“Who’s messing with you?” Paige says, kicking her shoes off under her bed and hooking her backpack over her desk chair.

“Ty! And Nate! They flipped our dresser drawers,” Cass says with a huff, stuffing her clothes back into her drawers without folding. Paige rushes to her dresser next, biting her lip and waiting for her clothes to spill out. When her drawers are fine, I see the disappointment flood her body, and I feel sad for her.

“Okay, tell me what you girls need me to do. Let’s get those ass**les back,” Paige says. I don’t know if she’s just mad that they left her out of the practical joke war or if she’s just trying to put on a brave face, but for the first time since I’ve met her, I feel a connection with her, so I hold onto it.

“Okay, I have an idea. We’re gonna need a hardware store,” I start, and they both pull up their chairs to listen.

Chapter 10

Nate

Staying away from her room was harder than I thought it would be. I never brought up going to the art gallery, and I avoided accidental run-ins when I could. I didn’t have workouts during the first week of school, but I found myself in the gym anyhow. Coaches liked seeing me there, but I wasn’t there for them. I didn’t need to make an impression—I was their guy, and I knew it. With me on the roster, McConnell was in the mix. Without me, they were a decent team but not good enough to make the series.

Whatever, though—me being here on a non-workout day made me look like a team leader, and I did want to fill that role for the other guys. Even if the only reason I was here was to keep myself busy and away from Rowe.

Ty was with Cass every night. She came over to watch Sports Center with us after dinner, and she’d drop these totally obvious stories about Rowe, taking extra care to say her name nice and clear for me to hear.

It’s not like I was angry with her. Damn, I’d have to understand her for that to be a part of the equation. I guess I was angrier with myself for being so intimidated by her, and those pictures. She couldn’t even look at them, and the way she ran out of her room when I asked her about them made me start to think that she might just have some emotional baggage I’m not equipped for.

“Hey, you about ready to head back?” Ty says, popping his head in while I finish up my last set. Ty does personal training at the campus—he was hired on to work with some of the disabled students initially, but he’s so disciplined that others started requesting him, too. My brother took his rehab seriously when he got out of the hospital, and the dude is probably in better shape than I am.

“One more set. I’ll meet you out front,” I say.

He just nods and leaves me to finish my workout, alone with my thoughts. I could lift a thousand pounds and it still wouldn’t be enough to distract me from thinking about Rowe.

She takes her showers late at night. I heard her in there yesterday while I was taking mine, and I thought about running into her again. But she’d see right through that. Instead, I sat on the locker bench quietly, listening to her sing lightly under her breath. She was putting on an act when she was singing with Cass in her room the other day because I can tell she has the voice of an angel. I bet if she really let herself go, she would surprise the hell out of a lot of people with her voice—she’d probably surprise herself a little, too.

It’s late by the time Ty and I get back to the dorm, and I can hear both of our stomachs rumbling. “Dinner?” I say, turning my key in our lock.

“Yeah. Let me just text Cass. She wanted to come. You mind?”

“Nah,” I say. Honestly, I don’t mind. I like Cass’s company, and I like having the small connection to Rowe. I still want to invite her out with my parents next weekend, but I just feel strange talking to her after the whole picture incident. I think I just need to know what the guy in that picture is to her first.

“What. The. Fuck!” Ty sees it first. It takes me a few minutes to make sure my eyes aren’t tricking me. Our entire bedroom, every square inch of the walls, is pink. The back of the door—pink. The ceiling—pink. And it’s not a subtle pastel. No, our dorm room is Barbie-princess pink!

I have to hand it to her. Rowe is good. I mean, like, really good. This took effort and time, and I know she had help—Ty’s fault for flipping Cass’s dresser. Ty is fuming, but I just start laughing, tossing my gym bag on my bed.

“Dude, this isn’t funny! I f**king hate pink!” My brother is more worked up over his room color than he was about losing a grand in a Super-Bowl bet last year.

“Rowe.” I say, sitting down on my bed and taking everything in. This must have taken three gallons to get it covered so well, and they must have worked on this all day. The paint smell was still fresh. I have to admit, I am pretty damned impressed.