My nose almost touches the floor as I press my torso on top of my right leg. The muscles in my left thigh burn as I hold the split and I clench my hold on my calf, stretching myself further forward.

After what seems like forever in that position, I straighten my back and reach for the towels a few feet to my right. As far as I reach, my fingertips just barely graze them. I sigh in defeat and get ready to pull myself out of the split to retrieve the towels.

"Need help?" A voice to my left asks. I turn and see a pretty girl sitting on the ground a few feet away from me, unlacing her high top Vans. She nods to the towels I was reaching for and smiles.

"Yeah," I say, smiling back at her. "I was gonna work on my right oversplit before class started."

She gets up and picks up the towels, walking toward me. "I figured. I had both my oversplits last year but I lost them over the summer. I'm not looking forward to getting them back," she says, kneeling in front of me. Then she gently lifts my right leg and places two folded towels under my ankle for leverage.

"Just two?" she asks, holding up more towels. I shake my head, already feeling the burn of the small oversplit.

"Yeah, two is perfect. Thank you," I say. "I'm Scarlett, by the way."

"Mya," she says, sitting back down to put on her pointe shoes. "I've seen you practicing before. You're really good."

I blush as I press myself back over my leg. "Thanks, you too," I say honestly. After a few minutes, she joins me on the floor to stretch and we make small talk about the class, the instructor, and how long we've danced. It isn't long before the conversation turns to the auditions that are being held in a few months and I change the subject quickly.

"So do you go to UNC?" I ask as I pull myself up off the floor. Mya nods, rolling out her ankles, and I smile. "Well," I say, proud of myself for making a dance friend, "I have an extra ticket to the home opener basketball game against Syracuse tonight if you wanna come?"

She smiles. "Are you kidding? Hell yeah, I wanna come."

"Great," I say, trying to keep my cool. We agree to meet at the stadium. A second later, our instructor walks in -- this long-necked Russian lady with tremendous posture and a permanent scowl. We stop talking immediately and take our places for barre.

When I get back to my dorm after class, I collapse onto my bed with a groan. I can already feel the soreness in my calves from the relevés she made us do. It felt like we were doing them for hours.

Just before I'm about to drift off into a quick nap, my phone buzzes next to my head and I grasp at it, too tired to raise my head. But I immediately wake up when I see who it's from. I press Levi's message tentatively, wondering what the hell he could be messaging me about.

Just shared my character analysis
Are you gonna turn it in or do you want me to?

I sit up, remembering that our movie character analyses and synthesis are due at midnight. I sit down at my desk, realizing that I have less than an hour before the basketball game to merge our analyses and turn it in. I text him back.

I'll do it
Thanks

I'm halfway through merging and formatting our assignment when he texts back. As hard as I try to focus on the task at hand, I finally give in and pick it up. When I read the text, I wish I hadn't.

So did you like the band?

He doesn't say his band, but it's obvious which band he's talking about. I was hoping we could just forget the whole thing happened, but he apparently didn't get the memo. I consider acting stupid, then realize that I'm being childish. Yes, I saw his band. Yes, they were good. Did he necessarily have to know that? I decided not.

I guess

Ouch

I mean it's not really the music I
usually listen to so I'm not
exactly the greatest judge

So if you weren't there to
listen to the music,
you were there to...?

Of course, he's trying to scope out whether or not I was stalking him. Great.

I only followed you
in to give you your jacket
You left it in my car

Yet, I'm still missing
that jacket

I lay down on my bed, suddenly feeling my hands get sweaty. He thinks I'm lying.

Get over yourself
I left when my ears started
bleeding from the music

Someone's getting a
bit defensive

I'm not defensive

So then you should
have no problem
telling me where
my beloved jacket is

I hated the way I could almost imagine his irritating smirk as he taunts me. He doesn't deserve to know that his jacket is safe and sound, flung on top of my desk.

It's probably buried
in a landfill by now
Sorry

Very funny
I can see it in your
dorm right now

Look out your window

I gasp, hopping off my bed and peering out the window, expecting to see his stupid face outside my dorm. I look around, but I don't see anyone. I pull down the blinds and sit back down on my bed, kicking myself for falling for that. He doesn't even know where I live.

I made you look, didn't I?

Now I know he's smirking.

You're probably out there
hiding in the bushes right now
Who's the stalker now?

Hey I never accused you
of being a stalker
Your words, not mine, Crimson

There's that damn nickname again. I throw my phone on my bed, unable to come up with a response to that. A few minutes later, just as I'm turning in our stupid project, I hear a knock at my door. I stomp over and swing it open, suddenly convinced that Levi figured out where I live and is trying to mess with me to satiate some sick, psychotic urge of his.

"Levi, this isn't funn -- Oh, hey," I say, covering my irritation with a smile.

