"Your girlfriend, maybe?" I turned around.

His face fell.

Along with it went my heart. My hopes. It was true. "You said you'd break up with her."

"Tess-"

I shook my head, a short, desperate little jab. "You lied to me."

He held his arms out. "What did you...hear?" His brow crinkled, disbelieving. "Did you go talk to Hannah?"

"You lied to me!" The pumpkin spice churned in my stomach. That insanely expensive little coffee might have been the worst decision of my life.

"Wait, Tess, tell me what you said to her."

I was not going to sit here and get a lecture about the rules from Dylan of all people. I knew the rules about talking to Hannah before he'd ever heard of her.

"God, let me think," I cried in mock contemplation. "I think, maybe, 'Hi'?" Had it even been that much? "I didn't seek her out or anything, Dylan. I'm not some evil bitch." Even if I would steal her boyfriend, I wouldn't rub it in her face. "She was standing in line next to me at the coffee shop. And she's the one who started going on and on about how I'm her boyfriend's lab partner, and her boyfriend this and her boyfriend that, and she and her boyfriend are going to go away on a romantic vacation next month."

"What?" He looked honestly baffled.

"So tell me, Dylan," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "which is it? Is Hannah Swift the most deluded person on the planet, or am I? Am I the biggest idiot in the universe for believing you when you said you were going to break up with her?"

Dylan said nothing for a long moment, just stared at me with heartbreak in his eyes. "Tess, I need you to sit down for a second. I need to tell you something and I didn't want you furious when you heard it, so..."

No way. No. Way. I had heard a variation on this speech a hundred times. I was not my mother, to be reasoned out of the kind of life I wanted for myself, the kind of person I wanted to be. I started past him toward the door. Why had I ever thought it would turn out differently? Why had I even thought I was worthy of that? A girl who would steal her own sister's boyfriend? I was the devil.

"Tess, please," Dylan begged. He grabbed my arm. "Please, please, I love you-"

I jerked away. "Go lie to Hannah."

"I am," he said, and there was something so desperate in his words my steps faltered. "Tess, she's sick."

What? I turned around and looked at him. "I just saw her. She doesn't look sick."

His face was as serious as a funeral. "Please, just sit down. I promised I'd tell you everything today, so let me tell you, and then you can decide."

I relented and entered the living area. His futon was still pulled out into bed form, the blankets tangled and inviting. I froze.

"Sorry. I just got up."

"Mmm." I skirted the bed and sat-or perched, rather-on the very very edge of his desk chair, poised for flight.

Dylan sat on the edge of the futon bed, leaning out over it, as if he could reach me. I rolled farther away.

"First, let me say I love you, and I'm really, really sorry I didn't get a chance to talk things over with you first-"

"Get to the point or I'm leaving," I said.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Yesterday, I planned to meet Hannah for lunch. I was going to break up with her then. I didn't want lies between us any longer than necessary. She's a good person, Tess."

Yeah. Better than both of us, apparently.

"But when I called her in the morning to set it up, she was totally hysterical. She'd gotten a call from her doctor's office that morning about some abnormal result on a test. The doctor wanted her to come in right away. She was really scared. Of course, I offered to go with her."

The rest of the story came together in my head before he even finished saying it, but I listened patiently as he reported on their trip to the doctor. How he'd waited alone in reception while Hannah had a long chat with the doctor about the tests she would soon undergo. How he'd held her hand during the imaging of her throat and chest, trying desperately to read the sonographer's impassive face for clues on what she might be seeing. How he'd been filled with guilt and pain as he'd thought about what he'd been planning on saying to her that day, even as he'd hugged her and told her he was there for her and that everything would be all right.

"Is she going to be all right?" I pressed.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not able to get a straight answer out of her-she's so distraught about the whole thing, all the technical stuff is just sliding out of her head. It's like after she heard the C word, everything else sounded like it was spoken by a grown-up in a Peanuts cartoon. And they don't really tell me anything useful. I'm just the boyfriend."

Something cold shot through me at the word.

"But I do know there are going to be a lot more tests, and it may be be a few weeks before they know if..." He hesitated. "How serious it all is."

"Oh God," I said, as a lump formed in my throat. "Poor Hannah."

He gave me a curious look. "Thank you."

I cocked my head at him. "For what?"

"For saying that. I mean, you don't even know her."

"I don't need to know her," I said, immediately on the defensive. She's still my sister. I mean, she was still a young girl with some really bad news to face. I played with the sleeves of my jacket. "Has she, um, spoken to her parents?"

