It was just my imagination—which was working overtime.

Every morning when my alarm went off, my first thought was, Maybe today’s the day they’re going to break up. I wasn’t proud of it. Dante seemed like he was a great guy—and every time I saw them together it was obvious Dante was really into Chad. I would look at Dante’s massive muscles, his handsome face with the extraordinary smile, and think, You don’t have a chance. He’s hot, he’s nice, he’s got a great job, he has everything you could possibly imagine going for him. Even if they do break up, Chad is hardly going to replace champagne with grape juice. He’s never going to want you. You need to accept it and move on.

Tuesday night, when Rush was over and I finished talking with the Bid Committee about some of the prospectives, I walked out into the parking lot and saw them kissing. They were leaning up against the trunk of Dante’s Porsche, and they had their arms around each other.

It was like being punched in the face.

I stood there watching for a minute. They finished their kiss, and Dante opened the passenger door for Chad. A few moments later the Porsche roared out into the street.

I sat in my own car, my head down on the steering wheel.

What is wrong with you? You’re wasting your time hoping for something that’s never going to happen. You need to just get over Chad and be done with it once and for all. Even if they do break up, it’s going to take years of working out for you to have the kind of body Chad’s attracted to. You’re never going to have him. Stop wasting your time. So what if he doesn’t want you? Plenty of other guys do. You only sleep alone by choice. Let go of the revenge fantasy—the truth is, if Chad ever wanted you you’d never turn him down in a million years. Let go of all of it. Be friends with him, because that’s all you’re ever going to be. So what if he hurt you? Did he really lead you on, or did you just fool yourself?

I started the car. It made sense. It was time to move on.

I woke up on Wednesday morning in a really good mood. I went to my classes, did my time in the booth, and headed over to the house to help get things ready for that night. As soon as I got out of my car, Chris Moore called my name. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I bit my lower lip. What could the president want with me? Had I done something wrong? He clapped me on the back. “I have to say, Jordy—and don’t take this the wrong way—but I was a little worried about you for Rush.”

“Really?” I frowned.

“Really.” He smiled at me. “I mean, you’re kind of shy, and so I worried a bit you’d struggle with Rush. But man, was I wrong! You sure stepped up! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work as hard as you this Rush Week.”

The praise felt good. “Well, it’s important.” I smiled back at him.

“We’ve already had ten bids accepted, and at least seven of them said how much they liked you.” He clapped me on the back again. “That’s seven pledges you’re pretty much responsible for recruiting. And Eric told me how hard you’ve been working at the booth. I’m proud of you, man.”

“Thanks, Chris.” Praise from the president! As I watched him walk back to the house, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. I might have a talent for rushing pledges, but if Chris had known the real reason I’d thrown myself into it so hard, he wouldn’t have complimented me.

I was standing there when a car pulled into the lot, almost blinding me with the headlights. I put up an arm to cut the glare, but it pulled into a spot and I started walking over to my car. I’d just put the keys in the door when someone called my name. I paused, with my hand on the door handle, and looked over.

Dante had just gotten out of his car and was walking over to me.

Great, I said to myself. Just what I need right now.

“Hi,” I said when he got close enough to hear me.

“Hey, Jordy, how you doing?” He stopped and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He was wearing a pair of plaid shorts and a muscle shirt.

“Tired, how are you?”

“I imagine Rush Week must be rough on all of you,” he said, still shifting.

“It’s tiring, a little draining, but you know, it’s important.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Alarms started sounding in my head. “Sure.”

“Would you mind grabbing a cup of coffee with me? I need to talk to someone, and I figured you’d be the best person.” He gave me a rueful smile. “And when I saw you, well, I just figured it was meant to be.”

Okay, this is just strange. I started to say something about Chad but stopped myself. I was curious. What did he want to talk to me about? So I nodded and said, “Sure, you want to go to the Starbucks on Shaw?”

Relief flooded his face. “That’s perfect. I’ll meet you there.”

I watched him walk back to his car and waved once he was inside. I got into my own car and followed him out of the parking lot.

All the way to Starbucks random thoughts ran through my mind. What does he want to talk to me about? My advice on buying something ridiculously expensive for Chad? My help in throwing a surprise party or something?

Once I had my iced mocha in hand, I sat down with him at a table in the corner farthest from the counter. We were the only people in the place, and that annoying Michael Bublé was singing on the speakers. “So, what’s up?” I asked, adding Sweet’N Low to my drink.

“I don’t know how to say this.” He played with his straw.

“So just say it.”

He looked at me, his face miserable. “I think Chad’s going to break up with me.”

My heart leaped in my chest. YES! I managed to plaster a concerned look on my face. “Dante, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. It’s a feeling I’ve gotten. The last couple of nights when he’s stayed over”—my heart sank again—“I don’t know, it’s been different somehow. I hate to ask, but has he said anything to you?”

“How different?”

“He seems distant.” He shrugged his massive shoulders, the muscles flexing and popping out. “Remote, somehow. I mean, he’s never been like that before. It was like he didn’t want to be there. I mean, the sex was just as hot as ever”—somehow I managed to keep smiling even though I wanted to throw my iced mocha in his face—“but afterward, well, he didn’t want to cuddle anymore. Maybe it’s nothing, but he doesn’t seem to be as relaxed as he was at first. I don’t know, maybe it has nothing to do with me. I thought it might be the pressure of Rush. . . .” He let his voice trail off.

“That very well could be,” I mused, trying not to get up and start dancing on the table. “Rush is really draining.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

I shook my head. “No, but he probably wouldn’t. I mean, Rees and Brandon are his best friends. He’d talk to them before he’d talk to me about anything so personal.” I shrugged. “I haven’t really talked to Chad much since school started, frankly.” I couldn’t resist adding, “I mean, he’s really spent most of his time with you.”

“Rees and Brandon aren’t his real friends,” Dante replied. “He told me that you’re his only real friend.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just stared at him.

“Rees and Brandon are just party buddies,” he went on. “You know, people to go out with and hang with and get drunk with. He’s never had a real conversation with them—and I can see why. I had them over for dinner one night and both of them were drunk before dinner was ready. They’re shallow. But you?” He gave me a sad smile. “He really cares about you. You’re his real friend.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just picked up my coffee and took a big drink. A voice inside my head was urging me to take advantage of this opportunity to bury this relationship once and for all.

But Dante was so clearly miserable—I couldn’t do this, could I?