As I walk from my first class, I can't help but drag my feet. Everything looks more depressing now that I've exposed my secret. The walls look duller, the lockers older, the tiles blander. I shuffle between a cluster of baby-faced girls, who have somehow already formed a clique. At this rate, it'll take me years to find a group of friends like that. I grab at my stupid, ugly purple blouse, clenching the front in my fist. My fingernails graze against the fat of my stomach, and suddenly, an obvious thought explodes through my mind—none of this would have happened if I wasn't so fat.

The thought frightens me to the point I fall to a stop in the middle of the hallway. A boy bumps into my shoulder, mutters an apology, and weaves around me. I take a deep breath through my nose and lean against a dented locker.

Think rationally, Addie. You are not fat.

After I repeat this mantra through my head about fifty times, I ease away from the wall and start back down the hall. I don't know how much time has passed—I left my phone in my dorm—but I'm sure I'll be late to my next class. It's a beginner's yoga class, a soothing PE credit that my therapist suggests I take. Mostly, it sounds unpleasant, but right now, I'll do anything to feel calm.

I push through the exit and step into the day's harsh sunlight. My skin prickles with the heat, and even with my eyes squinted, it's almost too bright to see where I'm going. Yoga is on the other side of campus, of course, but that's all I can remember. I pause, leaning my shoulder against the side of the English building, and rummage through my backpack.

It's the same bag I've been using since high school, complete with small tears and a weird stain on the bottom corner. I shuffle through my binders and folders, but slowly, I realize the map isn't there. My stomach dips low as I frantically tear through the bad. I can feel the blush swimming up my body, covering my neck and face. Even though I keep searching, I know it isn't there. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know exactly where I left it: in plain sight on my dorm room desk so I wouldn't forget it. Go figure.

Slowly, I zip my backpack into place and swing it back over my shoulder. My face is still hot with embarrassment or frustration or shame, or maybe all three. I don't have my phone, but I already know I don't have time to run back to my dorm and then all the way back to the yoga studio. It will take too much time, and there's nothing I hate more than being late—especially that late.

I do the walk of shame toward an empty bench. My head falls into my hands,, and already, I can feel the panic rising ten stories high. Should I make a run for it, try to get there in time? Should I send an email to the professor, beg for an excuse? Should I just screw it and go back to bed?

"Addie?"

My fingers tighten against my head, pinching the short strands of hair. He says my name again, but I'm too embarrassed to look at him. His voice is warm and concerned, maybe even pitiful.

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to look up with casual surprise.

"Oh hey, Lex," I say. My voice cracks slightly, but Lex acts as if he doesn't notice.

"How's it going?" he asks, taking the seat beside me.

"I'm good," I lie. "Just finished my first class, and I really like it so far."

"That's awesome," says Lex.

We fall into an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and I spend the time trying not to stare at him. He looks unbearably good today: red T-shirt, beige jeans, a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. I don't know if he usually wears glasses, but it's a good look on him. It makes him look like he should already be a doctor.

"So, when's your next class?" asks Lex.

I flinch slightly and roll my tongue around my mouth. When I can't think of an excuse, I sigh and turn toward Lex in defeat.

"Probably five minutes ago," I say. "I forgot my map in my dorm, and I don't know where my class is."

Now, Lex smiles.

"Did you consider asking for directions?" he asks with a gentle laugh.

My face once again enflames. "Um no, I guess I didn't."

"What class is it?" asks Lex

"Yoga for beginners."

"Hmm, sounds very boring," he says with a cheeky grin. "Well, I can probably help you find it, if you want. Or you could ditch your first period class."

"Ditch my first class?" I say, appalled, as if that wasn't exactly what I was going to do anyway.

"Yeah, come out to lunch with me," says Lex, shrugging his shoulders. The wind blows softly, and a soft hint of his cologne whiffs in my direction. He smells like peppermint.

I try to imagine myself eating in front of Lex, but the idea makes my stomach hurt. He knows about me and my eating problems—what will he think if I eat normally? What will he think if I don't?

"I don't think that's a good idea," I say finally. I ring my fingers together and stare at the intently. "I should probably go to class..."

