John hadn't texted me back all day which annoyed me. Nobody was entitled to texts from anybody, but I wasn't asking too much. This was clearly connected to his girlfriend.

"It's easier to feel anger than guilt," Jessica had commented, fascinated by her fingernails, when I had mentioned my irritation to her over dinner.

"I don't feel guilty," I had insisted. Her fake-innocent 'mhm-hm' had ticked me off.

Now, almost three hours later, I was still frustrated. With John and with Jessica. Though she would have found a way to suggest I was frustrated with myself. Around 10 pm, I texted Liam to tell him that I'd come to the party after all.

Pushing open my closet door, I rummaged for only a second before throwing on a burgundy lace camisole to match the pair of skinny jeans I was already wearing.

Voter Hall was a minute away from Starr and once I arrived, immediately found the party suite. The windows were lit up in red and blue and the music was blasting through the cracked windows. When I got up to the third floor, a drunk, laughing couple stumbled out of the apartment and left the door open.

The stale scent of beer in the air intensified when I shut the door behind me. The small common area was packed, with people making out in pairs right near the door, making it hard to squeeze past their warm bodies. Not my ideal Friday night, but I also had nothing better to do. A couple of steps into the room, Liam's voice announced his location.

"Grace, you made it!" He stepped forward from a corner and engulfed me in a hug. His breath reflected the beer he'd been drinking, though it couldn't have been more than one. Liam wasn't a big drinker.

"Hey." Not knowing what to do with myself after we broke apart, I scratched my elbow awkwardly, trying to convince myself that going out was exactly what I needed tonight.

"Come on in, it's not great by the door with all these couples hooking up."

You can say that again. In the corner he'd occupied before, I forced smiles and nodded to a few people I knew from class or who were friends' friends. In the meantime, Liam had gotten me a cup of beer which I gratefully accepted. There was a reason why people got shitfaced at suite parties: you couldn't stand them otherwise—both the parties and the people. The soccer pregames were a notable exception.

Pounding pop and reggaeton music blared through the speakers. I barely knew any of the songs, and they weren't my genre. Not that I was expecting them to play folk at a college drinking event, but a little variation on the club tunes might have pleased the musically inclined guests.

I must have looked as underwhelmed as I felt, because Liam shouted over the music: "I told you it'd be lame. That's why I wanted you to come."

"Is it less lame now?" I shouted back, arching my eyebrows.

"No," he admitted and we both laughed. His teeth were a pearly white which shone beautifully against his tan skin.

Right then I spotted John across the room with some of the other soccer guys, effortlessly cool as always, even if he was only wearing a dark gray v-neck t-shirt and jeans. Some of them were dancing ridiculously and drinking out of red solo cups like everybody else, but they still managed to seem better, more popular, more powerful than everybody else. Athletes.

As if he'd sensed my gaze on him, John turned his head and met my eyes, then gave me a small wave and an irresistible smile. Without reciprocating the gesture, I turned away. I didn't care if it was childish, I would not let him weasel his way into my mind tonight.

"Do you want to ditch this so-called party and get some fresh air?" Liam's voice close to my ear reminded me that he was still here. The goosebumps on my arms told me my body was very aware of his proximity.

"Sure." His warm, gentle hand molded against the small of my back to lead me outside. John's skeptical expression when I turned to wave goodbye tasted good.

It was ridiculous to try to make him jealous and I rolled my eyes at myself for playing these middle school games. He had a girlfriend and that girlfriend wasn't me. And I didn't want to break them up. Not that I would have minded terribly, I hadn't warmed up to her, but I wasn't the person to break people up. Not that I could have. Could I?

By now, Liam and I had fought our way through throngs of people to arrive on the sidewalk in front of Voter. The concrete was littered with the first colorful leaves where the old maple trees shaded it from the streetlamps. Taking deep breaths, I enjoyed the silence and the way my lungs filled with the light, smooth liquid that was the crisp fall air.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here," Liam eventually mumbled, his voice almost being swallowed by a quiet chuckle. "Don't be mad, I didn't know it would be this dull."

