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“Don’t be stupid. Close the window. I’ll sneak you out through the front.”

Wetiptoe through HuntingtonHall, holding hands and giggling like two complete idiots, and I end up walking him all the way to his car, reluctant to part ways. Once we reach it, Evan turns suddenly towards me, breath misting in the icy air.

“If you can’t spend Christmas at mine,” he says, “how about the summer?”

“I would love to.” I sigh. “But I’ll be applying for internships.”

“Then why don’t you apply to KMG?” He licks snowflakes off his lips. “Mom and Dad would love to have you. You could stay with me, save rent.” He gives me another crooked grin. “I’d make it worth your time, trust me.”

I flush despite the cold, despite my exposed thighs. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right to get the internship just because I know your parents. I don’t want people to think I only got in because of my connections?”

“Once you start, it won’t matter how you got in: the only thing that’ll matter is how hard you work. Besides, you might as well use your connections: that’s what every single person in your class is going to be doing.”

He’s right, of course. It’s not like I have an abundance of advantages at my disposal—and not having to worry about securing an internship, or about rent, would make a world of difference to me.

“I’ll think about it.”

He nods, and then he takes my chin very gently into his upturned palm, and he kisses my lips as lightly as the falling snow. My heart drops, and I have the sudden, dizzying sensationof leaning too far over a great ledge, the terror and elation of an imminent fall.

“Think about me, as well,” he tells me.

The flutter in my chest melts into a shower of golden sparks. Oh god. What on earth is wrong with me? Why does it feel like I have acrushon Evan Knight?

I’ve loved him, and I’ve loathed him, and I’ve wanted him, and I’ve wanted him dead, but I’ve never had a crush on him before. I’ve never had a crush on anyone—ever.

It feels exhilarating and terrifying and totally, utterly magical.

Fuck. I’m in trouble.

I swallow thickly. “I will.”

“Good,” he murmurs. He pulls away and opens his car door. “Hurry back inside, it’s cold.”

I obey him, rushing away through the lawn, boots crunching the snowy grass beneath.

“Sophie?”

I turn, hair flying in the wind, to glance back at Evan. He grins.

“I’ll be thinking about you too, love.”

16

Fragile Thing

Sophie

Winter break comes andgoes. I try not to dwell on it too much. The loneliness is the most unbearable it’s ever been: every string of fairy lights, every bauble-laden Christmas tree, every garland of paper snowflakes is a reminder of how far I am from home.

I try to make up for it: I put up fairy lights around my window, buy a tiny dollar store Christmas tree. I gather the snow on my windowsill into a little snowman to watch over my window.

None of it makes me feel better. Paradoxically, the only thing that helps me through this pit of seasonal depression is the very thing that’s got me trapped here. The work. With most of my classmates gone home for Christmas, the library is almost always free, and I’m finally able to start catching myself up on everything.

The holiday ends but the winter lingers, overstaying its welcome, snow clinging stubbornly to the streets. Spring semester begins.

Whatever head start I gained over break is gone within days. Deadlines stack up before I can catch my breath. Legal researchtakes over my life,LexisNexisbecomes my second home, Moot Court looms like a black spectre of death, and every class becomes a barrage of hypotheticals.

The numbness is almost comforting. I wake up early, go to bed late, eat while I work. No time for anxiety, no time for anything but keeping up.