The third week of classes passed nearly as uneventfully as the second, but the crushing pile of rumors post-Gryffindor "get-together" mixed with the pulsating excitement of the first Hogsmeade weekend seemed to give the castle a frenetic energy. Dominique Weasley insisted that I hang out with her during the village trip, which I agreed to, as we only have a few classes together and I've somewhat missed her squealing.

I still haven't quite figured her out, though. I assumed when I met her that she belonged to the popular crowd, but she sort of floats between friend groups, never latched down into one clique. My roommates couldn't give me a straight answer when I asked about her earlier that week, with Gabrielle Ancrum commenting simply that she hasn't been the same since she came back from her term at Beauxbatons last year.

Regardless, though, it's Dominique that I meet in the Great Hall that morning of the Hogsmeade trip, and true to form, she squeals happily when she sees me wander in, one hand pawing at the sleep dust in my eyes.

How she's this awake this early and how exactly she's sitting at the Gryffindor table without breaking into Slytherin-pride hives, I'll never know, as I immediately press my head against the smooth surface of the table. It's far too early in the morning for my liking, although that's not unusual.

"Guess she's not a morning person, then," a familiar voice cuts in. Deep and sort of gruff, but still smooth, if that's possible. James? Oh, God. Too early to deal with him.

"Aria, it's time to wake up," Dom hums angelically. One hand grasps my shoulder as her perfectly manicured hands gently shake me. "There's bacon this morning."

"Bacon?" My head perks up at that, just enough so that my eyes can scope out the table, but I see no precious crispy strips of fat and oil. Liar.

James lets out a snort at me from across the table, his eyes crinkling up at the corner in clear amusement, then shovels a couple of pieces of… something towards me. "Here you go."

"What's this?" I manage to choke out. Because it's certainly not bacon.

"Er… bacon?" James sends me a look that strongly suggests he desperately fears for my sanity but holds back whatever quip he's about to let out as Jett drops down beside me with a heavy yawn. "Morning, mate."

"Morning," Jett replies through another yawn. A sleepy, half-closed look flits through his eyes and - Merlin, how does he look this good at eight in the morning? Just adorable, really, in his wrinkled t-shirt and - nope. Not going there. Not going there.

"So," Dom trills in my ear, and I turn gratefully away from Jett to face her. "The weather's supposed to be absolutely gorgeous today. Maybe we could go hang out by the lake before hitting Hogsmeade?"

"What do you say, Nolton? Up for a day by the lake?" James inquires through a mouthful of eggs.

"Hell yeah." Jett nods emphatically and shovels a bit of toast onto his plate. "Meet you ladies down there?"

"Perfect!" Dom exclaims excitedly. And just as I'm about to bite into one of the foreign bacon slices, she grabs my arm with a grip strength that someone her size should definitely not possess and tows me away from the table.

She's right, though. The weather today is gorgeous - or at least it is when we finally stroll out of the castle two hours later. I must have a totally incorrect definition of the word casual, because in my mind that involves throwing on a cute but functional top and calling it a day. For Dom, it means makeup, curled hair, and the perfect outfit, although I suppose that's really how she dresses every day, so maybe it is just casual to her.

The sun beats down on us, unseasonably warm for September – or so I'm told – as a light breeze ruffles through the trees on the outskirts of the lake's shore. Everything looks so beautiful, so picture perfect, that it's almost unfair. A crystal sky filled with puffs of white clouds, the Giant Squid trolling lazily through sparkling water, and - well, Jett.

He really does look like something straight out of a movie. Sun glistening off the perfectly tousled light brown hair, tanned muscles flexing as he lazily stretches, and – dammit. I can't like him. I won't.

I'm not ready. Not after the disaster of last year. I need time for myself, time to sort it all out, time to lock up everything in the past and move on. Jett doesn't play into that equation. Nobody does. No matter how cute and funny and sweet they may be.

Course, it's rather hard to ignore him once he drops down into the grass beside me and lets out a deep, contented sigh.

"Hey." I smile and avert my gaze to the other boys, who've just arrived as well. Connor Finnigan, who I've barely spent any time with, let alone spoken to, stretches out next to Dom, lying back lazily in the grass beside her.

