“You mean me?”

God, she’s direct. Just like . . .

I cut off that thought and focus on Nell.

“Yes, I mean you. I’m interested in you.”

“I gathered that.”

“So, let me ask again? Do I count as a stranger?”

She sits up in the swing, upsetting the balance, and I have to grab on to the ropes and pull back to bring the thing to a stop. Before she can wiggle out of the tire, I circle around her. I stand and grip the ropes, just as she gets herself to the edge, ready to jump off.

“Torres . . .” she says, stretching my name out uncertainly. It’s not how I’d like her to say my name, but it’s not quite an admonishment either. It’s just . . . hesitant.

“This list is obviously something that matters to you, or you wouldn’t carry it with you. You wouldn’t have brought it to a party, of all places.” Something occurs to me then. “That’s why Dylan is suddenly bringing you around. She’s helping you with this list. That’s why she warned you away from me. She’s probably the one who made you make the list in the first place. I like the girl, but Christ, does she like to tell other people what to do, how to behave—”

Nell pushes to her feet, her chest grazing mine before she jolts back. “Dylan doesn’t know about the list. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell her.”

I frown. Now, that is not what I expected.

“Why doesn’t she know?”

Nell worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and God, her lips are already full enough without being swollen from her nibbling. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was doing this on purpose, trying to distract me from prodding further.

“Because this is something private, and you’re right. Dylan can be very opinionated. She means well, but these things . . . well, it’s more of an experiment for me, and experiments aren’t for an audience. They’re for discovery.”

“I promise I won’t tell Dylan.” Her shoulders slump in relief just before I add, “If you’ll let me help.”

“What? But I just told you this was private. You’d be just as much of an audience as her. These are things I need to do alone.”

“As I recall, there’s at least one thing on that list that can’t be done alone.”

Her cheeks flush, and I’m suddenly bursting with curiosity to know what else is on the list. What else might require two people.

And there goes my body’s traitorous reaction again. Even if she doesn’t want to go skinny-dipping, I might need my own dunk in the pool just to cool down before I go back to the party.

She holds the spiral tighter to her chest and says, “It’s not just that I want to do this alone. I want to be through my list before the semester ends in a month and a half. It’s easier and faster to do this on my own.”

A month and a half. Sounds like a good amount of time to accomplish what I’m looking to do, too.

“For you, sweetheart, I would make time.”

“Some of the items on the list are . . . they’re of a personal nature, okay? And I don’t know you.”

“You don’t know me? Does that mean you’d go so far as to call me a stranger?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh, but I can tell by the frantic clutching of her fingers around the spiral that she’s not just frustrated. She’s downright terrified.

“Listen.” I take hold of her shoulders, stilling her nervous movements and forcing her to look at me. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. And I promise I won’t look at your list again. I swear, okay? And I won’t tell Dylan or anyone else about it. But I want you to swear that whenever it’s something you don’t have to do alone or something you shouldn’t do alone . . . you’ll call me. I sing a mean karaoke, and I pull all-nighters all the time, and I—”

“Okay.”

I pause, letting my arms trail down from her shoulders to her elbows.

“Okay?”

I lean a little closer, pitching my mouth closer to hers. “Does that mean I can be your strange—”

She covers my lips with her hand, cutting off my words, and with that familiar proud tilt of her chin she says, “The list says to kiss a stranger. Not be kissed by one.”

And with that she pulls out of my arms and starts toward the pool, her hips swaying to the heavy pounding of my heart.

Chapter 9

Nell’s To-Do List

• Normal College Thing #12: Go skinny-dipping.

I keep my head held high and my back straight the whole way over to the pool.

But inside?

I am an equation with too many missing variables. My heart is doing things that biologically it should not be able to do. Or at least it feels that way. And my nerves begin to bleed through as I try with shaky hands to undo the childproof lock on the fence around the pool.

The pool where I am trespassing.

Where I am breaking the law.

And where I will presumably be wearing far less clothing in a matter of minutes if I do actually go through this.

Just breathe, Antonella. The more you breathe, the less panicked you’ll feel.

It’s all biology. Hormones and neurons and impulses. This is a biological response to an intimidating situation. I have nothing to fear here. My brain just thinks I do.

While I’m still struggling with the lock, Torres’s hands settle over the top of mine, halting my movements. He’s directly behind me, one arm on either side, effectively surrounding me with his skin and heat and scent.

“Relax,” he says in my ear, but if anything that just shatters the smidgen of control I’d managed to wrangle back from my panic. My shoulders tense, rising up closer to my ears, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“I can’t,” I admit, my voice quiet. “You . . . intimidate me.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .”

“Because you like me. Even though I’m flashy and shameless. Even though I’m too concerned with how other people see me, and I’m like a puppet who doesn’t realize his strings are being pulled?”

I flinch at the reminder of what I said at that Frisbee game. He’d been so close and so appealing, and I’d lashed out with my most ruthless honesty so that he’d give me some space to breathe, to think.

I twist, looking over my shoulder at him, and my back comes into contact with his chest.