HALLE

IN THE MONTHS HENRY AND I have been friends, I’ve never been as nervous to see him as I am today.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to see him—I’m always excited to see him—

but the nerves are an addition today when they’ve never been there before. I oIered to meet him in the library instead of either of our houses. The library feels like neutral territory, and it also reduces the chance of us becoming distracted.

I waited at his house for an hour after he went upstairs yesterday just in case he woke up and wanted me to be there. I could tell from the moment Robbie and Russ greeted us in the kitchen that I’d made a mistake. When Aurora called Russ, it was Robbie who said that Henry needed to know his friends are around him. He’s known him so much longer than I have, so I trusted he knew what was right for him—even if my gut was telling me it didn’t feel like the right choice for Henry.

It’s a lesson learned, I suppose. I was so worried about telling Robbie he was wrong, potentially having him see me as an interference, that I didn’t prevent Henry from becoming upset. Even if there weren’t tears or shouting, I could tell that things weren’t right immediately.

I was 1dgeting on the spot, nervous, not knowing how to interject with a more suitable plan, and I brushed his hand by accident, and I’ve never been madder at myself. That was his tipping point, I think. The step too far for someone exhausted and overstimulated. I knew it was unlikely we’d get anything done, and that’s why I suggested Robbie see if any exceptions could be made.

Thornton gave me an extension last year when I was unwell, so there’s no reason Henry couldn’t get one, too, under the circumstances.

I’m thankful we have today to have a do-over. Henry has done so well this semester, and our system works; we just need to make sure after I do my bit, he does his bit.

My nerves caused me to leave the house early and I’ve been sitting at this table at the far end of the library with two hot chocolates from the cafe for twenty minutes. Even with twenty minutes of waiting, I still don’t know how to greet him when he gets here or if I should bring up last night. My gut is telling me to let him lead the conversation, that way I’m not going to accidentally cross a line.

Another ten minutes have passed before I see auburn curls poking out of the rim of a Titans beanie.

“Sorry I’m late. Didn’t want to come,” he says, placing his bag on the table and getting out his laptop. He pulls out the chair beside me and kisses the top of my head before taking the seat.

Ouch. “I’m sorry you had to in that case,” I say as carefully as I can, trying not

to let that sliver of hurt show in my voice.

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his 1ngers and sighs. “I didn’t mean that.”

Thankfully in my thirty minutes of obsessing over how to act and waiting, I reread the material we’re working with today to jog my memory so maybe we can get this done quickly. “You did and that’s okay if it’s how you feel. You don’t have to 1lter yourself for me. Should we get this over with then?”

“Halle,” he says softly, and the tenderness in his voice makes me dissolve into nothing. I feel how drained he is simply from how my name tumbles out of his mouth. He pulls my seat closer to him and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I said it wrong. I didn’t want to have to face you after yesterday. I feel embarrassed about inviting you over then disappearing without saying anything. I’ve been in the studio and I just procrastinated leaving. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Being embarrassed is breaking a rule, Henry. You’re allowed to do what your body tells you to do. Instincts are instincts for a reason. You needed alone time, that’s it. No big deal.”

He sits back in his seat and my body craves his touch again. “It feels like my brain doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to sometimes. I try my best to work against it but sometimes it wins.”

“Your brain creates the most beautiful artwork and says things to me that make me feel so safe and so cared for. Your brain makes you a friend people like Russ can rely on. Rory told me how responsible you are for bringing him out of his shell. And Nathan trusts you to look out for his girlfriend when he’s away, an

—”

“And I’ve hardly talked to her. What kind of friend does that make me?” “The phone works both ways, Henry,” I say, internally gagging when I realize

how much I sound like my mom right now. “You’re going through a stressful time and she can check in with you, too. You’re both equally responsible. But my point is, you and your brain that you say you’re 1ghting are so special. You say it doesn’t work properly and I don’t know anything about that, but I know that the things you see as diIerences to everyone else make you who we all care so much about.”

“Have you been practicing that speech while you’ve been waiting for me?”

I smile because there’s nothing else I can do when I just carefully navigated trying to tell him how great he is without being too horrendously cringe, and that was his response. “I made it up on the Ry. Are you impressed?”

“It’s not the best speech I’ve heard, but I acknowledge your eIorts.”

I want to kiss him but I’m kind of scared to touch him, so I lean in on the assumption he’ll do the rest if he wants to. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how to make you feel better yesterday. I’m sorry you’re here when you don’t want to be.”

