Page 15 of Breakaway Goal

“Nah, I got it this time,” he drawls as he takes his change and drops the coins and a one-dollar bill into the tip jar. “You can pay next time we eat together.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You always say that and then never let me.”

With a wry grin, he just shrugs. We walk over to one of the picnic tables set up near the food trucks and wait for our order to be called.

“By the way,” I begin, “Jasmine said she never let you into our room to leave that album. So how the hell did you get in?”

His eyebrows wiggle. “You expect a magician to reveal his secrets?”

As his tawny eyes twinkle mischievously, I roll my own. “Jasmine probably just forgot to lock the door.”

“Nope, it was locked,” Rhys retorts in a taunting singsong.

“Then how—whatever.” He’s just messing with me. Right?

The food truck calls our order, and Rhys retrieves it. For the next several minutes, our conversation halts as we dig into the nachos.

Yeah, these are exactly what I was in the mood for. The nachos are crispy and salty, the chicken is tender, the cheese is gooey, and the jalapenos add just the right kick.

“Regretting your choice to split one order?” I joke to Rhys as he’s already done his portion before I’m even halfway through mine.

Hunger gleams in his eyes as he looks at my half of the plate. “Right now, yeah. But when I’m not throwing up after practice, I’ll be thankful for my wisdom.”

I scoop up another nacho while Rhys twists open his peach tea, a favorite flavor we’ve shared for years, and takes a big swig.

“So, how was your first week as an art major?” he asks.

I swallow my mouthful of food, and it’s an extra hard one because I’m also swallowing down the disappointment over the true answer to that question.

The classes have been fine. Better than fine. I’m enjoying the material a lot. But I still haven’t gotten over the cold feet that my social anxiety gives me and taken even the first step toward making friends in my department.

“Pretty good,” I answer. I don’t count it as a fib, because the classes themselves really have been going well.

The set of Rhys’s jaw gets a touch more rigid. “Hm,” is the skeptical sound that rumbles from his throat.

I pop another cheese-and-chicken-covered nacho into my mouth, hoping to just move past the topic, but Rhys is drilling me with hisI see right through your bullshitgaze. He doesn’t lift the weight of those piercing amber eyes off me for a second, not even to blink.

I swallow. “What?”

“Don’t youpretty goodme, Maddie Larsen.” A tightness twists in my stomach at the way he uses my first and last name. “You think I can’t tell when you’re bullshitting me?”

“Theyaregoing pretty good!” I protest.

“But,” Rhys leads.

I square my shoulders to defend myself, but they immediately roll and sink. Who am I kidding? All my ability to fib to Rhys Callahan is used up by the effort it takes to make sure he doesn’t suspect that I think of him as anything other than a good friend. Beyond that, I’ve never been able to hide anything from him.

“Well, I just kind of hoped I’d make more friends with my art classmates than I have so far.”

The set of Rhys’s jaw becomes harder. His brow lowers. “Why? Are they being jerks to you?”

The way Rhys immediately launches into protective mode makes me laugh. It also makes me feel more tingly lower in my core than I’d care to admit.

“No, nothing like that,” I say quickly. “Just … you know.” I sigh. “You know me, it’s hard for me to talk to people I don’t know sometimes. Especially since I’m not taking the beginner classes. Most of my classmates have already been art majors for a year or more, and it’s like everyone else knows everyone else already. I feel like the odd girl out.”

The edges of my lips curve to a frown. Suddenly, it feels like there’s an insurmountable barrier between me and being able to have the kind of semester I want. It feels like I’ve already ruined my college experience thanks to the way last year turned out, and there’s nothing I can do to turn it around.

My spirits are quickly sinking into a quicksand of depression, when Rhys pulls my attention back to him by snapping his figures.

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