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I flip them off and slip into my truck. Without a distraction, I have the foolish urge to see an angry girl tonight.

I just have to find her first. Which proves to be a difficult task when she doesn't answer my texts. Fortunately, Amara is in a helpful mood and tells me Summer’s at the library.

It’s finding which one that’s the issue.

A thorough and exhausting search later, I spot long hair and a pale pink sweater in the quiet study area. The sound of the chair being pulled out drags Summer’s attention to me. She assesses the rain sprinkled across the shoulders of my gray hoodie. She brings her attention back to her work.

“Don’t you have a game?” she finally asks.

The reminder of the loss feels less painful when I’m with her. “It was earlier. I came here to study.”

She nails me with a skeptical look. “You never study in the library.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” I shrug. But she’s right. I prefer the chaotic nature of the house. Libraries were too quiet for me.

“So you came to the farthest library on campus?” she presses.

“Took me three tries.”

“For what?”

“To find this one.”

“The others didn’t have what you were looking for?”

I smile. “Not even close.”

She waits for more, but she isn’t going to get it. I’ve been doing a lot of things I don’t understand lately, so I’ve stopped trying to analyze them. “You can ask me anything you want. Show me all your data sets.”

She resumes typing, brushing her hair from her face. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have any more questions?”

“I do, but that’s for Wednesday.”

“Right, cause you can’t stray from your calendar even a little.”

“As someone whose head only has a puck running through it, I don’t expect you to understand,” she snipes.

“Trust me, I have a lot of things running through my head.”

“I’m sure the daily influx of nudes you get on a daily basis keeps you occupied.”

My attraction to her insults is mildly concerning. I’d talk to a therapist about it, but I’d rather not divulge that. I chuckle, and I can see her lip tip up before she looks away again.

“If you thought I’d shift around my schedule so you would be off the hook this week, I can’t. So, feel free to leave.”

“I’m good right here.”

She appears dubious. “Trying to get on my good side after sticking us with Donny?”

“Fingers crossed.” I notice a crumpled paper under her textbook. “What’s this?”

She tries to snatch back the flier. “Nothing.”

I hold it away from her reach. “ Mental health initiative for athletes ?” I glance at her. “You set up an event?”

“Kind of.” She shifts uncomfortably. “It was supposed to be once a semester, but the last one did terribly, so I’m scrapping it.”

“When was the last one?”

“December. Only the extra credit students were there. No athletes showed. Except for Tyler.”

That’s the one Coach was pissed at me for missing. It was Summer’s event. “You should do it.”

She laughs. “And get humiliated again? No thanks.”

“I’ll come, and I’ll tell everyone I know about it.” I’d be ignorant to not recognize the influence I have on campus. There’s a certain reputation that comes with being captain.

She gathers her hair and tucks it to one side. “No way. I don’t need you advertising my event and people thinking we’re something we’re not.”

My head tilts. “We can’t just be friends? I don’t have to be fucking you to go to your event.”

She frowns at my brashness. “We’re not either of those things.”

“Don’t change the subject. Are you doing it or not?”

She looks away. “No. It’s a lot of work.”

“Since when do you shy away from work? You took me on.”

“You annoyed me into taking you on.” She reaches for the paper again.

I don’t give it back. “You should do it. It’ll look really good for your application.” She bites her lip, mulling it over. “Come on, you know you want to.”

I almost think she’ll refuse again, but she sighs. “Fine. I’ll check with the department, but I can advertise it on my own. Thanks for the offer.”

Satisfied, I lean back in my chair. “Look at us, agreeing on something without bickering.”

“We did bicker.”

“That wasn’t bickering.”

“Yes, it was.”

“No—”

“We’re doing it right now!” She lets out an irritated breath, but I don’t miss the amused chuckle that accompanies it.

Once again, she gathers her hair and moves it behind her shoulders.

Instinctively, I remove the hair tie that’s been sitting on my wrist for way longer than it should have and hold it out.

“Here.”

She stares at my hand until recognition crosses her features. “That’s mine.”

“Good observation. Take it.”

“You kept my hair tie?”

Now that I think about it, it is kind of creepy. Who in their right mind holds a girl's hair tie for weeks without having plans to use or return it? The look on her face tells me she might be thinking the same thing. “You said you like your hair up.”

“So you just, what, kept it on your wrist this whole time?”

“Turn around, Summer,” I order, evading the question.

Although she still looks unsure, she turns her back to me. Her peach scent clouds my senses as I gather her soft hair and twist the hair tie around, not too tight, so she doesn’t get a headache.

When I’m done, she touches it. “Not bad. You practice on a lot of girls?”

“Just you. But I am naturally good with my hands.”

She makes a face. “Are you incapable of having a normal conversation?”

“No, but I do like seeing you blush.”

“I do not blush,” she argues, blushing.

We study for two more hours. Well, she studies, and I pretend to. It’s way too hard to focus in the quiet of the library. When she finally closes her laptop, I want to rejoice, but she simply packs it into her bag and walks off. I catch up to her outside.

“What are you doing now?” I sound like a clingy toddler, but I can’t help myself.

She throws me an unreadable glance. “Going to my dorm.”

“Need company?”

She laughs, then seems to realize I’m not joking. “I have a quiz to submit, and I need to confirm with Dr. Toor about the test you’re doing on Wednesday.”

“We just spent two hours studying. Don’t you want to relax?”

“ I spent two hours studying. You stared into space.” She walks faster as if she can’t wait to get away from me.

“Okay, but shouldn’t you take a break?”

“If I wanted a break, I would have taken a gap year.”

I laugh, but her expression tells me that’s not a joke. “It’s only eight. We should do something.”

“I am doing something. I’m going to my dorm.” She sighs when I don’t quit walking beside her. “Look, you obviously still feel guilty about the Donny thing, but I’m over it. You did something impulsive, and now we have to live with the consequences. It’s whatever.”

“Let me at least make it up to you. I’ll take you out for dinner. You have to eat, right?”

“Goodnight, Aiden,” she sings, leaving me in the quad.