Page 93 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
"What is the point?"
I gesture vaguely at our abandoned homework. "We have no self-control."
"I have plenty of self-control."
"Evidence suggests otherwise."
He grins and pulls me back onto his lap. "Maybe I just don't want self-control when it comes to you."
"That's very smooth, but I actually need to finish this paper."
"Fine." He releases me with exaggerated reluctance. "But for the record, you're very distracting in my t-shirt."
"This is my t-shirt."
"That's definitely my t-shirt."
I look down at the faded hockey shirt I'm wearing. "Oh. Yeah, you're right."
"You're stealing all my shirts."
We do eventually finish our work, fueled by coffee and competitive energy and the knowledge that summer is just a few weeks away. The thought makes me both excited and anxious. Three months without the structure of classes and schedules. Three months of figuring out what we are when we're not defined by the academic calendar.
One afternoon in late April, Maddie and I are having lunch on campus when she drops her bombshell.
"Sirus asked me to spend the summer with him," she says, stabbing at her salad.
I nearly choke on my sandwich. "What?"
"His family has a lake house. He wants me to come for a few weeks." She looks up at me, and I can see the conflict written all over her face. "But that means leaving you alone."
"Maddie, that's amazing. You should totally go."
"But we always spend summers together."
It's true. Every summer since we were kids, Maddie and I have been inseparable. Beach trips, movie marathons, late-night drives to nowhere. The thought of a summer without her feels wrong, but the thought of holding her back feels worse.
"We'll survive," I say, even though my chest feels tight. "Besides, I'll probably be with Cole most of the time anyway."
"Has he asked you to do anything?"
"No, but I'm assuming we'll figure something out."
Maddie reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "Look at us. All grown up with boyfriends and summer plans."
"When did we get so domestic?"
"I blame the hockey players. They've ruined us."
We both laugh, but there's truth underneath it. Not too long ago, I was single and reading romance novels alone in my room. Now I can't imagine my life without Cole in it.
Finals week hits like a truck. I'm running on caffeine and adrenaline, bouncing between exams and presentations and trying to remember what sleep feels like. Cole is in the same boat, but somehow we keep each other sane.
"Just two more days," he says on Wednesday night when I'm having a minor breakdown over my marketing final.
"I'm going to fail."
"You're going to ace it."
