"Oh, come on," she replied. "You never were rebellious as a teenager. It's nice to see that you do have it in you. Which is why I don't want you turning into a drudge over this school thing. College is supposed to be fun. You need to be able to go out, make friends, and yes, meet boys...and I do mean boys, Tess."

"Not married men?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Not married men." My mother had been even younger than me when she'd met Dad, a college intern the fifteen-years-older-than-her Steven Swift had found irresistible. When she'd gotten pregnant, she'd dropped out, he'd agreed to support her, and the rest was history. "I don't regret any of the choices I've made, the life I've had with you and your father, but I know that's not for you. So...no married men, Tess."

What about boys with girlfriends? I almost asked her. I wondered what my mother would do in my situation. Damn the torpedoes, probably. She'd had no compunction muscling in on a marriage, she'd have no trouble trying to break up a simple dating arrangement.

When I was younger, I'd wonder why, if my father loved my mother so much, she hadn't been able to get him to leave his wife for her. Later I understood. It was Hannah. She was only a few months my junior, and my mother had once let slip that Dad and his wife had struggled for years with infertility. The powerful Steven Swift getting divorced and marrying a younger woman was not an earthshaking revelation. Abandoning his pregnant-at-last wife for the intern he'd knocked up-well, that was a career-ending scandal.

When I was a teenager myself, I'd wondered why my mom had submitted to this arrangement. Why she hadn't told Dad where to shove it, taken me, and started our lives free and clear. But I saw how hard it was on Annabel. She was twenty-four now and still working on her nursing degree, taking the odd class here and there while working two jobs. Sometimes, she said, it was like she worked just to pay the babysitters.

And it wasn't just the money, either. Mom loved Dad. Even if she'd been as ambitious as me, she might not have left. She loved him then, she loved him still. You couldn't help your feelings, no matter what obstacles stood in the way. She'd always believed that, and I had to admit she was right. Though I was making different decisions than my mother, I knew that it didn't change how I felt. I'd spent two years wishing away my connection to Dylan Kingsley. But even though I had more reason than ever to deny my attraction to him now, I couldn't make myself stop wanting him. It was a part of me, and wishing it away would be like trying to banish my left foot by power of will alone.

Mom always claimed I got my brains from my father, but it wasn't that. She wasn't stupid, my mother. She was just more willing to let her life be guided by her emotions than Dad was, than I was. I believed he loved my mom, just not enough for him to ruin his life over. I'd cared for Dylan, too, two years ago, but I'd chosen to walk away, to not let my life be guided by my relationship to a man.

And I wouldn't let it happen now, either. There was far too much to lose.

That afternoon, Dylan came to Verde again and asked to be seated in my section. I hadn't seen him since class on Thursday. He'd probably spent the weekend partying, in costume, with Hannah. I bet she'd made a beautiful kitty cat, or princess, or nurse.

For the sake of my weariness, my libido, and my sanity, I decided to go on break. Let someone else handle his table for today. I didn't have any fight left.

TEN.

I wasn't even to campus on Monday morning when I got a text from Dylan.

We need to talk. Meet me in the atrium ASAP.

Fear bubbled in the pit of my belly. Was he breaking off our partnership after I'd blown him off at Verde on Sunday? Or because he realized that working together was just too weird? Or maybe it was because I wasn't good enough? He couldn't do that! I needed this project. I needed the money. I needed...Dylan.

I took a deep breath.

What's wrong?

There was no reply. I sped to campus, parked, and tried to look calm as I approached the glass doors to the bioengineering lab. Dylan was standing by the stairs, and his face was grim. Today, the glasses were absent and his frown left me cold. I'd honestly never seen him so serious.

He saw me, and there was no brightening in his expression. I'd never before realized it, but there was always a hint of a smile when he first caught sight of me. The fear boiled over. Maybe this didn't have anything to do with our work at all. Maybe he somehow found out about me and Hannah. About my dad.

That was silly, though. It wasn't possible. Even if he'd noticed our eyes, most people would write that off as a coincidence. Lots of people had similar eyes. I smoothed my hands over my jean skirt, tugging down the folds that always formed over my hips when I sat. What I wouldn't give sometimes to have tiny little hips like Hannah.

What I wouldn't give to have a lot of Hannah's things.

I took a breath, pulled my shoulders back, and walked over.

