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26

Bridger

I slouch in one of the library’s oversized chairs, scrolling through my phone. Steele sits across from me, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head.

“You doing okay, bro?” he asks, breaking the quiet hum around us. “That last message was brutal.”

With a shrug, I keep my eyes focused on the screen. “I’m fine.”

Even though the messages have been relentless, blowing up phones on a daily basis, the sting has dulled. Or maybe I’ve just gotten better at pretending they don’t bother me. Either way, I’m not giving whoever’s behind this the satisfaction of knowing they’ve burrowed deep beneath my skin.

The only thing I can control in this situation is my response.

Steele studies me like he’s trying to crack a secret code. After a long pause, he leans forward. “You know what? Strangely enough, I actually believe you. You no longer look seconds away from committing homicide.”

I glance up. “What’s so strange about that?”

“I don’t know. I was kind of expecting that you’d be going off the rails by now.” He smirks. “Maybe having a fake girlfriend suits you.”

A huff of laughter slips free from me. “You might be right about that.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

He raises a brow, clearly enjoying himself, before dropping his voice. His expression shifts to something more serious. “So, do you still think she’s the one behind the messages?”

“No,” I say without hesitation.

Steele tilts his head, clearly skeptical at how I’ve reversed course so quickly. “Is it because she said so? Or because she said so after sucking your dick?”

The anger that whips through me is sharp and takes me by surprise. My shoulders tense as I shoot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up, Steele. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender as concern floods his eyes. “Hey, I’m just saying. At this point, everyone’s still a suspect. Even Holland.” There’s a pause. “Or maybe I should say especially Holland. And less than a week ago, you thought the same damn thing.”

I open my mouth to fire back when my phone chimes with an incoming message, cutting me off. I glance at the screen, and my heart does a weird little flip when I see the notification is from the campus chat app.

FragileLikeABomb.

It’s the first time in days I’ve thought about her. Normally, she’s the first person I turn to when things go sideways.

But now it’s Holland.

Steele pushes to his feet, stretching like he’s been sitting there for hours. “I’m gonna take off. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, distracted by my phone.

He hesitates, and I wonder if he’ll say more about Holland. I brace myself for an argument. But it never happens. In the end, he walks away, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s the one person I hate being at odds with.

Not wanting to think about my cousin, I tap the message and open the chat.

FragileLikeABomb

Hey, how’ve you been? We haven’t talked much lately.

Guilt presses down on me as I stare at the screen. She’s right. I’ve been MIA, and it’s not fair to her.

Me

Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been busy.

Her reply is quick.

FragileLikeABomb

No worries. Just glad you’re okay.

Our conversation feels off. Stilted in a way it never has before. Usually, our chats flow effortlessly, like we’ve known each other forever. But that’s not the case this evening.

Even though my response isn’t exactly a lie, that’s what it feels like I’m doing.

Lying to her.

Maybe I should end it.

The thought makes my stomach churn. Fragile has always been there for me, and now I’m just going to ditch her because things with Holland have become complicated?

What kind of person does that make me?

I’m still staring at the screen, lost in thought, when Holland appears out of nowhere.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft but steady.

I glance up, and just like that, everything in me eases. Seeing her does that to me, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around why. My gaze drifts over her outfit, and I sit up straighter, the tension in my shoulders momentarily forgotten.

Holy fuck.

Holland looks more like a walking distraction. She’s rocking a black band T-shirt that clings to her curves in all the right ways, and a leather jacket that’s just a touch too big, giving her an effortlessly cool vibe. But it’s the rest of her outfit that nearly derails me. My gaze slides over her short plaid skirt that’s paired with black fishnet tights. If that wasn’t enough, her socks have tiny pink lip prints stamped on them. The look is finished off with platform sneakers that somehow make her legs look even longer.

In all the time I’ve known Holland, I’ve never seen her wear a skirt.

I like it.

Too damn much.

She drops into the seat across from me, pulling me out of my daze.

“Hey,” I manage to reply, shoving my phone into my pocket and trying not to blatantly stare. My voice falters as my brain scrambles for words. “You look…”

Her brow quirks, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. “Nice?”

“Better than that.” The word tumbles off my tongue before I can stop it. “Hot.”

Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at her mouth. “Thanks,” she murmurs before meeting my gaze again. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “Although, I’m not sure how you expect me to get any work done when you look like that.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she says with a snort.

I narrow my eyes playfully, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, we will,” she counters, her smile growing as she pulls out her laptop. The easy banter between us settles something inside me, like a knot loosening after being pulled too tight.

For the first time all day, I finally feel like I can breathe again.

And that has everything to do with the girl sitting across from me.