Page 30 of Left on Read

At that moment, a fist raps on the hood of my car.

I jump high enough that my head actually smacks the ceiling. Thankfully it’s padded. My brain is kind of important to me.

As I rub the ache forming in my skull, I see Hayes standing there. He leans against the side of the car, like he’s waiting for me.

“But you have to be careful. What he did hurt you so badly when youdidn’tlike him. Imagine what he could do to you if he knew you felt something soft for him.”

I’m so startled by Esha’s words and the pounding in my head and the way Hayes is looking at me that I don’t even answer.

“Morning, Novella!” he yells.

OfficialEndeavourHigh:JacobsHR: Please tell me none of you are the reason I have to give a speech about library study rooms.

We walk to class together. I don’t think we’ve ever done that before. He’s usually sitting slumped over our table when I get there. (It happens often enough that I’ve started debating whether or not he actually sleeps at school.)

But today, he ambles along next to me. Why?

When we reach the lecture building, Hayes holds the door open for me with his entire body. As I pass him, he grins at me. I’ve come to prefer this real smile to his sly smirk. It still takes up his whole face, and it’s still devastatingly effective, but that smirk will probably always spike my blood pressure … and this grin makes my stomach flip. Makes my brain feel fizzy. All that, plus the heat of him warming up the cold morning, is dizzying.

Almost in slow motion, my hand reaches out as I brush past him, skimming the front of his Endeavour hoodie. My fingertips feel the raised letters over his chest.

But you have to be careful. Imagine what he could do if he knew you felt something soft for him.

And then I’m inside the building, and they must’ve turned the heat on. There’s a rush of fire, and it’s either a cranked furnace or all my blood rushing to my face.

At my side, my right hand stretches out, flexing like my nerves are trying to let go of the electric charge still tingling there. Which nerves control sensation in your fingertips? Hayes probably knows.

Oh, no. I just realized what I did. That was soPride and Prejudice2005-coded. Peak Elizabeth and Darcy. Oh my God. What’s wrong with me?

I look back at Hayes. He’s holding the door open for someone else, nodding in that casual-chin-raise thing guys do. He moved back out of the doorway to let them through. No chest brushing this time.

He turns. I’m watching him; he’s watching me. There’s nothing overt, no particular expression on his face to let me know what he’s thinking about the … touch. No smile, cocky smirk, warm grin, or anything. He blinks twice. Takes a step toward me.

Then he winks.

Oh. Okay.

Well,thatcan hardly be misinterpreted, even by someone as socially clueless as me. I was looking for a sign, some tiny hand-flex of a moment that would let me know something might actually be happening between us … and there it was. Big. Bold. Unmissable.

“Hey!” Someone nudges at my shoulder with their own. It’s one of the college girls who sits behind me in Lowry’s class—Kelsey. I can tell her approach was supposed to be a casual gesture, even if it feels like she put enough force in it to knock me over. I know what this is, though, what’s happening here. This is a thing people do sometimes to start a conversation. To engage with each other.

Ihatebeing randomly touched, though, and I feel a bubble of discomfort growing in my stomach. I know she’s being friendly, but I’m on edge. All my brain carbonation flattens into something bitter. Sour. It ferments into emotional vinegar.

What is she saying? I try to focus. You’re supposed to ground yourself when unexpected things happen. Most people have to do it after something huge, like a car accident or something. For me, all it takes is the slightest unexpected touch.

Okay. Grounding. One thing I can feel: How cold my toes are in the sandals I thought were still seasonably appropriate. One thing I can see: The poster on the wall about the taco truck that’ll be on campus tomorrow. One thing I can hear: This is the hard part. I can’t hear anything but my heartbeat blaring in my ears.

“Yeah, it’s really no problem. Thanks. Can you give us a minute?” All my brain will process is Hayes’s voice. This is a tone he uses in public. Speaking to big groups of people or strangers.

It’s not the voice he uses with me, and it seems like I just realized that now.

Kelsey walks away, and some of the weight melts off my chest.

“Hey,” Hayes mutters. It’s so low it’s almost a whisper. “You okay?”

“I, um … yeah.” I nod, my vision clearing and those vinegary thoughts dissipating. “I think so. I’m sorry, I get kind of weird when I’m not expecting—”

“It’s okay.” He cuts me off, still whispering. And then he smiles. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”