"Good, you're here," he said, his tone flat. "You have to see this."

He led me over to the lab sign-up sheet posted on the board outside the admin offices. Elaine Sun was signed up for Monday through Wednesday evenings every week for the rest of the semester in the lab we'd been using for our sessions.

"She's trying to sabotage us," he growled. "I know it. She's studied our schedule and she must know you can't make it at any other time."

"So this thing really is cutthroat." And to think one of the things I was looking forward to at Canton was not competing for lab space.

"When it comes to Elaine?" His tone was grim. "Yes."

I laid a hand on his arm. "We'll find another lab space."

"Not with all the equipment we need, and not for as much time as we'll need it. She arranged this very neatly. And, lest you think I'm being paranoid, look at this." He pointed at erasure marks on some of the pages, and I could see the ghost of Elaine's name. "She erased every Thursday or Friday slot she had and every slot she had where we had classes. Now she's only reserved our lab for the times we need."

"Maybe her schedule changed?" I suggested. "I can't imagine someone going through all this trouble just to mess with us."

"Well, you're a better person than Elaine."

No, I was just a busier one. I could barely get my own shit together, let alone figure out how to fuck up someone else's.

He slammed a fist against the board. "I'm so angry at myself right now. I don't know why I didn't sign up for the whole semester right off the bat." Up until now, Dylan had just been signing us up for the labs when he came in for his early Monday morning class. "But in two years, I've never had a hard time reserving a space. I've ruined everything."

"Hey," I said. "This is going to be okay. I'll go talk to her-"

"Yeah, you do that," he said ruefully. "You go talk to her and see what she does. My money's on gloat."

"I never gloat," said a voice behind us. Dylan and I turned to see Elaine standing there, her computer bag slung over her shoulder. "It's so petty."

"No, you know what's petty?" he asked. "You know you can't compete with us on real terms, so you're just trying to make sure we can't do our project as planned."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault you didn't plan ahead, Kingsley. Might be good for you to realize you aren't the center of the universe for once."

I stepped between them. There was no need to go nuclear. I'd learned well from my mother how to arrange things so everyone got what they needed. "Elaine, the problem here is that I have shifts at my job on Thursdays and Fridays, so really our only time in the lab is Monday through Wednesday evenings. I'm sure we can work out some sort of schedule so we can all finish our projects on time-"

"Oh, please. You made your bed with this guy, so now you can lie in it. I told you he was bad news. Anyone with half a brain knows that if you need Lab A and all its equipment to finish your project, you'd better reserve your time well in advance. But Kingsley here thinks he's above all that."

How did she know what kind of equipment we needed? Dylan's paranoia was sounding a lot more plausible.

"Elaine, seriously," Dylan said. "Get over it."

"Screw you," she replied sweetly, turned on her heel, and left.

Dylan looked like he wanted to punch the wall again.

"Okay, that girl has issues," I said to him. "What precisely did you do to her again?"

"I told you. I beat her in the freshman end-of-year competition."

"She hates you," I said, skeptical. "It's not just rivalry. She honestly hates you."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Like you said, issues."

I shook my head. Something didn't add up. "Are you sure all you did was beat her that one time? You didn't, like, strangle her kitten or spill wine on her silk dress or sleep with her and never call her again?"

"No!" He was quiet for a second. "I did sleep with her roommate freshman year."

I gaped at him. "You what?"

"I slept with her roommate. Two years ago. Fall." He looked contrite. "She was the first of the three."

I smacked his arm. "Dylan!"

He flinched away. "What! I was eighteen. I was new at school. And I'd just had my heart broken by..." He gestured. "Well, you know all that." He hung his head. "I made a mistake, Tess. Haven't you ever made a mistake?"

"Yes." I made a mistake not calling him back all those years ago. I made a mistake breaking his heart, letting him go.

But Elaine's roommate having an ill-advised hook-up with Dylan two years ago was no excuse for Elaine to sabotage our project now. Even if she was mad at Dylan, that was bullshit. And I'd never done a thing to her.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Partnering with me, that was your mistake. I can't believe I've screwed this up for you."

Partnering with Dylan might still end up being a mistake, but not because of any of Elaine's ham-handed machinations. Clearly, she had no idea who she was dealing with. I had a whole lifetime's worth of experience working around people who didn't want me to have nice things. If Tess McMann screwed something up, she screwed it up on her own damn terms. If I wasn't going to let Dad get the better of me, there was no way I was going to let some Canton co-ed do it.

