Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I wish my vision away. Josh is not here. When I open again, I see the differences. The last time a boy touched me here—anywhere—his hands were soft and young, the hands of someone who’s barely lived. It’s only been two years, but it seems eighteen is so very far from sixteen. Or maybe it’s just the way Nate is built. His hands are rough and weathered, and large enough to wrap completely around my midsection if he wanted them to.

I must have been holding my breath the entire time, because it seems minutes have passed without my knowledge, and I’m on my back with Nate’s perfect, dusty blue-gray eyes staring back and forth from one eye to the other. His lips are moving, but I don’t hear any sound. I don’t hear any sound!

It doesn’t take long for my heart to react, and suddenly I’m sitting and fighting and punching to break free. Exits, where are the exits? Why are Josh’s hands on me again? Why is he stopping me?

“Rowe! Rowe! Breathe!”

Breathe. That’s right; just breathe.

I blink. It’s like one of those sand drawings where slowly everything falls into place, and I can see the entire picture. Most of the other students are leaving the gym, and the music comes back into focus. I see Cass standing over Nate’s shoulder. And Nate—Nate is holding me at my shoulders and looking with concern into my eyes.

“Wha…what happened?” I ask, wondering why the room is no longer filled with freshmen sitting in circles.

“You fainted,” Nate says, moving his hands from my shoulders to my face. The way he’s squeezing my cheeks makes me feel as if I’m making a fish face, and I scoot away from him. “You hit your head. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just…just a little confused is all. How did I get on the floor?”

His hands are back on my face, and he’s looking at me closely. I’m not sure he has any qualifications to be giving me a concussion test, but I let him look this time, mostly because I like the way my head feels in his hands.

“You were on my lap, and then all of a sudden, your entire body went limp. The girl that was balancing on you fell, too. She hit her head hard!” He cringes, and I feel terrible; all I want to do now is find that quiet, curly-haired girl I took out with me.

“Is she okay?”

“I think so. Her friend was with her and took her to the health center. She was walking though, so I’m sure she’s fine,” Nate says, lifting me up to a stand by pulling under my arms. His hand quickly finds its way to my back again, and despite the cold sweat covering my body, I feel a rush of heat.

During our walk back to the dorm, Ty invites everyone to hang out in his and Nate’s room; I notice Paige perk up at that thought. She’s standing on the other side of Nate, asking him question after question—about baseball and what position he plays, and what his number is, and what time his games are so she can watch. He’s giving her clipped answers, which strangely pleases me.

“I know sometimes practices are open. I’d love to come watch you play,” Paige says, grabbing ahold of his other arm and looking at him with the most annoying doe eyes I’ve ever seen. Something inside me snaps; I shirk away from his side and wrap my arms around my midsection, squeezing.

“Yeah, maybe you can come watch and analyze his swing, tell him he dips his shoulder too much, and that’s why he doesn’t get the pop he should off the bat,” I mumble to myself, rolling my eyes while I look out at the buildings leading up to our dorm. I barely finish my sentence when Nate’s hand finds my shoulder again, and he spins me to look at him.

“Say that again,” he says slowing us down enough, Paige has to continue with Ty, Cass, and a few of the other students who live on our floor.

“Nothing.” I’m squeezing myself tighter now, wishing I didn’t just throw a baby fit because I was jealous.

“That was not nothing, and you know it. How do you know I dip my shoulder? And how do you know what dipping a shoulder means?” he asks, his eyes squinted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks at me while we continue now, well behind our friends.

If I could have one super power, I would want the ability to enact re-dos in life. Because right now, all I want to do is relive the last two minutes and keep my damn mouth shut. But since that’s not going to happen…

“I Googled you.” I feel like an idiot.

“You…Googled me?”

“Yeah, I Googled you. After our lunch, I wanted to see how good you were, because I could tell you were being modest. And you were being modest, by the way. The Indians wanted you!” This is called diarrhea of the mouth.