Dom flicks her eyes up to the beautiful sky above us, face flushed from the heat of the sun. She probably shouldn't have come outside, with how much color she's already gotten – oh. Oh, no. No way.

She's blushing.

Merlin. It's so obvious, and yet somehow it went right over my head. I mean, yeah, we've only known each other for like three weeks, but with the number of times she's gossiped with me between classes… and not mentioned Connor. She never mentions Connor.

She's got it bad.

Dom's blush fades to annoyance, however, as her cousin comes bounding towards us with a mischievous glint in his eyes and stands above our huddle, blocking the sun. "Why," James demands slowly, "has nobody gone in the water yet?"

"I'm tanning, James. Step out of my sun," Dom replies, tone wavering between exasperation and boredom.

"You can't tan in Scotland."

"Yes, I can. And will."

"Whatever." James swats lazily at Dom, who simply huffs until he takes a step to the side. "Who wants to swim with me?"

His eyes flicker over each of us – well, not really, he definitely skips over Dom quite fast – but nobody makes a move. I mean, what does he expect? The water's cold. Nobody in their right mind would actually want to swim today. We're just out here for the "aesthetic," according to Dom. Although that didn't stop her from shoving a bathing suit in my hands earlier.

"All right, then," James hums innocently, but I swear I can see the mischief running through his eyes as they catch the light. "Up you go, new girl."

Wait, what?

Before I can process what's happening, though, he scoops me up into his arms like a rag doll. And, as if the heart attack he just gave me wasn't enough, it's really, really uncomfortable, what with our bodies pinching together – ouch, I think my head just smacked his jaw –

A loud burst of laughter drifts our way from the shore, as apparently Connor and Dom find my kidnapping absolutely hysterical, but I'm a bit more preoccupied with the fact that James just darted into the icy water. Goosebumps erupt as small splashes hit my skin, contrasting oddly with the heat radiating from his body and the sparks practically jumping from his eyes.

"Put me down, James," I mutter as he grinds to a stop, nearly up to his knees in water.

"Very poor choice of words."

"Huh?"

Then he drops me.

Into the lake.

In my clothes.

And it's not even deep water, either, so my ass hits the rocky bottom of the lake while the water sinks over me, chilling every inch of skin. Needless to say, I am not happy. Really not happy. Like, pumpkin-juice-explosion not happy.

Water drips back into the lake as I slowly get to my feet, hair turning into icicles on my back, and turn to face him with what I'm sure is a murderous expression. James simply grins happily at that, though, and before I can blink, his head goes dipping under the murky surface of the lake. By choice.

And when he pops back up from beneath the water a few seconds later, he's not shivering or… well, anything really. Instead, he simply wipes the water out of his eyes and flicks his head around like a wet dog, hair flying all over the place.

"Thanks, new girl," he calls at my retreating back as I splash my way towards the shore. "That was fun."

Fun.

Oh my God. I just - I can't. I can't deal with him.

I never thought I'd say this, but thank Merlin Dom forced me to wear a bathing suit beneath my clothes. So, first my tank top comes off, followed by my shorts, and – well, now I really wish I had my wand so I could magically dry them. Dammit.

Jett hands me a towel once I reach our spot by the shore, only the smallest bit of amusement flickering at the corner of his lips, but glances back towards the grass he's been ripping out of the ground once I grab it from him. Great. I'm officially less interesting than grass.

I shiver a bit and pull the towel closer to my body as James follows me back to the shore, shaking out his mess of hair again. Dom screeches slightly when a few drops land on her skin but I bite back a laugh and watch as James pulls his t-shirt off, throwing it into a crumpled heap on the grass.

"Finnigan, race to the water?" James asks, shoving one hand back through the matted ink on his head. Connor shoots him some kind of weird, bro-like look as he casually throws his arm around Dom, so James instead shifts towards Jett and his grass-ripping obsession. "Nolton?"

Beside me, Jett glances up and nods, then pushes to his feet. James's trademark grin flickers across his face as he stands there, watching Jett expectantly, and – wait. Jett switches his gaze from James to me, as if he's just remembered I exist, and pulls off his t-shirt with one smooth motion.

"Here," he murmurs, passing it down to my still-shivering figure. "Keep warm."

