When I entered the dining room, Fernando and Chance were sitting at the table, plates set out in front of them, sipping coffee and chatting it up like morning talk show hosts.

Chance gave me a knowing smile and jerked his head toward the swinging kitchen doors. “She didn’t bail,” he said with a smirk. “She’s in the kitchen.”

“I know.” I lied and swung past the table and through the doors.

Sydney was at the stove, humming to a beat playing in her head. Her messy hair was up in a big bun, and she was wearing my T-shirt and a pair of my boxers.

I leaned against the counter and watched her. She hadn’t noticed me yet. Too involved in her own world as she danced around and tossed chopped-up rocket dog in the egg scramble she was cooking. She looked beautiful, and I kept wondering how we went from death threats to wrapped in one another’s arms last night.

But her words haunted me. I’d heard her loud and clear—no more lies. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t dissolve the lump forming in my throat. A groveling-at-her-feet confession was required if we had any hope for a future. And I most definitely wanted a future with Sydney.

When she finally turned, I expected her to be startled and scream. Instead, she kept her beat, hopped over to me, and pulled my hands to her hips.

“Dance with me,” she begged, and I shook my head.

“Too early, baby.”

She gave me a pathetic scowl and rubbed her hips against my leg. “Do you wish I were taller, Gray? I’d feel less like a Chihuahua against a Great Dane that way.” She laughed and pointed to her hips that only reached mid-thigh on me.

Grabbing her waist, I pulled her up onto the counter next to me. “I like that you’re four feet tall and your arms are crazy long. You’re like a little monkey.” I nuzzled into her chest, and she whapped me upside the head.

When I pulled back laughing, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m five feet four. That’s a respectable height, and my arms are proportionate.” She held out her arms, examining their length. “See?”

I nodded and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. “I think you’re perfect, Sinister. Being of short stature is a blessing, not a curse. Think of all the cupboards you can hide inside. If this were a horror movie, I’d be the first one dead.”

She stared past me, deep in thought. “No, Fernando would be first. Then you. But Chance and I would hide in a closet while the killer roamed the house looking for us. And being as we’re the last two humans on earth, we’d quickly procreate so the human species could live on through me.”

I let out a disapproving growl.

“Then the killer would find Chance, and because I’m so little, I would sneak out through the crawlspace hatch in the closet. Unfortunately, Chance couldn’t fit. The last thing I’d see would be Chance’s head rolling across the dirt foundation floor, and the last thing I’d hear would be the killer’s aggravated screams after realizing he was bested by a LITTLE MONKEY,” she yelled into my face, ending with a laugh.

I was about to attack her when she let out a yelp and pushed me aside. “Crap, forgot about the food.” She ran over to the stove and quickly stirred something nearly burnt.

“Rocket dogs and eggs?” She turned, showing me the pan. “Gotta make sure Fernando eats or he can’t protect you on the field Saturday.”

Standing behind her, I hugged her waist. “Always looking out for me.” I kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.” I started to move my hands up her shirt when I heard the guys yell from the dining room.

“Done yet?” they screamed as she turned off the stove.

“Man, they are grummmmpy,” Sydney drawled, handing me the pan.

After she poured a coffee for herself, we headed to the dining room where the boys were salivating over their plates. Sydney sat across from me at the table. We were making eyes at one another, passing flirtatious smiles back and forth. Sliding my leg across, I ran it up hers, but I didn’t remember it being hairy.

“Getting fresh with me, Peters?” Chance shook his head and rubbed my leg back. “Not sure I’m your type.”

Sydney broke out in a boisterous laugh, and soon, I was right there with her.

Picking at her eggs, she glanced up at me. “I have Geology at ten, but I’ll be done at one. Do you have an afternoon class?”

Wait, did just I detect an eager Sinister checking my schedule? Yes, I did.

“Yes,” I said, finally locating her leg under the table. “But you’re coming to class with me.”

I lightly rubbed her calf, and she frowned.

“The last thing I want is to hang out on campus on my afternoon off.”

“You’ll like this class,” I said, giving her a subtle wink. “Unless you have something better to do? Burn down Kappa Delta, maybe? Spray-paint 666 on the side of the Religious Studies building? Typical bad girl stuff.”

She smiled, a rosy blush building on her cheeks, then glanced at Chance and Fernando. “Now that you’ve blown my plans out of the water, I suppose I could endure an hour of remedial English.”

I smiled and tipped my fork at her. “You ain’t learnt nuttin’ yet, Sinister.”

At half past one, Sydney burst through her dormitory doors, wearing a bright smile, and bolted toward my car. She was in skinny jeans and a grey hooded sweatshirt. Her long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she was wearing that hat with a chopped-up animal on the front. Even when she looked like a teenage boy, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen (scratch that first part).

When she noticed the crowd of football groupies who’d stopped by my car, she pulled her hood over her hat like she was about to be attacked by paparazzi. While any other girl would have crawled over just to prolong the jealous gaping, Sydney ran like she’d just robbed a bank and I was the getaway driver. She even hit the car panel twice before hopping in the seat.

“Ready?” I asked, and her eyes screamed at me to get moving. “I’m still warming up the car,” I teased, watching the group of loitering girls grow. “Sometimes she needs a few minutes of just idling to get the engine ready. Also, I need some good music, and I’m still working through the stati—”

“Gray,” she snapped, delivering a stern glare, and I chuckled under my breath. “Move it.”

It wasn’t long before we left campus and headed through the city toward MacArthur Middle School. The school was poorly funded, and the arts programs had been recently cut, so when I volunteered to instruct, they practically issued me a parking spot. It also doubled as an externship credit, so for me, it was win-win.

“What class is this?” she asked, finally pulling down her hood. Apparently, we were far enough from school she could be seen with me.

“It’s a surprise, Sinister.”

When I pulled through a low-income neighborhood, she stared out the window at the dilapidated homes and rundown apartment buildings.

“Are you taking me to see your drug dealer?” she joked, peering down at the poorly maintained streets. “I knew you were on steroids.”

When I noticed two kids skateboarding in the vacant lot next to the school, I stopped and rolled down my window. “Get to class!” I yelled, and Sydney’s eyes practically fell out of their sockets.

“What the hell, Grandpa Peters?” She laughed and looked back at the kids through the rearview. “Trying to scare them straight? Won’t work when you’re driving a car worth more than their homes, you rich prick.”

Laughing, I turned into a parking lot across from the school. Sydney threw me a suspicious look but stepped out of the car and waited as I pulled out my canvas portfolio bag and tackle box from the trunk.

“Are we fishing?” she teased, and I grabbed her hand, leading her up the steps.

Soon after, I led her down the chipped linoleum-floor school hallway and to the rec room. She froze at the doorway when she saw the art easels set up in a semicircle with a low wooden stage in the middle. “This… looks like a trap.” She turned to flee, but my sixth graders piled through the door, blocking her escape.