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She blows me a kiss. “Anytime, babes.”

When I glance down at my phone, there’s a voicemail from Alex.

But I’m afraid if I listen to it, hear his voice again, that I’ll fall right back down the rabbit hole that I’ve been working to climb out of since walking away over a year ago.

So, I delete it instead.

And then Berlin and I go to Huden Dining Hall to get dinner and meet up with Skylar, DJ, and Bentley for a movie night in.

*

The rest ofJuly passes relatively quickly, with a brutal record-setting heatwave on the very last day of the month reminding me why having big boobs is not fun. “I don’t know how Dolly does it,” I grumble, taking the keys out to my car and hitting the unlock button.

“Does what?” a voice asks from behind me, making me startle. I drop my keys, sending them flying across the hot pavement while my hand flies to my heart.

“Balls,” I hiss, staring wide-eyed at Alex. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I haven’t had any caffeine yet, so the likelihood of that is high. “Alex?” I ask just to be sure.

He walks over and squats down to collect my keys, standing to full height merely inches from me. “Isn’t that what that old guy onSupernaturalused to say?”

Old—“Bobby wasn’t old” is the first thing that comes to mind. “And I don’t even know how you remember that.”

One of his shoulders lifts as he extends my keys out to me, leaving them hanging from his fingertips. “We used to watch that show together all the time. You’re the one who got me into it.”

Am I really seeing him or is the heat making me hallucinate? Maybe it’s heat exhaustion. Or sun poisoning. I accidentally poked my eye with my mascara wand this morning. Could that be why I’m tortured with a mirage of a six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-ten-pound left wing?

Because that’s evil if it is.

“Olive?” he asks, jiggling my keys.

I snatch them from the mirage’s hand like he could take them away or vanish at any second. “I didn’t think you liked that show.”

“I could have done without the musical numbers but…” His words fade, and we fall into silence.

Alex is really here. In Lindon. In front of me.

Then it kicks in. “What are you doing here lurking outside my dorm building?”

He scratches the column of his throat. “I was in town dealing with a last-minute thing at my mom’s house. I heard you were staying here for the summer, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if you were around. And you didn’t call me back. I left a message yesterday.”

How long has he been out here? And why does he look so damn good in a pair of jeans and T-shirt when I’ve got sweat coming from places I didn’t even know could sweat. “I’m heading out, actually.”

His eyes do a once-over at my workout leggings and tee with a faded Coca-Cola logo on it. I think I bought both from a vintage thrift shop with Skylar a year ago. “Date?”

Is this what he thinks I’d wear on a date? I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. I’m barely even wearingmakeup. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” I point out. “Who goes on dates this early?”

“Breakfast dates are a thing, Olive.” His lips slowly curl up at one side. “Especially if people stay the night. I seem to recall you enjoying the apple cider mimosas and cinnamon waffles from the diner during Sunday brunch.”

In my defense, it was their fall special that they only offered for a limited time. It wasn’t often that Alex and I went out, but when we did, I took full advantage. Especially when it came to mimosas. “I didn’t realize you considered those dates,” I admit with a loose shrug.

One of his eyebrows quirks up. “What else would I call it?”

Why would I assume it was anything? He’d always kept me at arm’s length, never labeling us. It seemed logical for me to not associate our breakfast outings as anything other than two people replenishing the calories we burned the night before.

I choose my words carefully, feeling those icy blues piercing my face. “I always thought of it more as post-coitus obligation.”

He blinks. “Did you really just call it coitus?”

“It’s more ladylike than fucking.”