He leans in, too, his face so close to mine I can smell his cologne. “You’re apologizing again.”

“And I’m not going to stop until this work is done.”

“My body feels really oversensitive today, so I’m not going to kiss you even though I really like it when I do. I also don’t want to get kicked out for heavy petting in the library.”

I’m about to tell him that nobody says heavy petting anymore until he turns

and points to a sign on the wall that literally says it. “If we get this 1nished in the

next two hours, I can come to your coach’s o ce with you. I only have class this afternoon.”

I fear I might have gone too far, but he smiles and nods. “That’d be nice.”

IT’S NOT UNTIL WE’RE ON our way that I realize I’m so unathletic that I don’t even know where the sports building is.

Henry explained it’s a little like an evil lair occupied by multiple supervillains and he normally avoids it at all costs. He apparently got locked in there for two hours with his coach after the door jammed when he was a freshman and he’s never recovered.

Campus is fairly quiet as we stroll across it toward Henry’s meeting, but the calm doesn’t stop me from worrying that he’s worrying about his meeting. I decided that distraction might be my best method. “How did you end up being a hockey player? Why not football or baseball or, I don’t know, chess?”

“My uncle Miles played hockey until he went to med school. He’s technically my biological dad, so I guess I inherited his talent. He’s been my mama’s best friend since high school, then they all went to the same colleges, so they’re all close. My mama grew up playing diIerent sports, so she wanted me to 1nd something I liked as well.”

“Did he teach you to play?” I ask.

“Yeah. He’s the person who taught me repeatedly that I can be better than anyone in the room if I want to be. He got me my 1rst skates. Took me to my 1rst game. Signed me up for youth league. I became a bit obsessed, the way I do with things I like. My mom was happy that I was working in a team since I also liked creative things but would only do them alone.”

A mental image of little Henry playing kids’ hockey Rashes through my mind. “Does Miles live in Maple Hills? Does he have any kids of his own now?”

Henry takes my hand and pulls me gently to move me out the way of someone texting and walking. His 1ngers thread through mine and he doesn’t let go. “He lived here when I was younger, but he went back to Texas. His mom got sick so now he teaches at a college there. I usually see him a few times a year.

I’ve never known him to even date anyone, so he doesn’t have any kids. He’s a good guy; I think you’d like him. He reads a lot of books.”

“Reading books is de1nitely the best hobby a person can have.” Henry nudges me with his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “I bet he’s proud you’re where you are now.”

“Walking across campus holding hands with a hot girl? Probably.” Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh, you’ve got jokes now, huh.” “I wasn’t joking.”

“I meant the fact you’re the captain of your team.” “For now.”

“Henryyyy.”

“Halleeee,” he says, mimicking me.

“I know you’ll be with your parents this week for Thanksgiving and I’ll be working, but I’m going to come to your game on the weekend. I’ll 1nd a way to move my shift around or leave early or something. I want to be there when you get oI the ice,” I say. “I’m going to wear your jersey and scream your name.”

“Can you not make me hard before I go into this meeting, please?” I choke slightly. “Maybe wait to see if Faulkner kicks me oI the team before you start moving things around.”

“You know that isn’t going to happen.”

He looks across to me as we stop in front of a building I’ve never seen before. “Do I?”

Henry holds the door open for me and ushers me to a bench inside the lobby. “Be honest with him, please. Whatever he wants to talk to you about, tell him you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

MY E-READER HAS HARDLY EVEN warmed up by the time Henry reappears. I look at my phone and he’s only been gone ten minutes.

“All good?” I ask cautiously.

“Yes. You can inconvenience your colleagues,” he says, like I’m not desperately waiting to 1nd out what this whole thing has been about.

“What did he say? You were really fast.”

“He said, ‘Are you okay?’ and I said, ‘Yeah,’ so he said, ‘You don’t seem okay,’ and I said, ‘I don’t like when we lose,’ and he said, ‘Neither do I, so what’re we going to do about it?’”

“Right…”

“And I said, ‘Win,’ really enthusiastically because he likes enthusiasm, and he said, ‘Good, was yesterday a onetime blip?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ And then he said, ‘You’re allowed to have an oI day. You’re a human, not a robot.’ And I said, ‘Good to know.’ Then he asked me if I’ve registered for spring classes yet and I said, ‘No,’ so he said, ‘Go and do it,’ so I said, ‘Okay.’”

