Seriously, it’s just chemistry.

Under my breath, I’m reciting the twenty-seven bones in the human hand as I do my best to ignore the twenty-seven bones of his hand that are getting dangerously close to the twenty-seven bones of mine. Quickly, I retract it from his reach and inconspicuously wipe the sweat on it off on my jeans (or I try to be inconspicuous, anyway).

Adam’s standing against the closed door of his dinky little dorm room (which I may or may not have let myself into without his prior permission or knowledge), looking at me like I’m deranged. “Did you just,” he asks slowly, “... bite me?”

“No.” I chew on my thumbnail, repeating (a little) more convincingly, “No. I most definitely did not bite you.” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, so maybe I did. But you were ignoring me. I had to get your attention somehow.”

He sighs, leaning towards me just a little bit in the weird habitual way that makes it seem so casual and unconscious, and I swallow thickly. My heart’s beating like the Energizer bunny on a triple-shot espresso. Monica told me matter-of-factly that I’m in hopeless, never-to-be-requited love, but I know better. My pulse is just jumping all over the place because of all the norepinephrine my brain’s producing. Really, it’s nothing more than that. I still think I might have to see a cardiologist though. This seriously can’t be normal.

“Hads.”

And I know only reason I want him to come even closer is because my nose is telling me that he’ll pass on favourable traits to our hypothetical future children. Jeez, is it even morally upright to have an immune system that smells so much like something you could (and would definitely like to) eat?

“Hads.” Adam’s hand is moving up and down in front of my face. Why’s he doing that? If he wanted my attention he could have just told me --

“Hadley, can you tell me why exactly you hit Monica?” He’s coming closer, and from this distance I can see every single shade of brown in his eyes. “Hads, you’re blushing.”

“It’s just vasodilation,” I reply in a strangled voice. Vasodilation caused by phenylethylamine because he was just so freaking beautiful that my brain and body decided that I really wanted to have his babies.

I think I can feel my substantia nigra pars compacta going into overdrive.

“Why’d you hit Monica?” he asks again.

“‘Cause she’s mean,” I say childishly, sniffing and sticking my nose up in the air. Stupid chemicals can't control me.

“You think your roommate and Ms. Jenkins are mean, too. Why don’t you hit them?”

“My roommate would probably sabotage my shampoo if I hit her.”

“And Ms. Jenkins?” There’s no way I can come up with an answer for that with him in such close proximity. “Why’d you hit her?”

It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts - stupid, stupid norepinephrine wreaking havoc on my nerves - before I answer, “She said I should just get over my crush on you because I’m not Adam Foster material.”

He has this wide-eyed, surprised look on his face - the same one he has every single time (seriously, every time) Mr. Walter calls on him in Physics class - so I rush to add, “But it’s not like I had a crush on you anyway! It’s just the dopamine and the norepinephrine and your pheromones talking! So don’t -- ”

“What in the name of all things good and holy is ‘Adam Foster material’?” His voice is incredulous.

“I dunno, but she said that you like pretty girls and that I’m -- ”

“Oh for the love of-- Will you listen to yourself, Hads?”

I frown. “But I do! Whenever I talk I -- ”

“Hads, are you stupid?”

“No, in fact -- ”

“No, no, no, just shut up for a moment -- ”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend of -- ”

But then I can’t even form another coherent thought because his hand is holding mine and his eyes have gotten all gooey and smiley and I can feel all the blood rushing away from my stomach and leaving tingles to mingle with my digestive juices. Ohmygod, he smells really good.

“Hadley, I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for months, and you still believe Monica Sykes when she tells you you’re not pretty enough for me?”

And then he’s leaning in and I admit to myself that maybe - just maybe - it’s more than just chemistry.