I do a selfie of me sticking my tongue out and send it. “I love you,” I say.

“If you did, you’d go skiing.” She sighs. “You’ve never once brought a girl home for me to decide if she’s good enough. If you’re gay, it’s okay.”

“Stop messing around.” I laugh. “I’m not—”

“One of my doctors is gay. So is one of the firemen in town. Super masculine and quite the hottie. Rae had a little crush on him until she met Jagger.” She pauses. “Jagger is moving to Manhattan in January. He got a job at a financial company, and it’s a great opportunity. Did she tell you?”

Jagger is my sister’s fiancé, and they’re getting married in May. I like him a lot, especially the way he treats Callie. When Rae got pregnant, Callie’s bio dad moved to Florida and has nothing to do with them. Rae and Callie have been living with Mom ever since. I just assumed they’d live close to Mom after they were married—but Manhattan is five hours away.

Uneasiness hits. “No, she didn’t. Who’s going to be there to help take care of—”

“Well, it just came about, so don’t give her a hard time about it. She’s worried and I don’t want her to be. She wants to commute between here and New York and that’s just crazy. She needs to get on with her life, and I don’t need someone here twenty-four seven, River. I’m okay! You, however, are on my bad list. No gifts for you. I’m putting dead goldfish in your stocking.”

I bark out a laugh. “I didn’t mean to kill Rae’s goldfish, Mom. I was five and thought they needed a bath.”

“With dish soap. Ten dead fish I had to replace before your sister saw it.”

I laugh. “You’re the best mom in the world.”

She really is.

“God, I love you,” she says as she exhales. “I do have bad moments, but I also have great ones. It’s a mixed bag, okay? Every breath is a gift. I want to see you happy, River. Sometimes, I feel like I’m losing out on memories that I used to have. Which is why I want you to walk in my door after going down that mountain. I need to see that look of serenity in your eyes. Just go fucking skiing. See, you made me say the F word.” She sighs. “I’m feisty tonight.”

My eyes shut, my heart torn.

It’s just a three-day trip, plus she’s only a few hours away… “I’ll go, Mom.”

She shrieks her reply, and I chuckle.

After getting off the phone with her, I crank my truck, just as Donovan walks out of the apartment lobby and heads to his Tesla. I wait for him to pull out, then follow. He’s going to the Kappa house, and I still need to pick up my laundry before I head to my house.

Humming “Apple Bottom Jeans,” I tap my fingers on my knee. A smile flits over my face at the memory of Anastasia dancing. Then, I remember how I let things slide by showing up at her door. It felt like fate meant for me to see her. She left her book and then there was the pan at the house. It made perfect sense to drive to her place and ask her to help me with the paper.

Right, keep telling yourself that.

Donovan turns on Greek Row but doesn’t pull in at the Kappa house, instead driving slowly down to the Delta house. Frowning, I ease back on the accelerator and follow him. He parks and I do a loop and come back, pulling in at the Theta house next door.

I watch as he exits the car, his head down, the streetlight accentuating the harried look on his face. He takes the steps and knocks. Audrey answers and widens the door for him, but he shakes his head. She leaves and he paces the porch, then Harper appears at the door and rushes out to him. She encircles him in a hug, but he disentangles her and picks back up pacing.

His arms move excitedly as he talks, and when I catch a flash of his face, he’s frowning. Okay, okay, this is good. He’s cutting her off, doing the whole No more coffee dates and Leave me alone so I can focus on my girlfriend thing.

Right?

I heard him loud and clear in the basement. The world disappears when I kiss her.

Harper walks toward him, her face beseeching. She puts her arms around his shoulders. He pushes her away and scrubs his face.

Harper pounces at him and presses her lips to his—and my stomach rolls. His arms flail around, unsure what to do. She grabs his ass, and he leans into her, his arms going around her as they kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

Fuck, no, Donovan. Don’t do it, don’t do it. Don’t hurt Anastasia.

DO IT. DO IT.

Hurt your Ana, break her heart, let go of the best girl you’ve ever held, let her slip right through your fingers—

Donovan jerks away, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He says loud words I can’t hear, then flips around and fast-walks to his car, gets inside. He looks pissed. I sit there, watching Harper, the defiant set of her shoulders, the determined expression on her face.

I know that look. It says, I’ll do whatever it takes to get him.

Why did he come here?

What the hell is he trying to prove?

Why isn’t he with Anastasia?

Another thought sneaks in. What am I willing to do to get what I want?

“You can’t,” I snarl into the night. “Let. Her. Go.”

Yeah? Yeah? the dark side of me whispers.

Aren’t you sick of waiting?

On Wednesday, I follow her to the elevator. We don’t speak. She walks into class ahead of me and takes her regular seat. I take my seat behind her and watch like I always do. I stare hard, wondering if she feels it. When she talks in class, I hang on every word. When she plays with her hair, twisting the strands, my fingers twitch. As soon as class is over, without a glance over her shoulder at me or Benji, she dashes out of the lecture hall.

Thank fuck. I don’t want to be near her.

I hate how she makes me feel.

By the time Friday rolls around, my resolve has stalled and rolled off a cliff. I dreamed about her. Nothing sexual (thank you for small mercies), but a replay of our conversation in her kitchen, her hands touching my lips, her goofy questions, the way she rambled about her childhood.

I wait in the lobby for her to arrive then trail her to the elevator.

There’s nothing wrong with it. Just don’t touch.

She gets on and I follow, my eyes on my phone.

Pretending.

I’m cool.

I’m cool.

She’s wearing a tight green dress that hugs her curves and hits a few inches below her ass. Black tights are on her legs. Heeled thigh-high boots on her feet. Her lavender hair is down, long and straight as it brushes her back.

My throat dries.

I shift around in the small space, easing the thickness in my jeans.

Her lips are a deep red, a hint that she’s in a ‘mood.’ I recall one of her moods. She and Donovan had a tiff at the house once because she brought Lila and Colette to a party. I happened to overhear it when I walked past his room. I watched her storm out, slam his door, then jerk out her lipstick and roll it on her full lips. Then, she stomped away. Lipstick is her armor when things are going to hell.

She huffs and slaps the button for our floor then sends me a long look, or I think she does, based on the reflection in the mirrored walls. She picks up her phone. “Hey, you.” She laughs low and husky, the sound skating down my spine. “You did? Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush. Oh? A big one? You’re teasing me.” Her voice lowers. “You should get dressed. I know, I know, it’s hard. Okay, I have to go. Class. Bye, baby boy.”