“Ooooooh, yeah. Sorry ladies. I think I may have sharted,” he says, and I cover my mouth with an actual snort-laugh while my cheeks burn with the brightest shade of pink. The two girls just stare ahead, eyes wide, leaning their arms into one another, waiting to discuss this elevator ride. When the door opens, I slap Nate on the arm, pushing him off balance a little.

“I cannot believe you said that!”

“Hey, you left me little choice. You should know—I don’t lose the embarrassment game. If you think you want a piece of this, consider this fair warning. You’re going to lose, every time.” He’s so sure of himself that it stirs another feeling in my belly. I used to be competitive—I was even that way with Josh, always having to one up his test scores, and run my mile just a little faster in PE.

“Oh yeah? You think I’m scared off by that?” The look in his eye and the way he smiles—biting his tongue with the back of his teeth while he listens to me—is enough to pull me all the way in. “I just felt bad for you. Those girls think you’re a sharter. You’re never getting in their pants now.”

“I don’t want in their pants,” he says, the same look on his face, and I feel like there is a double meaning to his words. My lungs feel tight with hope I shouldn’t have.

“It’s on,” I say, turning to look back in front of me, my eyes focused on the two doors leading into the cafeteria. This step is so amazingly huge—I wish someone in my inner circle were here to witness it. I know that distracting myself with Nate is the only reason I’m now pushing the doors open and stepping inside the noisy room full of tables and chairs and strangers. My lungs grow even smaller and tighter when I do, but my feet keep moving.

Yes, friends help you heal. But Nate is stronger than that. And he’s bringing back pieces of me that I thought were dead for good.

“Hey, guys. Sorry we’re late. Rowe got a phone call that her ointment was ready. We had to go pick it up. That’s the one that helps with the…burning…right?” Nate fake-whispers, holding my gaze to see how I handle his challenge. I fight against myself, knowing how badly my eyes want to show shock, and my cheeks want to flair up with embarrassment. I used to be good at this. And I think I can do this again. I remember friends.

“Yeah, it’s way better now. That stuff works really fast,” I say, and his lips tick up at the corners into a tiny smile. “Too bad about your pants, though.”

I leave everyone hanging, because I know if I wait long enough, someone will take my bait. It won’t be Nate. He’s too good, and he knows exactly what I’m doing. He even sees me grab the bottle of water in line and slowly pull off the cap. I’m pretty sure I can count on Paige, though, and when she’s the one to ask, a little tiny part of my world feels right again for the first time in months.

“What happened to your pants?” Paige asks. Check.

“Oh, I thought everyone knew. Nate’s incontinent. He pissed himself on the way over here,” I say, tipping the water bottle enough to spill down the back of his jeans, but behind him, so no one really sees while we’re standing in line. He doesn’t flinch, but instead, stands there perfectly still while I soak his pants. Checkmate.

“Yep, totally pissed myself. Just gonna have to sit in my urine all day I guess. Who’s hungry?” he says, flipping up an apple and lodging it in his teeth while he grabs a tray and moves down the line in his dripping wet pants. Cass and Paige stare at him, completely lost over what just happened, and Ty laughs and shakes his head, grabbing a tray to follow his brother.

Nate is the challenger I always wanted, and I like him more than I thought I did. I like him more than I should. And a little part of me is okay with that.

Chapter 9

Nate

“Cass, pleeeeeeaase just trust me. Rowe will be totally okay with this. Just let me do it.” I’ve been pleading with Rowe’s roommate for the last twenty minutes. I loved seeing that side of Rowe, the side that jokes and smiles, and doesn’t take things seriously. I went to bed thinking about it. I woke up thinking about it. I thought about it through my two morning classes. And now I’m here, standing in her room with her dresser drawer in my hand.

“Uuuuuugh! Fine! But don’t get me involved in this stupid war you have going with her. If she asks, I had nothing to do with this, okay?” Cass grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulders to go to class. I salute her and cross my heart; she sighs again before she turns around.

“You love me, and you know it,” I shout over my shoulder as she’s about to leave.