The short walk to the tutor center is just enough time to scarf down my bagel. I reach for the door handle, but someone else beats me to it, opening it for me. I look up to thank them before walking through. I recognize him from my biology class, but I've never actually talked to him before.

"Hey... Ryn, right?" he asks. I pause racking my brain for his name, but I have no reason to have that information. I typically avoid any and all small talk with my classmates. Having to work with a partner in biology lab is more than enough socializing for me.

"Uhm yeah... hi," I manage, still caught off guard by him and this prolonged interaction. I finally allow myself to really take him in now that it's evident he isn't going to just accept my gratitude and move on.

He's handsome in a boyish way. His features are soft, but somehow also sharp like he's still growing into them. He's tall, not as tall as Taylor, but at least six feet. The almost black color of his nearly buzzed hair makes the hazel in his irises vibrant. I cross my arms and let this mystery boy talk to me.

"Beau Baker," he says, reaching out his hand. I take it and smile. He continues, "We have biology together. I usually sit behind you. I noticed you always know the answers to the Hopper's clicker questions so figured I could benefit from the proximity." The smile he flashes me is full of perfectly straight and white teeth. 

"So in other words, you wait to see what number I press and then cheat," I tease, and give a smile in return.

"I can't help where my eyes wander!" He throws his hands up in surrender.

I begin to tell him it's okay, that he could just sit next to me in the future. Before I can get it all out though, a large figure approaches in my peripheral making me suddenly aware that Beau and I are still standing in the doorway. I move to the side as Beau continues to hold the door for the next person. His attention remains on me though. It's only when I'm standing to the side of the door does the figure's face register with me.

"Hey Capt.! You ready to rip out some alternative hypothesis?" Taylor asks seemingly ignoring Beau as he moves to hold the door open too, pulling me by the wrist into the building with him as he does. I'm annoyed, not by the fact that Taylor is taking charge, but more because I let him. For a full five seconds we're back into our own little world. The people and noise surrounding us has been muted. Taylor smirks, but it's the wink that pulls me back into reality.

I turn back towards Beau, who is still just standing holding the door for other students walking in. I call back to him, "So Beau, let's just say if you get an invitation for a meeting from the student code of conduct board, I had nothing to do with it." I give him my best sympathetic smile, but only for a second before I let Taylor pull me further up the stairs. I can hear Beau laugh but I don't hear anything else he says or turn to watch him leave.

"So baseball boy, huh?" Taylor teases as we walk into our assigned room. I don't respond because I have no clue what he's talking about. Or at least that's what I'm going to claim if he continues to push the matter. Beau is the kind of guy I wouldn't mind flirting with, but it would never go anywhere. He's not my type, but no way would I admit that to Taylor. It would only lead into a conversation about what my type is. The last thing I need is to list off quality after quality that would point in an arrow head straight to Taylor himself.

"He was totally checking you out," Taylor says, slinging his things down before doing the same with himself.

"So today we need to finish the last page of your paper. I'll look over it and then you can turn it in. That way we can get a head start on the next one considering you will be traveling more now." Taylor doesn't argue and delves right into his paper. The act is alarming. I've never seen him this focused in all six weeks we've been working together.

I do wonder if his studious behavior is a result of nerves building because of the big game this weekend. He has a lot of pressure riding on him. Even though he has mostly placed it there himself, I know it's weighing him down. He also hasn't mentioned if his family is coming or not, even though I know they wouldn't miss it. From what he's said, his mom may be looking forward to his return even more than he is. I don't know what else it could be if it's not that. I'm tempted to ask, but for once I'm thankful for quiet study time. With my new newspaper assignment I'll spend a majority of my own free time at the game and then choosing and editing images to submit.

I finished my work fifteen minutes ago, and the silence from Taylor has been deafening. I fold her first and ask if I can read his paper.

"Yeah that's fine," he says without looking up from the laptop. I hear the ping of his email hit my inbox. I begin to read as Taylor closes his laptop and finally looks at me for the first time since we sat down.

"So are you going to the bonfire this weekend?" The question is the first he's asked in nearly two hours. I hope he catches the over exaggerated eye roll I give him in return. He should know the answer already. I do not look like the type to attend the annual football Homecoming Bonfire. Especially not when my father is the guest of honor.

"I can actually think of about three hundred other things I would rather do."

"Well Capt. That's the list item this weekend. Here is your—" He makes a show of checking his non-existent watch."Six hour warning."

