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But Taejin doesn’t listen. Instead, if I’m not mistaken, he puffs out his chest a bit. “No problem. Look, now that we know that we’re both at Brighton, we should go out sometime.” He laughs. “Did I ever tell you that you were my first crush back when we were kids?”

Oh, well, this is awkward. I just remember him calling me names and telling everyone that I couldn’t memorize the lines of our Nativity play. I had one line. I memorized it just fine.

And weird timing, if you ask me, but okay. I don’t think this is pre-med curriculum approved.

My brain thinks about my tropes list and how Pre-med Taejin could fill in my blank freebie spot with a second-chance romance. It’s a stretch, but it could work.

But we’re on an agreed-upon break from the competition because of midterms. And honestly, I’m way too tired and clearly too drugged to be thinking about this now.

“That’s all really sweet, but sorry, buddy, Irene is way too busy with midterms and shit right now,” Aiden says confidently. Apparently, he’s never seen my very open social calendar. “Contact her in a few weeks when things have died down. Actually, make it a few months, maybe after the holidays, or in the new semester, even. You must know how tough college classes are, being pre-med and all.”

I want to protest Aiden speaking for me as if I can’t do it on my own. But I’m too groggy and tired to move my lips, so maybe he’s doing me a favor. Aiden wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in, leading me toward the exit and away from Taejin. Even after a day of kickball and some hours in the medical center during a stressful midterms week, he smells so good. How does he do that?

“Oh, yeah, well, I totally get it. I have to get back to studying, too. Pre-med midterms are a beast. Irene, I’ll contact you later, maybe after the holidays,” Taejin calls out to me as we walk away.

I nod, but the movement causes a zinger in my head. I wince.

“You okay?” Aiden asks.

“I’m just tired and my face is sore,” I say, barely able to keep my eyes open. I lean farther into Aiden’s hold.

For a second, I have this ghost feeling that his lips touch the top of my head. But I know I’m just delirious.

“We should have played a drinking game for every time he said ‘pre-med,’” Aiden says.

I think I let out a giggle, but I don’t remember. In fact, when I wake up hours later in my dorm room, I can’t quite pull myself through the fuzziness enough to remember most of what happened that afternoon.

I check through sleepy eyes once to make sure Jeannette is okay. She’s sitting at her desk, headphones back on, hair back in a bun, studying. So I close my heavy eyelids, ignoring the large shoes on the floor next to my bed and what feels like a leg draped over mine. I just fall back into a deep sleep as lips gently touch my head and I’m wrapped safely in the arms of the best-smelling dream I’ve ever had.

Epigraph

That moment, you know the one, when they have to shift a little bit to get more comfortable in that tiny wine cellar and the touch ignites them? *fans self* Hottest. Thing. Ever.

—@irene.loves.love.books

They’re stuck together in the too-small wine cellar and there’s nowhere else to go? Inject this into my veins.

—@aidentheguyreadsromance

Eight

forced proximity

My palms are clammy as I get into the elevator. I press the button for the third floor and then lean my back against the wall of the small carriage. I’m not ready for this meeting.

My lit professor, in lieu of midterms, is having individual check-ins with each of his students. Just me and him. No Aiden to hide behind.

I’ve managed to stay pretty under the radar in this class, I think. I never raise my hand or do anything to be perceived. I just turn in my weekly assignment in the form of journal entries about what we’re reading. Okay, so I’ve missed a few weeks, but I can make up for it with our end-of-semester project score. Maybe Dr. Kingston just wants to talk about the latest Christina Lauren book?

The elevator doors finally close slowly and I let out a deep breath. The whole metal box jerks slightly and I freeze,wondering if I’m about to drop the six feet this slow thing has puttered upward thus far and fall to my death. When the panic starts to build just enough that I contemplate if I have time to text a goodbye message to my parents, the elevator stabilizes itself and resumes its slow climb.

My professor’s office door is open when I arrive, and I peek in to find him laughing with a student, the back of whom I have become very familiar with.

Aiden.

Great, he’s charmed the socks off our professor, and when it’s my turn, my awkward self will obliterate any remnant of good feelings. Books are fun. Why are they not fun in the context of this class for me, I wonder. Dr. Kingston is probably wondering this, too. I hope he doesn’t ask me.

“Irene, hello, come in, come in. Aiden and I were just finishing up here.”