Page 40 of Collide
“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?”
“Ispent 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.
13 | SUMMER