Then he sprints off towards the water, James hot on his heels, and, well, yeah. I actually don't know what happens after that, as my head feels a bit foggy and my heart's gone wild in my chest and – did that actually just happen? Did I faint from lack of sleep and dream up this whole thing?

But no, I can't have, because his shirt's soft beneath my fingers and when I pull it on it fills the air with a mixture of outdoorsy sweetness, flavored here and there with light notes of mint. Of course his cologne would smell like that. It's so Jett.

Speaking of –

Holy mother of wrackspurts. Did my jaw just drop? Or gape? Yep, definitely gaping slightly. But – I mean – shirtless. Shirtless Jett. In the water. Oh my God. He's – am I drooling? I'm not drooling, am I? That would be so embarrassing –

"Hey, Aria," Dom hums, but I can't pull my gaze away from the water because just look at him. "Snap your eyes back into their sockets, love."

Apparently I'm not the only one having difficulty breathing, though, because I hear hushed whispers float through the air towards us, followed by a sprinkling of giggles. I don't even need to turn and look for them to know who stalked the boys out here. The Gryffindor girls (minus Lila Andrews, who's too busy with Lucas DuPont to hang out with them now, apparently. It's a major scandal in the girls' bathrooms), probably led by that brunette girl, Grace Clarke, plus any other hangers-on they've brought with them.

They don't deserve my attention, though. Jett certainly doesn't think so, as he doesn't even glance in their direction when the girls wander over to drag their feet through the water. James, however, soaks up their laughter and soon has them drifting further into the water for some kind of splash fight, which prompts Connor to finally abandon Dom's side.

"So," Dom says primly, turning to face me once she finally tears her gaze away from the water. "You like Jett."

"I do not –" I splutter, but she simply waves me off. Ugh.

"You so do. And you should go for it! You would look so gorgeous together. Oh my God, I can just see it now, Aria and J–" I cut Dom off, though, with a slap of my hand over her mouth, as her voice has gotten steadily louder and louder in that Dominique way of hers.

"Shut up," I hiss, gingerly retracting my hand to wave at the boys now glancing curiously in our direction. Nothing suspicious going on over here. Nope, nothing suspicious at all. "Besides, I mean – I don't know. He's really sweet and nice and so cute, but I just got out of a relationship and I don't think I'm ready for that again – plus I don't even know if he likes me back, you know?"

It all comes out in a rush, the words blurring together, but Dom nods wisely and turns to meet my gaze, placing both hands on my shoulders seriously. "Aria. He fancies you."

"How –"

"Oh my God, it's so obvious. Everyone knows. Just look at that huge pile of grass he ripped out so he wouldn't gawk at you in a swimsuit. That's why Grace Clarke dislikes you so much, she's been trying to get with him for ages –"

"Wait, does she really dislike me?"

Dom rolls her eyes dramatically at that and flips a few blonde strands casually over her shoulder before turning to peer at the girl in question, who's still splashing in the water with James and Connor. "Is that really what you got out of that? Come on, I just told you that Jett – hi!"

"Hey." My heart nearly drops into my stomach at his voice, but I'm sort of frozen, eyes stuck watching Grace Clarke because I know if I look at him I'm going to blush a bright, embarrassing Gryffindor red because Jett's right there, right in front of me, all shirtless and – dammit. "Could I have that shirt back now, please?"

Shirt?

Oh, right. My eyes flicker down to the soft material I've knotted in my hands before my gaze flickers back up and – God. Stormy eyes. Wet. Shirtless. Breathe, Aria. Don't stare.

"Hmmm," I hum softly, glancing back down at the shirt I'm wearing. Of course I'm not really debating, I just can't look at him without getting all flustered. "I don't know. My clothes haven't finished drying yet, and I really like it."

Jett laughs, but I refuse to look up and see how he gets that dimple on the right side of his face when he smiles. Damn, why do I know that?

"Let's make a deal, then. You give me my shirt back, and I'll give you my jacket. Sound fair?"

Okay. Yeah. I can do this. If I give him his shirt, he'll put it on and then I can look at him without having a minor heart attack. Perfect.

"You've got yourself a deal, Tiberius."

"Fantastic."

