Page 6 of No Way Home
But then, for the first time in a year, his expression softened. A tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. I wanted to hug him. Just hold on and not let him leave. My musclesscreamed for it. But he was stiff. Rigid. Hands balled into fists at his side. And I knew that was a bad idea.
Finally, his wet eyes met mine again—so green they looked like emerald sea glass. “I have to,” he said in a hush. Then he shook his head, erasing that statement. “Ineedto.” He wiped his cheeks, flicking tears from his hands. He rolled his jaw, trying to get control. “I love you, too.”
Then he turned and walked out the door.
As it closed behind him, I loathed myself. Loathed every quality I possessed that got under his skin. I’d scrape every one of them away until I was a different person if it would make him stay.
But mostly, I loathed the day I ever met Magnolia Wren Hollis.
Chapter Two
BOWEN
THE DAY BOWEN MET MAGNOLIA WREN HOLLIS
THE LAST NIGHT OF FRESHMAN ORIENTATION
“Guys, this way! Girls, that way!”A dude wearing a bright orange UVA polo and navy khakis shouted, motioning like an air traffic controller with glow sticks.
Walking next to a brick building I didn’t know the name of yet, I scratched the back of my neck. “I dunno about this.”
“What’s there to know?” my best friend, Fletcher, asked. “It’s a no-brainer. You get a guaranteed date with a guaranteed kiss at the end.” He cuffed me on the shoulder. “C’mon, man. What’s the point of going to the best party school in the state if you’re going to hole up in your dorm room and never have any fun?”
Griff and Cash would argue that Virginia Tech was the best party school in the state, but all the people carrying solo cups into the building only proved Fletcher’s point.
We’d become friends in sixth grade when we bonded over architecture. Okay, fine, it was Minecraft. But if I couldn’t prove to him I was here for a good time as well as an education, he was going to dump me as his prospective roommate.
Iwantedto have a good time. I just didn’t know if it was possible. Not when every handshake carried the weight of a family reputation.
Two brunettes wearing daisy dukes walked past. “Three girls in my sorority met their husbands at Serendipity Night,” one said to the other. “What do you think they’ll do this year to match people up? Pick a shoe? Wristbands with numbers? Fortune cookie pairing?”
The shorter of the two glanced over. Her gaze snagged on mine, recognition flickering there.
I turned so she couldn’t see my face.
“We could skip the picking process,” Fletch called after them. “Just pair up right now.”
One of the girls huffed. “In your dreams, loser.” I heard them walk away.
I peeked back to make sure it was safe to turn around.
Fletch acted like that hadn’t happened. “I’m telling you. Tonight is going to be one of the best nights we’ve had in years. I can feel it.”
I’d needed a great night for a long time. But I knew better than to get my hopes up when girls were involved.
As soon as we were through the doors of the building, a guy motioned for us to huddle in before sending the next group in the opposite direction, down a different hall.
After we crammed in, he started giving instructions. “Hope you got your pedicures because this year’s Serendipity Night is called Sole Mates. S-O-L-E.”
Fletch swore under his breath.
I couldn’t help it; I snorted. “Good luck, Bilbo Baggins.” He had the hairiest feet I’d ever seen.
He shot me a look.
Homeboy in charge continued, “Listen carefully. Rule number one:noreal names. You have to earn those. If you make it all the way through the night and get your kiss, then and only then, can you and your lucky lady exchange names.”
“Who’s going to know?” someone hollered from the back.
