For the next hour, we break into groups and meet new people based on the various things the moderator calls out. The first grouping is based on the middle initials. Mine is Anne, so I go to the A group, and I go there slowly. Breathe. Breathe deeply. Nate is with me again, and instantly I relax.

“Andrew,” he says, shrugging.

“Anne.”

While in our group, the moderator reorganizes us by birthdays, first asking for months—Nate is still next to me for February—and then by dates.

“What’s yours?” he asks, his fingers out like he’s calculating.

“I’m the fifteenth,” I say, hearing someone next to me say they’re the fifteenth, too.

“Sixteenth,” Nate says, and he puts his hand flat along my spine again, keeping me close.

“Now I’d like everyone to turn to your right, and put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you,” the moderator calls.

Nate is in front of me, and there’s a small, quiet girl with curly hair behind me. I still feel my muscles tighten when she puts her hands on me, but I’m able to endure it. I think it would be worse if it were one of the other guy’s in the group, but I’m comfortable here between this girl and Nate.

The moment my fingers connect with his shoulders, I feel it again—it’s that heart-speeding-up kind of feeling. I know I should forget about it, bury it, and stuff it away deep inside—because I only have enough energy to focus on being a human. I don’t have the capacity to focus on being a girl. But I can’t help this reaction. His muscles are hard, and I feel every curve of his shoulders and the grooves along his back.

“That’s it, Thirty-three. Dig in right there,” he jokes, while I massage and work his muscles. The girl behind me can barely be felt, but I’m letting my fingers and thumbs rub all along Nate’s broad shoulders and back.

“Switch!” the moderator calls, and I turn quickly, knowing that Nate’s hands are seconds away from my bare skin. I’m both thrilled and worried that I wore a shirt with spaghetti straps. I try to put my focus on the shoulders of the small girl in front of me, doing my best to stare at the words on the back of her shirt, but I don’t give her near the attention I gave Nate. I’m more patting her shoulders in circles.

Nate’s fingers sweep my hair over my shoulder first, and I hold my breath the entire time. I can hear him breathing behind me, like I’ve tuned out every other sound in the gym, and I flush when I realize my arms are covered in goosebumps. I know he sees it, and for a moment, I think I feel him blow gently on my neck. His fingers finally find my shoulders, and my lips part and let out a sigh. Thank god he can’t see my face right now.

His touch is slow and deliberate, his thumbs circling gently along my back and his fingertips feeling every inch of bare skin on my shoulders. My eyes are locked on the moderator, and internally, I’m begging her to forget about the next announcement; when I see her pull the mic to her lips, I almost cry.

“Okay, now freeze right where you are. Slowly, I want you all to sit on the lap of the person behind you.”

I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be a girl. Maybe I can dazzle Nate again with Paige’s blatant ni**les. I’m looking for her, actually wanting her distraction, but she’s a dozen circles away. Cass seems to have bailed out completely—instead, sitting along the wall with Ty, and they’re both watching Nate and me, giving each other commentary. She catches me looking at her and lifts her hand from her knee for a small wave.

“I got you,” Nate says over my shoulder, sending the goosebumps I just got rid of right back along my arms. Without warning, I’m suddenly sitting back, his hands firmly on my hips, guiding me onto his legs. Everyone is giggling—everyone…but me. My body is starting to shake, and I know he can feel it.

“You won’t fall, I’ve got you,” he says over my shoulder.

I’m not worried about falling, I’m worried about not being able to get out once I’m tangled with other bodies. And maybe I’m worried about how sitting on Nate’s lap is going to make me feel.

His legs are just as strong as his shoulders, if not stronger. They’re solid, and long, and warm; I can feel my back pressing against his chest, which is also solid and strong—unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t even notice the girl in front of me sitting on my lap; I keep my hands along her shoulders for support. Sparing a look downward, I see Nate’s hands still along my waist—and for just a few seconds, my mind fools me, and I see Josh’s hands instead.