"You don't seem sure about that," says Lex. He's smiling again, making it impossible to tell if he's picking up on my anxiety. "C'mon, how about coffee? Everyone loves coffee."

"Okay," I say, surprising myself.

When Lex's eyebrows jolt upward, I know I've surprised him, too.

"Really?" he asks. Before I can answer, he jumps to his feet. "Awesome, there's the best place, right here on campus."

He holds his hand down to me. I take it slowly, as if it's a dangerous animal, and let him help me to my feet. As soon as I stand, I let our hands drop, even though I get the weird feeling he wanted to hold on.

Lex walks with long strides, meaning I have to practically run to keep up with him. My backpack bounces against my shoulders, a painful reminder that I'm supposed to be in class.

"So, you're an English major, right?" asks Lex.

"Um yeah," I say. I can't decide whether it's flattering or creepy that he knew that without my telling him.

"That's awesome," says Lex. "I actually thought about being an English major, but my mom would've killed me if I didn't do pre-med."

"Well, you obviously made a good choice," I say. "I mean, you got an internship after your freshman year of college, right? I don't even know how that's possible. It's really cool."

"It was after my sophomore year. I'm a junior now," says Lex with an easy shrug. "Besides, it wasn't all it's cracked up to be, anyway. My job as an intern was to organize inventory. Exciting stuff."

"Don't forget flirting with the patients," I say before I fully process my words. As soon as they're spoken, I clamp my mouth shut.

Lex looks down at me, smirking slightly when he sees my reddened cheeks.

"I mean, not that you were flirting with me or anything," I say quickly.

"Nah, I totally was," says Lex. He bumps playfully at my shoulder, but looks away by the time I turn toward him. My gut twists happily—in a way it hasn't for a long time. Even with Wes, my stomach never feels as nervous and as excited as it does right now.

Lex turns toward a small brick building—one that looks fairly similar to the other dozen brick buildings on campus. He leads the way up a little path of rocks, and then holds open the door for me. Immediately, I am struck with the scent of coffee beans and fresh-baked pastries.

"Wow, this place is adorable," I say, bobbing my head along with the alternative music. It's a quiet coffee shop with an obvious hipster appeal. Even though I wouldn't define Lex as a hipster—I don't think I could define him as anything, really—he seems to blend perfectly with this environment. The warm colors, pleasant smells, happy people. All of it reminds me of Lex.

"What do you want?" asks Lex, nodding his chin toward the hanging chalkboard.

"Hot chocolate," I say, my eyes still on Lex.

Our eyes hold for less than a second before he looks back up at the board.

"No coffee?" he says.

"Nah, I'm not really a fan," I say, scrunching my nose. "Too bitter."

"All right," says Lex with a smile. He strides up to the register and orders a black coffee for himself, a hot chocolate for me.

"I can buy my own," I say quickly.

Both Lex and the register boy look at me with raised eyebrows. That hint of a smirk is back on Lex's mouth.

"I have money," I add lamely.

"So do I," says Lex. He nods toward the cashier, apparently giving the final say. The cashier takes his card and swipes it through the machine, barely giving me another glance.

"You didn't have to do that," I say, as soon as the cashier turns to make our drinks. "It's not like this is a date or anything."

"It could be though," says Lex. He turns toward me, suddenly serious. "If you wanted it to be."

His eyes hold me to him. More than anything, I want to say yes. I can't explain why—I know I'm not ready to return to the dating scene—but something about Lex makes me want to give him a chance. Or maybe it's a lot of somethings, like his intelligence or his kindness or his charm, not to mention his good looks.

"It's not a date," I whisper.

Lex scratches his neck and looks anywhere but me. My heart thrums in my chest, and I frantically scour my mind, searching for any way to fix this moment. Before I find a solution though, Lex turns back toward me. He doesn't look hurt or uncomfortable, not anymore. Instead, he has a slight smile and gentle eyes.

"Well then, consider this a favor," says Lex. "No strings attached. Just hot chocolate."

I can't help but giggle, but secretly, I'm wondering if I've made a huge mistake.