"We're not going down without a fight, Dylan. Elaine doesn't own the lab. I'll switch my shifts at Verde to early in the week. We'll reserve every Thursday and Friday instead. We'll come in at 6:00 a.m. if we have to."

"You need your Friday-night shifts at the restaurant. That's when you make the most in tips."

He'd been paying attention. "I'll be fine. As long as we win, I'll be fine."

He shook his head. "And if we don't win?"

I shrugged. "I'll figure it out then."

Dylan looked at me, his blue eyes keen and penetrating. "You're a marvel, Tess. You know that?"

"Give me your pen," I said brusquely, trying not to let his words sink in. "I'll sign us up for every space left on the chart."

"I mean it. I know why you've really been borrowing my textbook. I'm actually a pretty smart guy."

"Yeah," I said, concentrating on filling in the slots. "Is that why you've been tipping me out the wazoo lately?"

"So you'll quit borrowing my textbook? Yes," he joked. "I don't like your sticky notes."

I looked at him, my expression dead serious. "I don't want you giving me money, Dylan. And I don't want you bullying jerks into giving it to me, either." I returned to writing our names down.

Tess McMann and Dylan Kingsley. Tess McMann and Dylan Kingsley. Dylan Kinsley and Tess McMann, just to switch it up. Kingsley/McMann. Tess + Dylan.

No, I wasn't going to write that last one again.

"Jerks don't deserve their money as much as you do for putting up with them," he said softly. He'd moved in so he stood right behind me. His voice was nearly a whisper.

My pen stilled on the page. "Stop," I whispered.

"Why?" He was so close. Heat poured off his body in waves. His breath stirred the hairs on my neck.

"You know why." I closed my eyes for a long moment, waiting for the feelings to pass. If I just concentrated on breathing, if I thought about anything else-my classes, the weather, that strange knocking noise I heard in the engine of my car from time to time-it would pass. I wouldn't want to jump all over him. I could be better than my parents. I could overcome this.

"Yeah. I do." He stepped back and I breathed a sigh of relief. When I turned around to look at him, he'd pulled out his phone and was entering the new schedule into his calendar. "I should get to class," he said without glancing up. "I'll email the new hours to you so we both have them."

"Okay."

"If you want, we can meet later to figure out our plan of attack." He looked up. "After all, it's not like we have other plans tonight."

"Okay."

"My place? Five thirty? I'll make dinner."

"Okay," I said again, automatically. I don't know why. I should have been smart enough to realize what would happen.

We both should have.

When I arrived at Swift 202 that night, I could smell Dylan's cooking from the other side of the door. By the time he answered my knock, I was already drooling.

The way he looked didn't help. The contacts were gone, the glasses were back, and the hair was damp and mussed and downright floppy. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and his feet were bare and his collar was worn and I could have had him. I could have had him two years ago and I walked away.

"Come in," he said. "I just got out of the shower. Went to the gym this afternoon."

Tell me more about this shower, I thought, stepping across the threshold. The gym part was obvious. His T-shirt was thin, and the definition in his arms and chest were there to remind me that despite those glasses and the untamed hair, I was no longer dealing with the eighteen-year-old boy I'd once known.

"What are you cooking?"

He grinned, then practically bounded into the kitchenette. "I hope you like it. It's this Greek shrimp thing, with feta and tomatoes."

"I love feta and tomatoes. And shrimp. And Greeks."

"Me too," he said. "My family went to Greece last summer and I have been on a Greek cuisine kick ever since." He picked up a bottle of wine from the counter and presented it with a flourish. "Ever have retsina?"

"No," I said. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Oh." He lowered the bottle. "I didn't know-"

"No," I clarified. "I'll drink alcohol. I just mean, I'm not a wine aficionado. Before I started working at Verde, all I knew was that white went with fish."

"Well, retsina can be an acquired taste. It's resinated-tastes a bit like pine needles." He looked at my face and laughed. "I told you. Acquired. But I definitely acquired it this summer. Brought some back. This is my last bottle."

And he was using it on me? Sweet. "They let you have alcohol in the dorms?"

He started taking the cork out. "Well, they haven't shut down my speakeasy yet. Besides, I turned twenty-one before the school year started. You?"