"It's fine." A small smile played on my lips. He wasn't actually sorry he had asked me to come.

"Do you want to go for a walk, maybe?"

I shrugged and nodded.

"Are you chilly?" His index finger found the sensitive skin on my forearm where he traced my goosebumps down to my wrist, only intensifying the sensation. I was cold, however. Bringing a jacket had seemed excessive for the literal 60-second walk over, but I hadn't anticipated taking a stroll.

So when he held out his black padded jacket for me to borrow, I gratefully accepted. The last thing I needed was to miss class because I had contracted a cold walking about in a cami in mid-October.

The old Armstrong library at Axinn lay quiet and sparsely illuminated when we passed it. It still housed floor-to-ceiling dark wood shelves and old books and armchairs and massive, ancient desks and fireplaces, but as the college had grown, two new libraries had been built so that the Axinn Center was mostly visited for its classrooms and computer labs now.

The quiet of the night was only interrupted by an owl crying somewhere toward the woods and the crunching of our shoes on the asphalt of the vacant campus service road. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Liam fidgeting with the hem of his black crew-neck t-shirt. When I turned toward him and cocked my head, he took a deep breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away," I encouraged, "but don't make me nervous by asking if you can ask."

He avoided my eyes, keeping them pinned to the path. "Are... hm, how do I phrase this? –Is—Is there anything going on between you and John?"

My mind kicked into gear. "John Jay?" Where is this coming from?

He cocked his head. Of course I knew who he was talking about.

"No." And it was true. Whatever The Movie Night had been, it would not happen again. "He has a girlfriend."

Pulling out my phone, I showed him her social media account on my phone. He sighed in relief.

"Oh yeah, I know her from a class last year. She's chill." His right hand ran through his dark hair before his eyes attached themselves back to me. "I'm sorry, I had to ask."

"It's fine. Are you going to ask me the same about my female friends, too, now?"

"Of course not." He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"Why not?"

His eyebrows almost met his hairline. I should have given it a rest, but he'd started this heteronormative nonsense. I couldn't help it.

"Because as far as I know, Jessica isn't 6'2", handsome, and plays soccer."

"You don't give her enough credit." A joke, I hoped, would bring the ship into safer waters again. It didn't seem like the time to argue societal prejudice.

"Grace." Liam's warm, chocolate eyes were molten lava cakes now, my gaze was pinned to his.

"What?"

"You know I like you, right?"

Damn. This was not what I had meant when I had decided to see where this would go, if anywhere.

"Of course, I like you too." The pitchy voice emerging from my throat made me shudder. I avoided his eyes while liquid ice replaced all blood in my cheeks.

"No. Grace." The firm, intense tone of his voice made me lift my eyes to his.

"What?"

"You know I like you, right?"

Shit. We had walked all the way to the track field where the dark Green Mountain ridge contrasted the silver glimmer of moonlight overlaying the landscape.

There, I had done that. I had liked being liked, but I hadn't been prepared for the consequences.

"Liam," I pleaded, but it sounded like whining even to my ears.

"What?"

This is too much too fast.

"Why complicate things?"

He knitted his eyebrows together. "It's not complicated. I like you. That's all."

He said 'that's all' as if this were really all there was to his confession, no implications, no expectations. I sighed, closing my eyes.

"What do you want me to say? 'I'm sorry'?"

My eyes opened again and attached their gaze to the track field sprawled out in front of us. "No, 'course not." My voice had grown more quiet.

"Before you say no," he began, reading the room, "give me a chance." I turned toward him, questioning. "Let me take you out. One date, if you decide afterwards you don't want to keep seeing each other, I'll be fine with it and our friendship will be like it was before."

My face was unable to conceal my skepticism at what he made out to be a foolproof plan.

"I promise." His face was so hopeful it was hard to say no. But I knew we'd get into confusing territory if I agreed.

So I willed myself to say: "Fine."

Wait—what? That was not what I had wanted to come out of my mouth.

"Thank you, Grace. You won't regret it." Why did I say that? What had happened? He was so happy, though. And I did like him.

Right?