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“Professor Beckett for you. For me, he’s Professor Dick.”

She laughs.

The barista calls River’s name, and I grab our coffees while she grabs the muffins. My stomach grumbles again.

River sips her coffee. “Why do you call him that? Wait! Have you seen the goods?”

“What? No! I call him Dick because his first name starts with a D, and he’s a dick.”

“I don’t know. Everyone says he’s an amazing teacher.”

“Not everyone.” I glare at his back, sending imaginary daggers his way. He always looks at me like I’m a bug he wants to step on.

“There’s always a waitlist for his classes. I finally got in. I’m taking his class in the spring.”

“Ugh.”

“What makes you think he hates you?”

I’ve never told River this story. “He caught me making out with a guy in his classroom,” I mumble behind the coffee cup.

“What? He caught you having sex in his classroom!” She leans into me, her face inches away. Thank God she whispered the words.

“No! Just kissing. But we were really into it, and apparently it took Beckett a while to get our attention.”

“He had to yell at you?”

“Technically, he had to tap our shoulders and pull us apart.” I cringe.

“Damn.”

“Yeah …”

“Holy crap.” Her eyes widen.

“I know.”

“I’m jealous.” She says this with a sigh.

“Jealous? Of one of the most embarrassing moments of my life?”

“Well … I want mind-bending-reality-forgetting kisses too.”

I stop at that. My mouth open while I stare at my best friend.

“Dude. You can have anyone you want. Every guy on campus has the hots for you. And I dare guess about a quarter of the female population too.” At first, I thought being friends with the most beautiful girl on campus would be detrimental to me. But when I’m with River, I become invisible. And that’s exactly how I like it.

She points at me with her coffee-holding hand. “And look at you. You’re beautiful, but you don’t let anyone in. Guys look at you, but you can be as prickly as a porcupine, and you never ever have a problem finding someone to take home.”

She points at herself. “They don’t want me. They want this.” She waves a hand. “All they see is the shell. No guy ever tries to get to know me. And the girls, well, they get catty and see me as competition. Being beautiful”—she makes air quotes with her fingers when she says beautiful, coffee sloshing a little over the side—“isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

A touch of hurt tinges her words. Is River as lonely as I am? Despite having her family’s love and support? I guess we’re both cursed in a way. River by her looks and me by my past.

Beauty fades. But the past? The past never goes away.

Chapter Two

That familiar tinglehits me first. Then her name, spoken out loud, confirms what I already know.