Henry pushes his hands into his pockets and avoids eye contact with me. “So you didn’t tell him you’re scared to let your friends down and you’re struggling to process the tie between the team’s losses and your role as captain, and it’s making you seriously unhappy?”

“No. It didn’t come up,” he says casually.

“Henry, for the love of God, please go back upstairs and tell him how you really feel.”

“We need to leave or you’ll be late for class.”

“Henry,” I borderline plead. “Please tell him you need more support. What if you lose again this weekend? I despise seeing you be so hard on yourself.”

“We won’t lose. You’ll be there and you’re my lucky charm. It’s a scienti1c fact.”

“Henry, that isn’t how science works. I feel like I don’t tell you how annoying you are enough,” I grumble, walking under his arm as he holds the door open for me. We’re leaving the sports building but it’s reluctantly on my part even if it’s not on his. “Me being at your games is not a great strategy for success.”

“You’re the only person who 1nds me annoying. Everyone else 1nds me adorable.”

Slowly, the Henry I’m used to starts to move to the surface. He still looks worn out but he feels closer than he did before. “You’re a menace. I don’t know where anyone is getting adorable from.”

Hottest guy at this school, yes. Adorable? Not quite.

“To my friends I’m like the younger brother they have to keep alive and out of trouble. You have an audio clip of me making you come on your phone. Very diIerent type of relationship.”

I’m surprised I don’t fall to the ground. I’m positive my knees wobble a little. “Oh my God, you can’t just throw that out there in the middle of a conversation while there are people around us.”

He looks around at the one—maybe two—people within listening distance who are clearly not paying attention to us as we all walk in the same direction. “Why not? We haven’t talked about it since it happened. I wondered if I’d imagined it because I expected you to bring it up. Have you listened to it?”

“Henry, is this seriously what you want to talk about right now? After how you’ve been feeling, this is what you want to discuss?”

“I’ll talk about literally anything if it stops you from talking to me about hockey.”

“I’m trying to help you get the support you so desperately need.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Have you listened to it?” He looks at me and smirks. “Why are you blushing?”

I take another look around us and conclude people de1nitely aren’t listening to us. I lower my voice anyway. “Because you’re asking me about masturbating while you walk me to class.”

“I didn’t. I asked you if you’d listened to it. You’re making assumptions about what I think you’re doing to yourself while you moan my name on that clip.”

“I hate you.”

“Do you hate me enough to not want to make more?”

I don’t know if this is entirely false bravado considering how bad he’s been feeling, and if he’s doing that thing he does where he pretends that he’s okay. Or if he just really likes getting under my skin and it’s genuinely improving his mood.

Of course I’ve listened to that audio. If this was the olden days, I’d have literally burned out the tape. It’s the single most erotic experience of my life and I have it recorded. I don’t know what’s so hot about it other than the fact it’s Henry. I’ve been using audio apps for a while and there’s nothing on there that even comes close to how good this is.

Nothing else has happened between us since then other than, as the library sign would say, heavy petting, and lots of cold showers.

And listening to the audio clip with my vibrator, obviously.

Maybe it’s because it makes me feel powerful in an area of my life that I haven’t felt powerful in before. Maybe it made me feel desired and satis1ed and happy.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s Henry Turner.

“I’ve listened to the clip, Henry. In bed. In the bath. When I’m supposed to be studying.”

We reach my building and he holds open the door for me. “And what’s your professional review?”

“Professional review? Eleven out of ten. EGOT status pending for an excellent performance.”

“Thank you to the Academy in that case,” he says.

It’s a lot busier here than it was outside, which massively reduces my willingness to discuss what I’m doing when I’m home alone. I don’t know if I just watched too many college shows when I was growing up, but it really does feel like everyone notices Henry as we walk by. His posture stiIens, face hardens. It tells me it’s not just in my head, and perhaps the idea of being perceived isn’t what he wants right now.

“Hey, my room is right round this corner. Why don’t you head out? It’s super busy here today.”

“Okay,” he says. “Thanks. I’m pretty tired, so I might not be around later, but I’ll speak to you tomorrow?”

“Thank you for telling me that. Yeah, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t hesitate to get himself away from this hallway and I can’t blame him, because people de1nitely seem to watch him leave the way they watched him arrive. Nobody pays attention to me as soon as he’s gone, and when I sit down in class, thinking far too much about the audio on my phone, Aurora drops herself into the seat beside me. “I hope you’re in the mood to hear me complain about Chaucer.”

Consider my mood o cially killed.