“No.” I tilt my head in the direction of the group of guys nearby. “He’s here.”
“Who? Your man? No way.” She squints in the distance, the breeze ruffling her long, golden brown hair so strands blow across her face. “Which one is he?”
“The dark-haired one on the left.” My gaze lands on him once more, and everything inside of me starts to ache.
“Ooh, he’s cute.” She sends me a look, and I think she’s impressed. “Like, really hot.”
“I know.” I sound smug. I am smug.
Tony is a complete hottie.
“You sure he’s only eighteen?” She stares at him once more.
“That’s what he told me.”
“Hmm. Well, he’s gorgeous. The boys on campus get prettier and prettier every year, I swear. I don’t remember anyone looking like him when we were eighteen. Oh God, they’re headed this way. Get over here.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
“Come sit by me! He might not recognize you if your back is to him.” She pats the empty spot beside her. “Hurry!”
I scramble so awkwardly over the bench in my attempt to move, I almost send myself sprawling on the ground. Luckily enough, I catch myself and move over to her side, sitting right next to her. Pushing my hair out of my face, I go for nonchalant.
Like no big deal. I’ve been sitting like this the entire time.
Gracie rearranges our books so that mine are facing me and hers are more on her side versus all sprawled out. We sit, watching expectantly, as they approach. My heart is racing. My stomach is jittery, and maybe that’s from the coffee I just drank, but maybe not.
Maybe it’s because Tony is finally here.
My instincts were on point.
The group is about to pass by us before one of his friends knocks him in the arm with his fist and points straight at us. They all stop and stare.
“Oh Shit,” Gracie mutters, “They’re looking at us.”
“I know,” I say out of the side of my mouth.
“Dude, they’re all so good looking.” She sounds shocked.
“I know,” I repeat.
They turn and head up the sidewalk toward us, Tony leading the way. His gaze catches mine and he smiles at me.
I smile back, fighting the urge to jump up and tackle-hug him.
“Oooh, he’s smiling at you,” Gracie practically squeals, and I elbow her in the ribs so that she calms down.
Thank God, she does.
“Hayden.” He stops right beside our table, his friends hovering behind him. “Look at you.”
I blink at him, pleased by the tone of his voice. I can tell he’s happy to run into me. “Yeah. Look at you.”
He laughs. “Your hair isn’t usually so straight.” He reaches out and yanks on a strand and I want to giggle like I’m ten.
But I don’t. I keep a straight face.
Barely.