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“Mmhm.” She slings her backpack over both arms.

She doesn’t sound sure, but I let it drop. We walk out together, and then turn, taking the same path back to Shotgun. “For the record,” I announce. “I am not walking you home. Just headed the same direction.”

She cuts me a glare. “I know.”

We continue in silence. Normally I have no problem talking to people. Girls. New faces. Adults. But Twyler is tough to crack and dare I say it, immune to my charm. My phone buzzes and I ignore it, afraid to even look.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” she blurts as we cross the street, leaving campus and walking into our neighborhood.

“Oh, yeah?”

“You said that you know I don’t like guys…”

“Right. I mean, whoever you’re into, or not into, it’s not my business.”

She stops walking and takes a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she says, “That’s the thing, I do. I do like guys. Men.”

Huh. I take in her sporty vibe. It’s not screaming,I want to kiss girls, but it’s also not encouraging anything else. Asexual, maybe? I haven’t thought too much about it. Then I think back to that outfit at the party and how my body responded to her and… well, fuck.

“What are you saying?” I ask, trying to gauge where this conversation is going.

“I’m saying that there’s this assumption I’m not into men, but I am.” Her chin juts out. “I’ve had a boyfriend before.”

Aboyfriend. Noted.

“Okay.”

“I’m just more comfortable like this,” she tugs at the workout pants, “and it works for the job. It’s not some kind of sexual identifier.”

“Of course not.” As someone who spends their days in workout clothes or practice uniforms, I get it.

“I just…” God her face is so red and her hands twist around the straps of her backpack. “…I want to make that clear.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re into guys, but you’re just really awkward.”

“What?” Her jaw drops. “I never said that.”

“Okay, I inferred it.” But I hear what she’s saying. We’ve been making a lot of assumptions and jokes—treating her like a kid, or one of the guys, when so far, she’s proven that she’s a smart, capable woman. “But that explains the kiss. Because that wasn’t the kiss of a woman who isn’t attracted to men.”

Or me, but I’m afraid she’ll punch me if I say that out loud.

Her cheeks go red again and that’s when it clicks that her normal bitchy expression is a shield to hide her vulnerability. The phone in my hand buzzes. Shanna. I press the device against my forehead and mutter, “Not again.”

“Something wrong?” Twyler asks.

“Apparently, kissing you didn’t do anything to deter Shanna. If anything, it seems to have fueled her interest again.” The phone buzzes again.“Shit.”

“I told you no one would believe it.”

I laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, because this?” I hold up the phone. “Thisis insecurity. And you made her insecure.”

“Unlikely.”

“You hide behind that bitchy scowl and that ancient hoodie.” I rake my eyes down her body. “I told you before, you don’t see yourself clearly, Sunshine.”

She scowls. “Don’tcall me that.”

Fuck, she’s cute riled up, but any follow up is cut by the buzz of my phone.