It's Tuesday.

I am supposed to meet Harry in the library tonight. I haven't seen him since I darted out of his room early yesterday morning, stealing his shirt in the process.

I've been panicking someone will find out, but so far Olivia is still the only one who saw us kissing. She has kept her word. Her lips remain sealed. I may have told Nikki about the kiss and subsequent midnight tea party. She may have flipped out. It crosses my mind that if Nikki knows, Jake probably knows now. And I don't know how I feel about that.

Lucy knows too, which means Darren most likely knows. Who knows whom Darren told?

Harry is no longer flying under the radar. It's very common knowledge that he is staying off campus in a nearby hotel. Everyone is aware Gilded Rage is performing at the Sweetheart Single. Ticket sales are through the roof.

To hype up the event, the school created a sort of scavenger/treasure hunt competition. There are boxes of conversation hearts hidden all over campus. One lucky box contains two tickets to Harry's concert in Boston on Saturday night. A show he's already told me he'll get me into...

I walk out of East Hall with Carter at my side. Classes are over and I only have one thing on my mind.

"Enjoy the work out! That's happening now, right?" Carter asks, trying to conceal his laughter.

"Yes, don't remind me. I'm heading there in about twenty minutes. I'll text you after. If I survive." I wave to Carter, parting ways at the Fork once again.

"Okay, see ya!"

I make haste back to my dorm and change into my pre-selected outfit for my gym date with Shawn.

Nikki had a fit when I told her about my workout date with Shawn. She begged me to wear her hot pink sports bra with matching leggings. She brought it over after class and held it up for me. Besides the fact that it looks like a scantily barely-there bra, it's also not me.

I can't believe I agreed to let Shawn talk me into going to the gym with him. I sure won't be caught dead in a wannabe influencer outfit!

Instead, I spent the morning digging through the laundry bins in the back of my closet. The ones I barely touch. I found a pair of old high school gym shorts, black mesh with a white drawstring. I pull on a baggy gray T-shirt. It's loose enough, but the hem is cut so it's not longer than my shorts. I don't want it to look like I'm wearing a dress.

My legs freeze like two popsicles as I walk across the mall to the student gym. It's positively freezing outside! I now have a new appreciation for all the girls (and guys) I see prancing around in gym attire like it's no big deal.

Shawn is waiting out front for me, hands in his pockets, headphones in, and leaning against the wall with effortless chill.

I instantly warm up when I see him.

"Hi, Ellie," he grins.

"Hey," I bite my lip and shuffle my feet awkwardly, as if I am just now realizing how bare my legs are. Not bare like cold, but bare like naked. These high school gym shorts are almost up my ass!

Nikki would be proud.

"Let's get inside," Shawn says, holding open the door.

I've been in the gym before, though admittedly not by choice. My Interpretative Dance class had some practical lessons in the ballet studio upstairs last semester. That's the closest I've ever come to using the gym.

Shawn swipes his student ID through the door inside and steps back for me to enter his holy land: the gym.

We hang our coats at the door and I'm relieved to find it almost empty. Must not be peak workout time. Less of an audience is best for me.

I see treadmills and weight benches and other equipment I don't know the names of, but nod like I know them when Shawn lists them all.

"What's your usual routine?" I ask, eyeing the treadmill with extreme caution.

"Depends on if it's a cardio day or lifting day. Or if we have practice or training that day." He talks like he's talking to a kindergartener. At least Shawn knows his audience.

"Gotcha," I nod. "So, what about today's routine?"

"I figured we could just run?" He both suggests and asks, waiting for my consent.

"Oh," I squeak, trying to mask my relief. "Sure."

It may not be my strong suit, but it beats trying to lift weights or work one of these other contraptions.

"Follow me," he says.

Shawn walks us over to the row of ellipticals (you learn something new every day) in front of the window. We climb onto the machines, which give us a nice view of the walkway out front of the SAC.

"Best spot for people watching, just wait." He tells me, already peering through the windows.

"I do all my watching in the library," I admit. I do love seeing everyone come and go, observing them quietly, like I'm a side character in a book I'm reading.

I turn on the elliptical, carefully watching Shawn press buttons on his. About four minutes in, I decide it's not so bad. At least I can set my own pace, unlike on a treadmill.

Shawn and I watch people come and go through the SAC doors. We talk about his gym life and his favorite work outs. At least five different people come up and say hi to Shawn. I am comforted that he doesn't seem embarrassed to be seen with me or annoyed to be introducing me to all his athlete friends.

It's sort of nice seeing Shawn in his element. And nice seeing him all sweaty, even if I know I look like a mess!

"What?" He asks, catching me looking at him sideways.

"What do you mean what?" I quickly defend my staring.

"You're staring," he teases.

"I was just thinking –Don't laugh –But this reminds me of Ms. Holly's gym class." I think back to the middle school gym class Shawn and I shared about a decade ago.

"Miss Holly's?" He laughs cheekily. "I don't remember doing ellipticals in gym class."

"No, but you. Working out, in gym shorts. Brings back memories is all," I shrug.

"I don't know why you don't come to the gym more often. You're a natural," Shawn says, glancing at my stats on the elliptical screen.

