“Yeah, I am,” he admits. “Could we stay one more hour and then go?”

He’s compromising, and I want to feel happy and appreciative, knowing he’d rather hang out here the rest of the night. Instead, I feel the painful pull on my heart of having to compromise in the first place.

I nod. “Sure,” I say, chasing disappointment from my voice.

“I could introduce you to the guys. We could play a round together if you want?” Matt offers, obviously excited. “I know you’re good. I could use you, Ramírez.”

I don’t want to deflate his enthusiasm. I don’t want to be the girl who puts her foot down, who crushes her boyfriend’s plans. I just really don’t want to play beer pong, either.

“Maybe later.” I try to sound cheerful. “I’m going to walk around a little.”

I know Matt can tell I’m withdrawn. He watches me warily until Carter calls his name behind us. “Traverson, you coming back?” When Matt doesn’t reply, I push him lightly toward the table.

“Have fun,” I say. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He pauses, reluctance written on his perfect features. I muster a convincing smile, and finally he nods and rejoins the group. From the stairwell, I watch his face light up as he claps Carter on the back and picks up the game.

I’m happy for him. He’s toured schools for me, endured presentations he has little to no interest in just because I want to. I’m happy he’s enjoying himself tonight, reconnecting with his old friend, recapturing the fun they had in high school.

That’s exactly the problem, though. This is what’s important to Matt. This is what thrills him. Hanging out with Carter Wright the way they did in his basement and their baseball clubhouse, and at parties back home. Matt’s found what he wants.

Whereas I’m still searching. Still figuring out which place will thrill me.

I head upstairs, feeling forlorn. Usually I enjoy the rumbling momentum of impending changes. Not tonight. I walk up another flight of stairs to the next level, not because there’s anything worth seeing upstairs—just for the peace and quiet.

   Fitz

I THROW OPEN the front door, and Juniper’s nowhere to be found. The path under the streetlight is empty.

It took me ten minutes to get outside. When I made it downstairs, I tried to maneuver through the group of girls holding drinks clustered in the foyer. Unfortunately, one rounded on me and I ended up politely trying to extricate myself from the utterly unilateral conversation. Over the thudding of the music and with the thought of Juniper distracting me, I only caught the girl mentioning some semiformal coming up this week. Finally, one of her friends beckoned her into the room with the countertop bar.

I flew to the door. Now I’m searching the quad in the cold. No Juniper.

Not giving up, I decide to check the rest of the house. From the foyer, I take the stairs two by two to the basement. I don’t find Juniper, only the wall-to-wall crowds I left when I went upstairs. But I do notice Matt playing beer pong with—Lewis. Wonderful. I check the taproom, where Lewis first took me when we got here, then return upstairs. She’s not on the dance floor, not by the bar, not near the table with the computer and speakers passing for a DJ booth. She’s nowhere.

I move toward the stairs, figuring there’s a chance I’ll spot her from the second-story window the way I did before. Maybe I’ll catch sight of her heading in the direction of one of the other buildings. Careful not to cross paths with loquacious sorority girls this time, I walk to the upper level and pass the whiteboards and closed doors, heading toward my window.

Where I find her.

She’s sitting in the exact spot under the window I had marked for my own solitary reading plans. Her head is tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.

“There you are,” I say unthinkingly, not meaning to say anything at all.

Her eyes fly open and fix on me. Immediately, I read the sadness in them. The emotion doesn’t render her features any softer, only shadowing the usual sharpness of her expression. She blinks, and the despondency vanishes.

“There I am?” she asks. Her tone is edged with accusation, and if I’m lucky, perhaps a little amusement. “Were you looking for me, Fitzgerald?” She gets to her feet, leveling me an imperious eyebrow.

Hardly anyone calls me Fitzgerald, but I don’t bother correcting her. My name somehow doesn’t sound awkward on her lips. “Um, no,” I stammer. She’s wearing a light pink sweater tonight, the color of a blush. “How could I be looking for you? I had no idea you were at this party. I wasn’t even sure you were at Brown.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Her eyebrows flatten over narrowed eyes. “You followed me here?”

“Juniper, how could I have guessed you’d be at the random party my brother dragged me to? I only saw you from the window earlier.” I’m eager to dispel her suspicion, to ask her why she was sitting up here alone, whether she likes Brown—anything. Everything.

She shakes her head. “No. Not this party. Brown. Yesterday you heard Matt mention we were going to Providence. Did you follow me here?” Her voice is wary, almost nervous.

I understand why. There’s a word for following a girl you hardly know across state lines. Creepy. She’s right to be nervous. I take a step back, wanting to give her space. I will my body language to communicate, Hey, you could leave at any time, and I will in no way be weird about it.

“It’s purely a coincidence we ended up at the same school again,” I assure her evenly. “Just serendipity.”

She blinks, her unease fading beneath surprise and something else. Understanding? I’m not sure. It doesn’t last long. She juts her chin at me, dissatisfied. “If it’s just a coincidence, why didn’t you say anything yesterday when Matt mentioned we’d be coming here?”

“I don’t even remember Matt saying that,” I lie. It’s unfortunate, but better than admitting I was too nervous in front of her boyfriend to tell her I’d be in Providence too.

“He did,” she says stonily. Her eyes flit to the side. “You and I were talking about college. Then Matt came up and mentioned dates at Mike’s, and I said, ‘When we’re not busy.’” She nods, having found what she was trying to recall. “And then Matt said, ‘I checked out of the hotel. Do you want to get dinner before we head to Providence?’” She returns her gaze to me triumphantly. “You definitely knew where we were headed.”

“Whoa,” I say, blinking. Distantly, I’m aware she’s just caught me in a lie, but I’m too impressed by her perfect recall to care.