, I am counting.
But only because I used to not go three days without at least thinking about who I would be hooking up with next.) After I stayed at hers and opened up, things have been weird between us.
We haven’t spoken about it and I’m not about to push it, but I’m also not going to throw away the chance with her for some random hookup.
I’ve gone out a few times with Ethan, tried to get him back in the swing of things. But his heart isn’t in it. I didn’t even really want to go but I’d do anything to see him back to his usual self.
Last Saturday, we hit up Moe’s, and he barely spoke to the girl trying to flirt with him. Just gave her a soft smile and bought her a drink and then found an excuse to leave early. When I asked him what was up, he just said he was tired.
But I’ve noticed. Every time Alex kisses Freddie, or Alfie sneaks up behind Tara and wraps his arms around her waist, Ethan finds a reason to disappear either saying he needs the bathroom or a drink or some fresh air.
He won’t say it—but being around the happy couples is killing him.
And I get it. Paige messed him up more than he’ll admit.
He’s still trying to pretend like it was just “bad timing” or “miscommunication,” when we all saw the proof with our own eyes.
I’m leaning against the counter in our kitchen, sipping a protein shake and watching Freddie dig around in the utensil drawer for a fork when he says it:
“Oh, by the way—Delilah’s bike is finally fixed.”
That gets my attention.
“Yeah?”
He shrugs. “Sorry it took so long. Buddy of mine had to get a part in from Denver. Took forever.”
I reach for my wallet without thinking. “How much was it?”
Freddie waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
I look at him. He holds my gaze for two whole seconds.
Then sighs. “Twenty-five bucks.”
I pull out a crumpled twenty and a five and hand them over. “Thanks for fitting it in.”
He nods. “She rides a lot, huh? It’s freezing now though.”
I just give him a look. A you-have-no-idea kind of look.
Because yeah, I’ve found out. She usually rides everywhere. Because she doesn’t like asking for help. Because she’s too proud to admit it’s exhausting walking to class from across town in the snow, and she doesn’t trust anyone else to show up consistently.
But I’ve been showing up. Quietly. No questions asked. And now that her bike’s back… I don’t know what that means. I almost don’t want to tell her.
Maybe she’ll ride off into the distance without me. The thought makes me want to pout.
Your noble steed lives.
She doesn’t reply right away, which is fine. I totally don’t check my phone six times in the next two minutes like a loser.
Lilah
My what
Your bike. Freddie finished it. It’s good to go. You’ll be able to cycle through snow and shit again in no time.
Lilah
Oh. Cool.
Thank you.
And Freddie
Seriously, thanks
Np. I’ll come pick you up later so you can collect it?
Lilah
If you’re coming here can you can just bring it to my place?
I grin at my phone, already shaking my head.
Nope. You have to come pick it up.
Lilah
Seriously?
Seriously.
Lilah
What if I’m busy.
I might have a date
You’re not
Lilah
But I might
You don’t. Or if you do cancel, because I’m making fajitas. And you’re invited. Officially, it’s Friday night afterall.
She does not have a date.
There’s a longer pause this time.
Does she have a date? Shit.
Lilah
I don’t want to intrude.
You’re not.
Alex and Tara keep asking about you
And you know I only cook for people I like.
Lilah
Hmm Lacey has invited me to frat row
Mexican food is an excellent stomach liner I hear.
Lilah
Fine. I’ll come by. But only for the bike.
And the food.
And maybe for Tara
I like her
she got all the good genes it seems
I grin.
God, I grin like an idiot.
I type out a response and then backspace it. Twice.
What I want to say is I’m glad you’re coming.
What I want to say is I’ve missed you. Even though I’ve seen you, I want to see you more.
What I send is:
7 sharp. Don’t be late, Mittens. I’ve got peppers to cook
Delilah’s sitting on the floor, cross-legged between Tara and Alex, laughing at something Ethan just said. Really laughing, head tilted back, mouth wide open, her cheeks pink from the heat and the sangria.
And I am so far gone, it’s embarrassing. I swear I must have puppy eyes watching her. Delilah came over a couple hours ago just to grab her bike. Just the bike, she said.
She even stood awkwardly on the front step, hands shoved into her coat pockets, insisting she couldn’t stay—something about emails and laundry and “not being kidnapped by extroverts.”
Then Tara opened the door, took one look at her, and physically dragged her inside.