"Okay, let's not go that far," I joke.

"Maybe we could make it a regular date," he suggests.

"You want to be what? My trainer?" I frown.

"No, no. Of course not," he says, shaking his head. "I just like spending time with you. Outside of lunch or overcrowded house parties," he grins.

"Oh," I blush.

"Plus, you're a lot better company than Andre and Joe." Shawn grins casually.

"They're not so bad," I laugh.

Shawn and I "work out" for another twenty minutes or so before he finally says it's enough for today and he's got to head back to his off campus house to meet the guys.

"Look, sorry if I freaked you out at the party with the near-kiss thing," Shawn says, tilting his head sideways. "Figured I'd go for it. But we hadn't really decided anything, so I felt bad about it. Then you ran and I didn't see you again."

"It was fine. I shouldn't have run. I panicked," I say. I find it odd for Shawn to bring this up now of all times!

It's the truth. I should have just let Shawn kiss me. We could have spent the last week together and everything would be fine. Everything would be safe.

"You panicked? You never panic." Shawn looks skeptical.

"I know. I just–" I bite my lip. He looks so cute and it's so comfortable with him and what is wrong with me?!

Just as we reach the entrance to the locker rooms downstairs, Shawn puts a hand on my waist and pulls me in, sweaty T-shirt and all. He kisses me full on the lips before I even know what's happening. I taste his lips on mine, fresh and salty and warm.

He's grinning casually when he finally breaks apart.

"Thanks for the work-out. I'll text ya later, Ellie," Shawn says on his way out the door.

"Bye." I blurt out stupidly.

I say goodbye to him in the lobby, somehow agreeing to do this again, before turning around and darting into the women's locker room. I splash cold water on my face to cool myself down.

I glance at myself in the mirror, at the flush red in my cheeks, the messy hair flying out of my ponytail, and the sweaty T-shit. I actually feel accomplished. They do say exercising makes people happier. They may be onto something.

All the way back to my dorm, I wonder if the lasting effect of bliss was from the workout, or from the hour plus spent alone with Shawn.

Maybe both.

...

It's late and I've spent the last hour sitting in the library lounge with Harry, curled up on the couch, drinking cappuccino, and sharing stories of our favorite books. While he's read The Great Gatsby, he finds it to be too American. He prefers Brontë, like every true Brit. We agree Hemingway was both insane and genius.

The whole time I can't help but think about Jake and his tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye.

Harry and I exchange our travel bucket lists, and share which eras we'd want to visit or live in if given the chance. We seem to understand each other without using words. It's not friendship like with Shawn. It's not arguing like with Jake. It's just Harry.

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Harry asks, his hand on my waist.

"Yes, it's almost midnight. It's a school night," I whisper, though I know no one else is left in the library.

"Well, at least I got my shirt back." Harry grins. "But it sure looked better on you."

"Stop it," I tell him, blushing.

"I'll walk you back?" He asks, his hand still holding mine.

I nod.

We leave the library and find the grounds covered in fresh snow. No surprise there. A group of kids trek across the mall lawn. They seem to be stopping every few feet and looking into the bushes and under benches. Looking for candy hearts, I bet. Harry and I walk back to my dorm hall, and I swipe my card. I'm reminded, painfully, of the time Jake walked me back after my bookstore paper run all those days ago.

"This is me," I mumble.

My key is in my hand. I could invite him in. Lord only knows where Tasha is. I want to invite him in –to continue our conversation on literature and travel and existential dreams. But I don't think I can.

I have an unanswered text from Shawn, who has been my friend for years. I can't stop thinking about the last thing Jake said to me. I don't know who I'm becoming, but I know I can't invite a hot musician into my dorm room!

"Goodnight, Elle." Harry whispers against my lips.

I let him kiss me. I let him consume me one last time. Who knows when we will kiss again? If we will kiss again...

I turn the knob and find an empty room greets me. Tasha's laptop is still open and plugged in, the green light on the charger casting a weird glow on the ceiling. I flip on the white lights outlining our walls and find my make up case and toothbrush. I fly through my nightly routine without thinking. I change into my PJs and crawl into bed. I finally open my phone and reread the text from Shawn.

Dinner one night b4 dance :)

It's already Wednesday night. All we have is tomorrow. Then it's Friday. And Friday is the dance. I have two papers due Friday. I can't meet for dinner tomorrow, but I wonder if Shawn will settle for lunch.

Papers due. Lunch or dinner 2morrow?

I hit send.

It's late, so he is probably already asleep. I put my phone down and try to turn off my mind. The green glow on the ceiling reminds me of Gatsby's light. Gatsby's hope. What are you doing, Elle? This isn't me. I don't focus on boys. I focus on books. Classes. Grades! I don't do late-night texts or boys walking me to my dorm or kissing them in the library. The library is a sacred kiss-free zone!

Dreams come. I'm on the edge of a dock, staring at a light. It comes into view and it's a heat lamp. My feet crunch on the ground. I look down and turns out I'm standing on a mountain of candy heart boxes. Glitter is everywhere. Harry starts singing. A bell starts tolling. Jake is wearing Shawn's letterman jack and holding up a condom gram.