"It's just me and Jack, Scar," Archer says slowly as he walks in, throws his backpack on the floor, and sits on my bed. Jack follows behind him, only giving me a quick glance. "Are you expecting a Levi to come by? A boy?"

He says boy with heavy emphasis, and I roll my eyes. "No, I wasn't. I was just -- nothing."

"Suuuuuure," he drawls, kicking his feet up on my bed with his shoes still on. I sigh and sit next to him. Jack sits at my desk, eying the jacket and crossing his arms over his chest. "So how long have you and Levi been together? Has Dad ran a background check on him yet?" He questions me, knowing fully well how annoying he's being.

I shove his shoulder and Archer laughs. "Levi is not my boyfriend," I insist, horrified that I even have to clarify that fact. "He's not even a friend."

Archer ignores my insistence. "Does Levi live on campus? Jack and I might have to pay him a visit. See if he's worth your time." He laughs and looks at Jack, expecting him to add to the interrogation. But Jack remains silent then leans forward, grabbing something slung over the back of the desk chair.

"Is this Levi's?" He asks, an unreadable tone in his voice. Jack holds the leather jacket like it's a pile of toxic waste. I don't answer, and he looks at me for a long second before throwing the jacket into the corner and leaning back in the chair. He braces his arms behind his head, not sparing me another glance.

I focus my attention on my brother. "Have you talked to Mom or Dad recently? Eaten any vegetables? Gotten any girls pregnant?"

Archer groans. "Yes, yes, and no. I wrap it before I tap it, not that it's any of your business."

I grimace. "You're right. I do not need to know about your . . . intimate practices," I say. "What did Mom and Dad say?"

Archer's expression turns serious for a second but he tries to hide it. He tosses lip balm from my bedside table up between his hands, trying to keep his voice light. "Nothing much."

I give him an I-know-you're-lying look and he cracks. "Don't tell them I told you," he adds, "But they took Dani to the doctor again. Her headaches were kinda bad this past week."

My stomach plummets at the news -- both at the fact that they feel like they can't tell me these things and that Dani's condition is worsening. "Why couldn't they tell me?" I ask quietly, wringing my fingers in my lap. "I can handle it."

Archer sits up and looks at me seriously. "They didn't want to worry you. And besides, she's fine. Still doing that nerd shit on the computer and kicking ass at online chess."

I laugh, trying not to think of my little sister in pain. If I could have taken her with me to college, I would have. I clear my throat. "So why are y'all here? Doesn't the game start soon?" I ask, gesturing to their backpacks strewn across my floor. Their jersey numbers and last names are sewn into the fabric.

Jack still shows no sign of wanting to talk to me, so I look at Archer for the answer. He sits up and opens his backpack, digging around. Finally, he pulls out a Carolina Blue jersey and hands it to me. "For you to wear tonight. If you're using my tickets, you gotta rep the name."

I hold it up, grinning. It has Archer's number on the back, as well as our last name. "Maddox. Number Thirteen," I read out loud, suddenly feeling a rush of excitement for my first college basketball game. "Thanks, Arch. I could probably sell this to one of your groupies for a few dollars."

Archer snatches it from me, admiring it. "I'd like to think that a jersey with my name and number would go for at least thirty dollars."

I grab it back, trying to smooth out the wrinkles from being stuffed in Archer's backpack. "Dream on."

"Arch," Jack interrupts. He's already standing up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Griffin #7. "We gotta get going. Coach wants us there in ten."

Archer hops off my bed and picks up his own backpack. "Aight. Love you, Scar. See you there."

He leaves my room and Jack follows him without saying a word. No goodbye or anything. I try to suppress the sting I feel from his indifference.

I refrain from overthinking that whole interaction with Jack, instead turning my attention to getting ready. After I put on the jersey, my phone lights up with another text. I rush over, hoping it's something from Jack. My mood dims when I realize it's not. But I can't help the laugh that escapes when I read Levi's text.

I'm neck-deep in a landfill
and starting to think
you didn't actually
throw it away...

Keep looking
I'm sure you'll find
it soon enough

I guess we're on joking terms now. Unless he really is neck-deep in a local landfill, in which case I'd have to feel bad for him. But only a little bit.

I don't dwell on Levi long before my mind strays back to Jack. The idea of him being jealous over me produces a certain thrill in me. But that same thrill is squashed when I realize how unrealistic jealousy is in a non-existent relationship.

After our assignment is finished and turned in, I get ready to leave. Seeing that Levi hasn't texted back, I shrug it off and head off to my first college basketball game. As I walk out and join the masses of students walking to the game, I find myself looking at every girl wearing a Carolina blue jersey, analyzing the backs of their shirts.

Just to make sure none of them are wearing Jack's jersey.