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exaggeratedly. “Anyway, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hook you up with Nova.”
    “Yeah?” My mouth was so freaking dry. I gulped down more Pepsi, waiting.
    “Rayna Cunningham.”
    Trip’s triumphant grin bordered on obscene. I stared at him. My mental elephant stopped trampling and looked confused.
    “Uh.” I tried to figure out what sort of face to make. “Rayna Cunningham?”
    “Stop pretending. You want her.” Trip pointed his straw at me, splashing soda. “I didn’t get it until Alessa told me she was the emo douche’s fag hag. Then it all fell into place.”
    “Oh.” I haphazardly wiped my hair away from my sweaty forehead. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Congratulations, you’re totally off the mark?
    “No worries, dude. I’m not gonna say anything. I’m questioning your taste, but whatever. As long as you’re not gonna marry her, you can fuck her stupid for all I care.”
    I stared into my drink. The elephant wandered off, feeling neglected.
    “Uh,” I said again. “Thanks?”
    “Yeah, no problem. You gonna need help getting in her pants? Your pick-up skills are rusty.”
    Damn. Just when I thought the worst was over, Trip outdid himself with the tasteless commentary. I tried my best not to think about it. “I’ll let you know,” I said tightly.
    “’Kay.” Trip dug in his pocket and took out his phone. Apparently, that was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned. My mind, however, couldn’t put the topic to rest just yet.
    It occurred to me that this would have been a great opportunity to tell Trip the truth. Yet I hadn’t even come close. Hadn’t even really considered it. Jasper had nailed it when he had told me so bluntly that no way in hell was I “out.”
    Dude, I’m gonna be honest with you. It’s not Rayna Cunningham whose pants I want to get into. It’s Jasper Reyes.
    I remained silent.
    Trip seemed lost in his thoughts on the way back, so we didn’t talk much then either, and when we reached the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel like a failure. Preoccupied with that cheerful thought, it took me longer than it should have to realize that my next class was art.
    Jasper.
    He was sitting at our table when I entered the room. I saw dark hair tumbling into his eyes as he leaned forward, focusing on the sketch he had already started, and that was all I could take before I clammed up, blushed hard, and had to turn away.
    My heartbeat was amplified to the point where my entire body throbbed with it, and I did my best to breathe deeply and evenly as I collected my things from the supply closet. That close to the end of the semester, we got few directions in this class and were mostly free to do whatever the hell we wanted as long as it was art related. Some people had projects to finish. I didn’t, and I had no plans other than screwing around doodling in my sketchbook. I probably wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else anyway.
    Jasper didn’t react when I sat down. He never had before, so I probably shouldn’t have expected him to, but I took it about as well as a slap to the face.
    After everyone had settled and Miss Fisher had turned on music for us like she usually did, I was still staring at a blank piece of paper. I had no inspiration. The only urge I felt was to stab the stupid paper repeatedly and aggressively with my pencil. Feeling frustrated, I buried my hands in my hair and clenched them into fists, pulling hard enough to hurt. It gave me an odd sense of relief, so I did it again.
    “Are you distracting me on purpose?” Jasper calmly demanded to know.
    I scowled at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    He hadn’t moved his head, and his focus still appeared to be on his drawing. I was about to look away and ignore his remark when I saw his lips curving into a slight smile.
    “Your hair,” he said.
    “My hair?” I glanced stupidly upward, as though that would allow me to see the