Free Out on Good Behavior (Radleigh University Book 3) by Dahlia Adler

keep you company,” rolls off my tongue before I can stop it. “What time is it?”
    Her face lights up, and my insides go with it. “Eight, at Schneider Hall. I’ll meet you there with our tickets. I gotta run, but I’ll see you later.” She waves as she leaves and nearly trips over her feet. I have no idea what’s going on or why I just said yes or what the fuck this internal glow is, but if this is an honest-to-goodness crush, I am going to be really fucking pissed.
    • • •
    I don’t realize I’d thought meeting up would clarify whether or not this is a date until I get to Schneider Hall and feel no clearer on the subject than I had that morning. I didn’t wanna hear Lizzie or Abe’s teasing, and I definitely didn’t want to tell Cait where I was going, so my usual voices of reason are absent from this conversation. But none of that matters if I don’t want it to be a date, right? And I don’t. I can’t. I’m not ready for everything that means being responsible for, everything it means saying goodbye to. And that doesn’t change just because a girl can apparently rock a little black dress like nobody’s business.
    But it really would help if she’d stop looking so damn beautiful all the time.
    “Was I supposed to dress up?” I ask as I join her in the lobby. “I thought this was just a little campus thing.”
    “You’re fine,” she says, handing me a ticket. “I just felt like getting a little fancy.”
    “You’re fine” isn’t exactly a glowing compliment, nor does it leave an opening for me to tell her she looks gorgeous. Strike a point for the “Not a date” column. Plus another point for handing me my ticket instead of handing them both over together, maybe? It seems decidedly more friend-like.
    Jesus, I am making myself crazy.
    “So where does Cait think you are tonight?” I ask as we make our way to the fourth row—far enough to potentially hide our boredom but close enough not to be obvious that we want to be able to.
    Andi spots Samara then and smiles, lifting her hand in a little wave. Samara waves back and whispers, “I told her I was going to a concert; I just didn’t say whose.”
    Or who with, I’m willing to bet.
    We chat about nothing for a few minutes as the room fills in a little more, then sit back quietly as the concert begins. It’s not that bad, truthfully, and Andi’s pretty good as far as I can tell. Not that I’m terribly focused on the music. My eyes keep darting to our arms on the rest between us, how close they are to touching but not. It would be so easy to reach out and take her hand, to answer the question once and for all. It’s not like it’s a big deal—plenty of people are out at Radleigh. Hell, just in this room. Sure, sometimes it comes with its annoying shit, but this is a pretty open-minded, liberal campus; I can’t escape the thought that if she really were into me, she’d have made a move.
    I try to think back to when I was a little baby queer, but the truth is, I can’t even remember a time before I knew I wasn’t just into guys. Sure, I juggled “Am I gay?” for a while, not because I wasn’t attracted to guys but because I didn’t know there were a plethora of options between the ends of the Kinsey scale, let alone between “boy” and “girl.” I definitely played around with different labels until I decided pansexual felt like the best fit. But thinking I was straight? Not part of my particular past.
    Sidra is really the person I should be asking; she came out much more recently and would probably have more insight. But she’s also a Relationship Person, and she’d never get why all of this is weirding me out so much.
    I don’t even really get why this is weirding me out so much.
    Honestly, this is ridiculous; I get far too much ass for me to get this worked up about one girl. If she’s straight, whatever, and if she’s in the closet, that’s her prerogative. It’s obvious I’m exceptionally attracted to her,