“Apparently, it is,” I answer with a shrug, and I try to ignore the way her words warm me up all over. “At least for me.”

Not going to lie, it feels like a special occasion. How can it not when I have texts on my phone from Jaxon right now telling me this is his favorite song?

“I can’t believe my dad had them make you—” My face must give it away, because she breaks off mid-sentence. “This breakfast didn’t come from my dad, did it?”

I don’t know how to answer that. I mean, if I try to pretend it’s from Uncle Finn, she’ll just ask him about it and find out the truth. If I tell her it’s from someone else, she’s going to want to know who sent it, and I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her. I kind of like the idea of this Jaxon—the one who tells me vampire jokes and sends me waffles with fresh whipped cream—as my secret. At least for a little while.

But the look on Macy’s face says she’s not about to be put off. And that she’s got a pretty good idea of where the food came from, even though I haven’t answered her yet.

Which leaves me with only one option, really. A downplayed version of the truth. “It’s really no big deal, okay? My ankle’s bothering me, and he was trying to help.”

“Flint?” she asks, eyes wide. “Or Jaxon?” She says the last in a whisper.

“Does it matter?” I ask.

“Oh my God! It was Jaxon! He talked Chef Janie into making you waffles. I didn’t even know that was possible—she’s really tough. Then again, if anyone could do it, Jaxon could. I mean, the boy is terrifyingly efficient. And he always gets what he wants.” She grins. “And I’m pretty sure what he wants right now is you.”

A knock sounds from behind her, and I’ve never been more relieved to have someone come to my door in my life. “Can you get that? My ankle still hurts.”

“Of course! I want first crack at interrogating Jaxon anyway.”

“It’s not going to be Jaxon,” I tell her, but just the idea that it could be has my palms sweating a little. I sit up straighter, try desperately to fix the mess that is currently my hair as Macy opens the door.

Looks like the panic was for nothing, though, because it isn’t Jaxon. It’s a woman, carrying a large yellow envelope.

I tell myself I’m not disappointed, even as the sudden butterflies in my stomach kind of fall back down with a thud. At least until the woman, who Macy calls Roni, hands her the package. “I’m supposed to deliver this to Grace.”

Macy whips her head around to look at me even as she takes the large envelope being thrust into her hands. Her eyes are huge, but I can’t blame her. I’m sure mine are just as big.

I don’t know what else Macy says to Roni to get her out of our room, because every ounce of my attention is focused on the envelope in her hands. And my name written on the front of it in the same bold scrawl that was on the earlier note.

“Give me!” I practically beg as I push myself to my feet. My ankle still hurts, but for this, I’m willing to suffer.

Except Macy is in full mother-hen mode, apparently. “Sit back down!” she squawks as she shoos me back to bed.

“Give me the envelope!” I make grabby hands at it.

“I’ll give it to you as soon as you’re back in bed with your ankle on that pillow.”

And then she glares at me, standing just out of reach, until I do what she says.

But the second I’m settled, the stern look goes away and the stars come back to her eyes. She thrusts the envelope at me and practically yells, “Open it, open it, open it!”

“That’s what I’m doing!” I tell her as I tear at the seal. It’s one of those plastic Bubble Wrap ones, so it’s harder than it should be, but eventually I get it open.

And out falls a large black library book.

“What is it?” Macy climbs on the bed next to me in an effort to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” I answer. But then I turn it over and…it’s totally the last book I ever would have expected him to send.

“Twilight? He sent me a copy of Twilight?” I turn to Macy in confusion.

Macy gasps as she stares from the book to me. And then she starts to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

And I guess it’s kind of funny…the idea that a guy like Jaxon would send a girl a paranormal romance, but I don’t think it’s nearly as amusing as Macy is making it out to be. Plus, I’ve always kind of wanted to read it, to see what all the fuss was about all those years ago.

“I like it,” I tell her a little defiantly. Because I do—almost as much as I like the fact that Jaxon took the time to pick it out for me.

“I do, too,” Macy says around another fit of giggles. “I swear. It’s super…charming, actually.”

