"So have you thought about it?"

"What?" I lift my gaze from my phone to see who is talking to me. Katy, the annoying student class president, is standing in front of my desk, ponytail just as high as it was on the first day of school, looking down at me expectantly. I barely registered her walking into class and up to me, my eyes glued to my screen for the whole day. In fact, the whole week. I've been obsessively checking my inbox to see if Carter has somehow reached out to me again, but the new system of a pre-approved contact list Nicole suggested has been working great.

"Remember? I saw you at The Underground" Katy drops her voice to whisper the last part. "I asked you if you wanted to join cheerleading. I know tryouts started last week, but you're tall enough to make a great back spot!"

I finally put my phone down and wrack my brain for the memory of Katy coming to talk to me at the secret club this past weekend. Oh God, I remember she was pestering me about joining at least one club or sport so I can get more involved at the school and out of annoyance I told her I would think about cheerleading just to get her off my back. I'm embarrassingly un-athletic, but it was the first thing I could think to blurt out to her so she would leave me alone. I told her I would have an answer by Thursday. Today is Thursday.

"Oh umm," I struggle to come up with some excuse for not being able to try out.

"Leila joined the photography club and they meet on the same days as cheerleading," a deep voice says from my right. I turn and to my surprise, Tristan is sitting at the desk next to me instead of his usual back corner. I look back at Katy who is equally as stunned as me that Tristan has come to my rescue. And in so many words.

She shakes off her surprise and says with a big smile, "Well that is absolutely wonderful! I can't wait to see the stuff you put in your portfolio!" With that, Katy bounces away to her seat at the front of the class.

I let out a sigh of relief and turn to Tristan. "Thanks for saving me. I don't think I would have survived one second of cheerleading."

He just nods in acknowledgment, his lips slightly upturned in more of a smile than his famous smirk. Tristan returns to his AP Macroeconomics notebook and scribbles what I can only make out to be groups of numbers. There are no words in his notebook, just lots of figures and equations. Am I in the right class right now? I look around the classroom and see the rest of my AP Macro classmates starting to fill in the empty seats.

I shake my head slightly and return to my phone. Just one unread email from the school's booster club about the Harvest Festival the weekend after Halloween. I drop my phone into my bag and fish out my notebook. I continue to search for a pen, putting my bag in my lap to dig deeper through the crumbled up pieces of paper and granola bar wrappers.

A dark red pen appears in front of my face mid-dig. I follow the hand that is attached to it and see that Tristan is the one offering it to me. "Thanks," I say, taking the pen from him, my fingers brushing against his slightly. I pull back at the same time he does. More electricity, just like that day in his car with Aunt Clara's book.

"So, you're coming over for dinner tonight," he states more than asks. I get locked into a stare down with his beautiful green eyes. Why am I coming over for dinner? When was this planned? Why is he being so nice to me?

"Clara and my mom planned it two days ago," he explains. "I thought you knew."

"Oh," is all I can manage to say. I guess I do remember Aunt Clara mentioning that we were having dinner with the neighbors this week. I just assumed it was with a different family.

"I guess I'll see you tonight then," Tristan says right before our teacher stands up to begin the lesson.

I'm going to Tristan's house. For dinner. In Tristan's house. With Tristan. Unbelievable.