Page 97 of Never Your Girl

His lips lift into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s take my car.”

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FragileLikeABomb

Quick poll: Are pineapple toppings on pizza a culinary masterpiece or an abomination?

ColdAsIce17

Bold of you to assume there’s even a debate. Abomination, obviously.

FragileLikeABomb

Wrong answer. Pineapple on pizza is elite.

ColdAsIce17

That explains your gummy bear habits.

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And your peanut butter habits explain your terrible taste.

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It’s official. We’re at war.

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Bring it, Cold

31

Bridger

The quad buzzes with activity as students hurry between classes. Their laughter and chatter blends with the faint strains of music carried on the brisk spring breeze. I lean against a bench near Holland’s building, the coffee in my hand starting to lose its warmth. I scan the steady stream of people spilling out the doors, searching for a familiar flash of auburn hair.

I want Holland to understand that what I feel for her is genuine. I meant what I said about regretting the way I ghosted her two years ago. After last night, I don’t want to do anything that makes her think I’m pulling away.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of unexpected shifts. Fake dating has morphed into late-night talks, quiet confessions, and moments I can’t bring myself to overanalyze.

Moments that feel disarmingly real.

Like last night, curled up in my bed, Holland’s sharp edges softened as we talked about everything and nothing. It’s enough to make me think we’re both moving in the same direction.

Most times in life, you don’t get a do-over. There isn’t a chance to go back and correct a mistake.

But I’m really hoping that’s what’s happening between us now.

An opportunity to undo the choice I made out of fear.

“Dude, your behavior is really starting to freak me out. Maybe the guys are right and you need an intervention.” Steele’s voice breaks into the chaotic whirl of my thoughts.

It’s not like I don’t get where he’s coming from. This entire thing with Holland started out as a way to keep her close so I could watch her every move until she either fucked up or came clean.

Instead, I’m the one who’s done a complete one-eighty.

My fingers tighten around the coffee as I glance over my shoulder to meet his eyes. “You can hold off on the intervention for the time being. I haven’t started scrolling through the Humane Society’s adoption pages yet.”

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