“I agree.” I open the front cover, and my heart stutters as I see the small Post-it note stuck to the cover page. In the scrawl I’m rapidly coming to recognize as Jaxon’s is this quote from the novel: “I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“Oooooooh!” Macy clutches her hands to her chest and pretends to swoon. “If you don’t kiss that boy soon, I’m going to disown you. Or I’m going to kiss him myself.”

“I’m sure Cam would appreciate that.” I trace my finger over the individual letters of every word he wrote, one after the other, even knowing it makes me look as starry-eyed as I feel.

“Hey, Cam’s always talking about doing things for the greater good. Here’s his chance to put his money where his mouth is.”

“You kissing Jaxon is for the greater good?” I open the book to the first page.

“Me kissing Jaxon as your proxy is definitely for the greater good. Put you both out of your misery.” She bats her eyelashes. “Though it definitely wouldn’t be a sacrifice.”

“How about we make a pact? You keep your lips off Jaxon and I’ll keep mine off Cam?”

“Wooo!” Macy shouts so loud, it makes me jump. “I knew last night you were into him, with your babbling and your I-we-he stuff.”

“I didn’t say I was into him.” But it’s kind of hard not to fall for him at least a little after a morning like this one.

“You didn’t say you weren’t, either.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have a class to go to?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” But she climbs off my bed, starts straightening her hair in the mirror over the dresser.

“I am, yes.” I hold up the book. “I want to start reading.”

“I bet you do.” She makes kissy faces at me. “Oh, Edward, I love you so much! Whoops, I mean Jaxon.”

I throw a pillow at her, but she just laughs and grabs her backpack. Then she gives me a quick wave before heading out the door.

The second Macy’s gone, I sink back onto the bed and hold Twilight to my chest. Jaxon sent me a love story. I mean, yeah, it’s about a vampire, but it’s still a love story. And that quote… I didn’t want to show it in front of my cousin, but swooooooooon.

I grab my phone and fire off a text to Jaxon.

Me: Swoon emoji

Jaxon: Don’t get too starry-eyed

Jaxon: It’s supposed to be a warning

Jaxon: Winky kiss emoji

Me: Of what?

Jaxon: Things that go bump in the night

Jaxon: You never can be too careful

Me: I like scary stories

Jaxon: But do you like the monsters in them?

Me: I guess it depends on the monster

Jaxon: I guess we’ll see, then, won’t we?

Me: I don’t know what that means

I start to text more—his mood is so different than it was earlier, and I want to get to the bottom of the change—but there’s yet another knock on my door.

Me: Hey, did you send me something else????????

Jaxon: Why don’t you open the door and find out?

Me: That sounds like a yes

Me: You don’t have to do this, you know

Me: I mean, I appreciate it so much

Me: But it’s not necessary

Jaxon: Grace

Jaxon: Open the door

I start making my way across the room to the door, thrilled that since the Advil kicked in, walking doesn’t hurt as much, and my limp is a lot less pronounced. Then, right before I open the door, I text:

Me: How do you know I haven’t already opened the door?

“Because I think I would have noticed,” he answers from where he’s standing on the other side of the beaded curtain.

“Jaxon!” I squeak out his name, my free hand going to my hair automatically in an effort to smooth down the mess. “You’re here.”

He lifts a brow. “You want me to go?”

“No, of course not! Come on in.” I hold the door open as I step back.

“Thanks.” He jerks a little as he steps over the threshold and Macy’s beads brush against him.

“I don’t know why Macy insists on keeping those up when they shock people on the regular,” I say, swatting the annoying things out of the way so I can close the door. “Are you okay?”

“I have no idea.” His eyes meet mine for the first time, and the happiness bubbling inside me dies down as I realize the blankness is back.

“Oh, well.” I duck my head, suddenly way self-conscious around this guy who I’ve had no trouble talking to all day. “Thanks for the book.”

He shakes his head, but at least he’s smiling when he answers. “I thought it might give you something to do while you’re resting your ankle.” He looks at me pointedly.

“Hey, I was in bed. You’re the one who knocked on my door.”

His eyes widen a little at my mention of being in bed, and then we both do the only thing we can do in the situation—stare awkwardly at my rumpled hot-pink sheets and comforter.

“Do you, um—” I clear my suddenly clogged throat. “Do you want to sit down?”