"Not yet," he said. "She wants to do that tonight. She wants me to go with her."

I nodded, examining my hands.

"Tess." This time it came from very near, and when I raised my head, I saw he'd ventured as close to me as he could get. "I can't believe I'm saying this-"

Oh, here it comes. The bargaining. The slippery slope to betrayal. Was this how it had started for my mother? Agreeing to keep things on the down-low for "just a little while"?

"-but I don't think we can be together right now," he finished, pain etching his brows into little frowns.

Laughter bubbled from my lips, I was so relieved. Even in this, Dylan took the high road. He didn't want to sneak around. He wanted to wait. "Of course we can't be together right now!" I exclaimed. "You can't dump a girl the day she finds out she may have a deadly disease. Geez, what kind of monsters would we be?"

He looked at me and I looked at him, and for a moment, I felt like we could smile. It was a bad situation all around, but we were trying the best we could to keep Hannah from being unnecessarily hurt.

"I was going to say that I understand if you can't forgive me for this." He shrugged. "I just-I can't break up with Hannah right now. I feel so guilty, like maybe if I'd been paying more attention to her this past month, I would have noticed. She's been talking about how tired she's felt, how little energy she's had and, on some level, all I thought was 'great, I don't have to feel guilty for not going over there after spending the whole evening with you.'"

"You're not to blame," I replied quickly as my cells thrilled to his admission that he hadn't been willing to go to Hannah's after being with me. I went to lay my hand on his arm, then thought better of it. The less physical contact we had now, the better. "Even if you had been around, who thinks, 'Oh, honey, I wonder if there's something wrong with your thyroid?'"

"It's just...terrible."

"It is," I agreed. I wondered what my father would do when he heard. Probably fly in a team of specialists for his Hannah. God, poor Hannah. She must be so scared. "If there's anything I can do-"

"Like what?" Dylan asked in a tone of gentle amusement. "Throw seaweed at the problem? You're a bioengineering major, not pre-med."

"I don't know. Bone marrow?"

He chuckled. "I think they go to family members first for that kind of thing."

"Right," I said. Family first.

"And hopefully we'll never get to that point. Hopefully this is all nothing."

"Hopefully," I echoed. I should ask Dylan to tell me if they got to that point. I wondered what they'd do if they did need bone marrow. I wondered if my dad would ask me.

"God, Tess, you really are incredible." He was shaking his head in wonder at me. "I've been up all night trying to figure out how to handle this, trying to figure out what you'd say, how you'd react. I've been trying to figure out how I was going to get through these next few weeks-worrying about Hannah, wanting to be there for her, and being completely and totally in love with you the whole time-"

"Please," I said. "Do not tell me how wonderful I am for almost stealing a girl's boyfriend while she's busy trying to find out if she has cancer. I'm not wonderful. I'm not even good. I'm pretty sure this is the worst thing I've ever done in my life and I'm not going to pretend otherwise."

He blinked at me, and then he grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go, even when I tugged. "You don't really think that, do you?"

"Of course I do!"

His blue eyes bored into mine. "You didn't ask for this, Tess. I did. I was the one who wouldn't leave you alone, who kept pursuing you, both in class and outside it. And you know what? Even if you hadn't been interested, my days with Hannah would have been numbered. Because being with you, feeling the way I do about you-I don't feel that way about Hannah. I never will. I would have left to find someone I loved. I would have wanted her to find someone who feels that way, too."

I bit my lip. He's just not that into you. That was the phrase, wasn't it? And it was no one's fault.

"We're barely in our twenties. We're supposed to be having fun. I'm not interested in wasting anyone's time with something that's not working." He sighed. "But I'm not going to kick someone when she's down."

I understood what Dylan was saying now. This was not about me. It was about him and Hannah. I may have been the catalyst for their breakup, but I was not the cause.

Would that make it any easier? As with everything else, only time would tell. But Dylan had one thing wrong. I was far pettier than he gave me credit for. With every fiber of my being, I hoped that Hannah was not sick, that these tests she was about to undergo would show that the whole thing was a false alarm and my sister would live a long and perfect life. I hoped all of these things, but at the same time, I worried. What if it turned out that there was something wrong with Hannah? If Dylan couldn't break up with her when she was in the middle of a health scare, what would happen if it ballooned into a real health crisis?

Was there any point in pinning my hopes on a guy who might not ever be available?

THIRTEEN.