The next time I saw Delilah, she was halfway through doing her makeup in Alfie’s room—sitting at his desk like she owned the place, curling her lashes with terrifying focus while Tara talked a mile a minute beside her.
Poor Alfie, he had no idea what getting involved with my sister meant.
His room is full of pink, glitter and makeup.
Delilah caught my eye, silently pleading for rescue.
I just raised my hands in surrender.
You're on your own, Greer.
Then came fajitas. And laughter. And now we’re sitting around on the floor with drinks, trying to cheer up Ethan—who, for the first time in weeks, hasn’t ghosted the group dinner to sulk in his room.
That alone feels like a win. Now Delilah’s here on my rug in my house, laughing.
“Okay, okay,” Ethan says, holding up a hand like he’s conducting an orchestra. “New game. Everyone’s had food. Everyone’s relaxed. Time to get to the good stuff.”
Alex eyes him. “This isn’t one of your weird improv games, right?”
“No.” He grins. “We’re doing classic Never Have I Ever. Everyone grab your drinks.”
“Oh no,” Alfie mutters from the couch. “This never ends well.”
“Exactly,” Ethan says, pouring himself another half glass of wine. “And that’s the point.”
We circle up—Tara pulls the coffee table out of the way with a flourish, and suddenly we’re ten years old again at a sleepover. Except there’s tequila. And significantly more thigh on display from Delilah.
Delilah shifts to sit back against the couch, her knee brushing mine. I lean into her and give her a smile.
Alex starts us off. “Never have I ever… cheated on a test.”
I roll my eyes. I love her but she’s such a nerd.
Half the group drinks. Ethan whistles dramatically.
“A bunch of delinquents, I say!”
Tara jumps in next, “Never have I ever…kissed someone in a university building.”
That one gets a round of looks, including a not-so-subtle glance from Alfie. Delilah sips her drink without blinking, but her cheeks flush a little deeper.
I smirk into my cup, I want to know this story. And I want to know if she’s down to kiss somebody on campus, why hasn’t it been me?
We go around a few more times. Some of the questions are tame, some downright insane. Thanks to Alex’s “Never have I ever had a sex dream about Ethan” curveball, where way too many people drank, for the first time in weeks, Ethan’s laughing again.
It feels like the old him. Like maybe we’re finding our way back. I sneak another look at Delilah. God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
She’s watching the group like she’s not used to being part of something like this. Her smile is a little too careful. Like she’s waiting for the moment it’ll all get taken away.
So I nudge her with my elbow.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She turns to look at me, and her eyes are bright, and a little surprised.
“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s just… a lot of energy in here.”
“Yeah, we’re not great at chill,” I say. “But you’re holding your own.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not some fragile little kitten, Hawkins.”
“No, Mittens,” I murmur. “You’re definitely not that.”
The next question goes around, something wild about skinny dipping, and she ducks her head, sipping her drink with a smirk.
But when she laughs again, full body, no hesitation, I catch Tara watching her from across the room.
My sister nudges Alfie and says something I can’t hear.
But she’s smiling. Everyone’s smiling. And Delilah, for the first time in weeks, doesn’t look like she’s halfway out the door. She looks like she might want to stay.
“Truth or dare?”
Freddie grins at me over the rim of his drink, eyes just a little too sharp for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has.
I smirk, leaning back against the couch. “Dare, obviously.”
Alex groans. “I still hate this stupid game.”
“Truth is for cowards,” I say.
The room laughs. Tara’s curled up with her head on Alfie’s lap, Ethan’s on the floor with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a burrito, and Delilah’s still beside me, legs stretched out, drink cradled between both hands.
Freddie taps his chin, thinking. “Alright. I dare you to… text someone in your contacts that you have a crush on.”
There’s a ripple of noise across the room. Ethan chokes on his drink.
“Oh, come on.” I scoff. “That’s a trap.”
“Nope.” Freddie grins. “It’s a challenge.”
“Troy Hawkins doesn’t do crushes,” I say flatly.
Alfie, lifts his glass and murmurs, “Wow. That’s healthy.”
I shoot him a look.
“Alright,” I say, reaching for my phone. “You want me to text someone I’ve got a crush on?”
Freddie spreads his hands like be my guest. The room watches in total silence.
I scroll. Tap. Type. And hit send.
Ping.
Everyone looks around.
And Delilah, sitting two inches to my left, blinks at her phone screen like it just grew legs. I look straight ahead. She stares at her lap.
Nobody says anything for a full five seconds.