At lunch, I sat across from Spider and Mila, silent while they chatted. His eyes bounced around the cafeteria, never meeting mine. Yeah. We’d crossed a line when he’d asked me out, and I didn’t know how to backtrack and fix it. I wanted to talk to him, perhaps even confide in him, but every time I’d see him, either he had a girl with him or he’d pretend to be in a big hurry.

Our easy going friendship had disappeared.

In dance, I couldn’t get anything right; my jumps were flat and my pirouettes pathetic. After a dismal session, I trudged out the door to snowflakes that fell like fluffy white feathers, a rare thing in Texas. I got to the quad with all the stark oak trees and stopped, watching the barren landscape ease into a white wonderland. On a normal day, I’d be fascinated by the picture it made, but not with the threat of Alexander hanging over me.

I sat down on a bench and called Spider. I’d reached a point that I didn’t care that he’d side-stepped me all week. I needed him. He was all I had.

He answered on the fifth ring, right before his voicemail kicked in.

“What up?” he said, and I heard the wariness in his tone.

“Can’t I just call?”

He sighed, and I heard fluttering in the background like clothes flapping around. “I’m getting in my car to go out.”

I gripped my phone. “You have plans?” It was Friday night.

“Yeah.”

“Bathroom girl?” I asked, feeling a tad jealous. I hadn’t been with a guy since October. My ballet partner Jacques had been the last, and I’d used his body frequently to erase the image of Cuba from my mind. Then one day he’d stopped calling me because he’d gotten serious with another girl. I’d barely noticed.

“Dovey,” Spider groaned, like he was irritated. “Do you really want to know the details of my sex life?”

“Just forget it,” I mumbled and hung up.

Why did I care if he had someone? Didn’t everyone? I had ballet.

I stared at my phone thinking he might call me back, but it didn’t ring. I called Heather-Lynn and Sarah, and they were out running errands and planned on seeing a movie later. They asked me to go, but I declined, saying I was tired. It wasn’t a lie. But I was lying to them about the whole Alexander thing, and it was putting a strain on me. After a few minutes of checking Facebook, I rose up and headed to the parking lot.

But then my day brightened.

Spider’s Range Rover was parked next to mine, the motor running. He must have driven like a maniac from the dorms to get here.

He rolled down the driver’s side window, and even though I was ticked, I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face as I checked out his I’m ready to party look.

“You’re gonna freeze,” I snarked, indicating his neon-blue mesh shirt.

He stuck out his tongue, flashing his stud.

“And you’re wearing eyeliner. Billy Idol as I live and breathe,” I said.

He stared humming a bar from White Wedding, and some of the weirdness between us melted away.

“Get in,” he said, “and I’ll sing the rest of it.”

I tossed my dance bag in his car and crawled in from the cold.

“Now, tell me what stick’s been up your arse all week,” he said, pulling out of the BA parking lot.

I sent him a glare. Seriously? He was the one who’d avoided me.

And maybe I should have kept my mouth shut right then. Maybe I should have lied to him like I had Cuba.

But I was exhausted.

And honestly—and this was completely irrational—I wanted his damn attention.

You asked for it, buddy.

“Long story short, I gotta sell these eight-balls, but I can’t because I’m afraid I’ll make someone an addict or kill them if they overdose, or I could go to prison or hold that thought…I could go to prison.”

His eyes flared. He cursed, threw on the brakes, and we slid on the slick pavement, fishtailing and narrowly missing a guard rail. I clutched my seat as he finally gained control and pulled into an I Hop parking lot. I waited for him to detonate. Five, four, three, two…

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” he yelled, slamming the car in park. “This has to be a joke because you would not be that daft.”

I snapped. “You have no idea what’s been going on with me because you’ve had your face stuck up whoever you’re screwing this month. So just stop. You’re still mad at me because I—I don’t know what’s going on between us.” I totally did.

He sighed, his anger evaporating. “Shit. I had no idea you were in trouble, Dovey.”

I picked at the zipper on my gym bag.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I took a breath. “Sarah owes money to the wrong people. To pay them back, they want me to get a foothold in selling coke to BA kids for them. I have to sell it by tomorrow or pay what she borrowed.”

“How much?” he asked, the talk of drugs and loan sharks not really surprising him like I thought it would.

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip. “Stop, Spider. I won’t let you help me.”

“What? I have money. You think I can’t do without for you?”

I shook my head. “No, I know you would, but I don’t want you involved with my problems. These are dangerous people.”

He shrugged. “I have five thousand in my account right now. It’s yours. I can live on my credit card the rest of the month.”

Oh, Spider. He meant it, I could tell, and maybe paying down the debt might work with a regular loan shark—and how weird is that phrase—but with Alexander, it wasn’t entirely about the money. He wanted an in at BA. And my instincts said he wanted to test me, his own daughter.

“It’s not enough,” I said. “He wants the full amount.”

His hand went to my nape, softly rubbing, and I scooted over and lay my head on his chest, inhaling his expensive cologne. I sighed heavily, feeling emotional.

“It’s worth a shot,” he said. “I can go to the bank tomorrow, and it might hold them off for a bit.” He paused. “Or, I can sell the drugs for you?”

I pulled back so I could see his face. “That is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I said, trying to be funny, “but, I can’t drag you down. What if you went to prison? This is my problem, my mess.”