Not long after that, our conversation devolved into talk about the project, because Dylan and I were dorks like that. In truth, I was relieved to see that we could talk about other things. Whatever happened in the next few weeks, it was going to be very hard if we couldn't find any topics to discuss that weren't either Hannah or our unresolved lust.

Dylan glanced at his clock. "Um, I should probably go get ready for class." He gestured to his PJs. "Want to wait here for a few minutes and we can walk over to Bio-E together?"

"Sure." I nodded as Dylan grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, I took a minute to catch my breath. I could do this. With him out of the room, I felt like I might finally get some air, like the thrumming awareness that simmered just below the surface of every interaction with him had abated. Even as we spoke, there was a tiny part of me that wondered if I'd be able to handle working alongside him now, after our near miss two nights ago. After all, I'd had plenty of reasons not to make out with my sister's boyfriend before our chat, and I hadn't exactly stuck to the rules then.

Nevertheless, Dylan's words put me at ease. I wasn't entirely blameless in this situation, but neither was I a boyfriend-stealing bitch.

God, I hoped Hannah was all right. I hoped Dad was okay. Maybe I should call Mom and let her know that he was about to get some scary news. It was funny; I never knew if problems in his real family made him spend more time with us or less. There had been times over the years when he'd move in for a few days or weeks at a time, when he'd take my mother on long, luxurious vacations while I stayed with a babysitter. I wondered what Hannah and her mother thought he was doing on those occasions.

But he wouldn't run away when his daughter was sick, would he? She'd need her father there with her, the same way she needed Dylan.

Good lord, did I have daddy issues.

Dylan emerged from the bathroom. Against my will, my heart skipped in my chest. He wasn't wearing anything more exciting than a T-shirt and jeans, but his hair was damp and tousled, and his glasses were on. Somehow, when the glasses were on, I felt like he was mine, not Hannah's. Kind of the opposite of Superman.

"Okay, I'm ready. Just let me grab my books." He leaned over the futon, and I saw the way his wet hair was leaving tracks of water down the collar of his shirt. Before I realized what I was doing, my hand had gone out to smooth the droplets off his neck.

Dylan froze. "Tess-"

I pulled back as if burned. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." I hadn't been thinking. My hand wanted to touch him. My skin needed to be against his skin. It was as simple as that.

He sank to the futon beside me. It was still a bed. Still all rumpled and inviting and smelling like Dylan in the sheets. If I touched him now, we'd never leave this room. We'd miss class, we'd fall back on the sheets, and all the promises and rules we'd just made for ourselves would fall by the wayside.

"I can't lose you," he whispered. "All these years...I thought you were gone. Now that I have another chance... I can't lose you again."

His gaze burned me, blue and longing and magnetic. That's when I knew it was going to happen. All of it. It was inevitable, it was inexorable, it was impossible to resist.

Dylan's phone buzzed on the sheets. Hannah's face popped up on the screen. He dragged his attention away from me and swiped the answer button. "Hi... How are you?... No, I'm about to leave for class, so...wait, you're on your way up?"

I shot off the futon like it was made of live snakes.

He pressed the mute button. "You're my lab partner. It's not a big deal that you're here-"

"I told her I was going to class less than an hour ago."

"Oh." He turned back to the phone. "Okay, Hannah, I'll see you in a minute." He disconnected, then looked at me. "Bathroom."

I rolled my eyes but complied. It was the only choice, wasn't it? Hiding in the bathroom. This was where it began. I wondered how many bathrooms my mom had hidden in over the years.

Seconds after he closed the door behind me, I heard a knock at the outer door to his studio. Even though logically I knew she wouldn't be able to see me, I still backed up until I hit the counter. The steam hadn't yet dissipated from his shower, and the misty air smelled of Dylan's soap and shampoo.

"Good morning!" Hannah's voice floated through the door. She sounded caffeinated. Probably finished more of her coffee than I had.

"Hi," said Dylan. "How are you feeling?"

Did they kiss? Did he kiss her right on the other side of this door?

"I'm actually just on my way out," he said now. "So-"

"I'll walk with you to class," she said. "I wanted to talk to you about my folks. I'm kinda thinking of not telling them until...well, until we know what we're dealing with."

More pangs of guilt stabbed my gut.

"I don't want them to freak out," she finished. "My mom's kind of sensitive."

And your dad?

"Um...okay," Dylan said. "Let me grab my keys. I don't want to forget them, since the door locks automatically behind you when you leave."

Was it my imagination, or had he said that part just a little bit louder than necessary? Great, got the message, Dyl.