"Have my eyebrows threaded, actually separate my laundry before I wash it, watch George Clooney as Batman, get my labia pierced," I mutter as I make edits on his paper.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he genuinely questions.

"Those are just a few of the things I would rather do than go to some stupid bonfire that celebrates the sport of football where everyone drinks way too much and I end up with a mystery body fluid on my shoes."

Taylor dramatically flips open his wallet, reaching in and pulling out a folded up piece of white notebook paper. The theatrics continue as he unfolds the paper slowly. When it is finally restored to its original size he makes a show of smoothing out the creases against his chest before bringing it close to his face and clearing his throat.

"If you look at our play here, this forward pass is labeled as a requirement to attend a campus affiliated event." He flips the paper around and points to the rough sketch of a football play he created in my room before karaoke. He titled the play "The Escape Route" in an awful attempt to show me how running said play would lead to me in the end zone and how my celebratory dance would be me getting everything I want. It serves as a reminder that what I want is to escape, straight off the field that is my dad's world.

The official list Taylor and Alyssa made must be housed on the opposite side, because he quickly holds it to his chest before I can look too closely. I tongue my cheek to keep from laughing at the adorable look on Taylor's face. Serious mixed with his playful side. I decide to indulge and play along. "I'm sorry Reed but according to that route, I'm supposed to run center and to the right. But we just ran that play last time and I think their offense will stop it right away."

He pulls the paper away and studies it again. "You're right Quinn. But I see a planned blitz, and I'm going to need you midfield with me so the play action can come off quickly."

I'm exhausted with the football talk and break character quickly. "But, my dad will be there to give a pep talk with the band," I whine.

"Even more reason you have to go. Let him see you in action! Besides, I know Anderson already asked Alyssa to go with him so you can't just sit in your room alone all night."

Damn Alyssa and her fast growing love for Anderson and all he and Taylor's roommates. Our trio has quickly been infiltrated by Taylor's entire house like a disease. I didn't ask for it, but I also can't stop it. I've spent more time with them in the past few weeks than I ever imagined. My name has even earned a place on the Mario Kart leader board in their living room. Anderson is also apparently how we landed ourselves in the prominent Wives and Girlfriends section at the game this weekend.

"I mean I could easily sit in my room and watch Bravo. The housewives reunion comes out tonight," I shrug.

Taylor grabs my hand and imitates a handshake. "Remember this?" he asks.

"The time you attempted to get Me Too'd?" I ask, pulling away from him. Taylor gives me a middle finger. I give him my best smile.

"You shook on it. We only have two months to finish this whole list."

I grunt an insult, which he tastefully ignores by moving around to my side of the table. He squats down shifting all of his weight onto the toes of his boots. He is nearly eye level with my seated frame. Taylor grabs my chin with his thumb and pointer finger. His thumb is so close to brushing my lip. My breath hitches as I wait for that very sensation, but it never comes. Taylor continues to let the tension build. 

"Haven't we been having so much fun, Quinn?" he coos. 

I try to hide the effect his touch has on my skin, but even with my attempted coverup, he has to notice. I'm trembling under the sensation. I pull away quickly before my body can involuntarily lean further into his touch. He remains a statue, completely unaffected.

I chew my cheek in consideration. Two months until winter break when this semester's grades are posted and the transfer applications will open. Two months to solidify my case to prove that part of my innocence still remains. Two months to paint the picture my dad has always wanted, a daughter who is willing and capable to be his version of independent.

I'll die before I admit that Taylor is right, but the list items so far haven't been torturous. Dare I say, I've actually enjoyed most of them? I've had the chance to try on different versions of myself like trying on clothing. With every new style or material there's no requirement to change anything about myself. I've only just explored parts of me more deeply. My original sense of style remains completely intact with the exception of a few accessories and personal touches.

It's turned my college experience into something I never thought I would have. At least not here on State's campus. I always imagined my real life, my real experiences, would begin once I slipped out from under the glass slide under my father's microscope. When I'm no longer being studied and analyzed for my moves, when I'm hundreds of miles away with Gabi, that's when I really get my beginning. With each list item though, and every night spent with Taylor and Alyssa, I can't help but feel like the beginning is being etched closer and closer to the now in my timeline instead of a distant starting point.

"Fine!" I whine. It's a fake one. I've already talked myself into the bonfire. It's just another chance to spend more time with him. Another chance to hear his laugh, to see his smile just like the one he's giving me now. He hasn't admitted it, but needs me this weekend just as much as I need him, I remind myself. Even if he didn't, I would go just to be near him.