I allow myself just a few seconds to look at him after I pull off the shirt, but Merlin. Those seconds last an eternity – or, rather, I wish they would. Sadly, though, Jett tugs his t-shirt back on, then tosses me a jacket with a grin that looks suspiciously similar to James's mischievous smirk.

And it doesn't take long to figure out why.

In my hands, of course, is a jacket, just like he said. Only problem? The little fact that it's his Gryffindor Quidditch jacket, complete with a scarlet number four, roaring lion, and "NOLTON" emblazoned on the back.

"You cheat!" I blurt out as I jump to my feet, but Jett's already running away, a laugh trailing off his lips as I chase after him. "I can't wear this!"

"Sorry, Fields!"

"Dammit – Nolton," I huff between breaths. He's much faster than I am and I know there's no way I'll actually catch up to him, but – oof.

Well, never mind, then.

My hands land flat against the hard planes of his chest – thankfully now covered by a t-shirt – as I grind to a stop, as Jett has apparently decided to take mercy on me. His hands, meanwhile, have found my waist, and – shit. We're close. Really, really close. Like, I could kiss you right now close.

"Just wear the damn jacket, Aria," he murmurs. "You're shivering."

Oh. Yeah. Guess I am. Kind of forgot all about the cold. Funny how that happens when you can't think about anything other than how close you are to Prom King Jett Nolton.

I take a step back, though, breaking out of my trance when I hear a not-so-subtle cough echo towards us from the lakeshore, where I can just barely make out Grace's head of curls. Jett's hands drop from my waist and he clears his throat before uncomfortably glancing away. Great. Now everything's awkward because we had a… moment. Not like I have to work with him in Potions until January or anything.

"Fine," I sigh heavily. Jett smiles as I pull the jacket over my head, but whether it's teasing or genuine, I can't really tell.

And… the jacket's actually really nice. And warm. Very, very warm. Dammit. I bet Aiden would murder me if he ever saw it, so it's a great thing that we have Quidditch tryouts today, huh?

"Red and gold suits you," Jett comments, and this time I know he's teasing as that James-esque smirk flickers across his lips.

"Oh, shut up," I mutter, giving him a light shove. He laughs at that – a loud, carefree laugh that seems to roll across the grounds – and shoves me back as we begin trekking back to the rest of the group. "Thanks, though."

"Thank me by going to Hogsmeade?" Jett asks casually. We're nearly back to our little group, who've since tramped out of the water, and I grab my still-damp shorts and tank top from the ground to wiggle on beneath his jacket. "We could ditch the rest of these idiots. James has got the GGG hanging on now and I really can't stand them."

Wait.

Did he – did he just ask me on a date? Or is this like a friend thing? I mean, it definitely wasn't planned or anything, just spur of the moment, but – I don't know. Most rumors in the bathroom stalls over the past few days have focused on who's taking whom to Hogsmeade, as apparently that's the hot date spot. But, like, I don't want to assume just because Dom said – and he is my Potions partner so I can't offend him by saying no if it's a friend thing, and – I kinda sorta really want to?

Shit.

I like him. A lot. Too much.

And even though I shouldn't, I nod happily with a chirp of "Yeah, sure," and Jett's arm drops around my shoulder. Nerves go fluttering through my stomach, the same ones I had at the party last weekend, so I pull in a deep breath to relax.

...except his cologne fills my nostrils, that sweet outdoorsy smell, and that only makes the nerves worse.

Jett, however, pays no mind to my inner turmoil and simply adjusts our path away from the lake, angling us down the sloping grounds towards the entrance gates. "See you later," he calls over his shoulder, and I glance back in time to see Dom clap her hands in delight. And, unfortunately, to see Grace Clarke shoot a death glare in my direction.

Which reminds me –

"What the hell's a GGG?"

"Hm?" Jett hums softly.

"You said James has got the GGG hanging on, I think? Somebody really has to explain all these British slang words to me, like what was up with that bacon at breakfast –"

"Oh, right," Jett says with a laugh. We've nearly reached the gate now, so he pauses as we enter the line forming to check our names against the village permission list. "Gryffindor Giggling Girls – Grace Clarke and Lila Andrews and their crew. That's just my name for them. Bloody annoying, really."

The walk into Hogsmeade takes a bit, but I don't really mind, as Jett still has his arm around my shoulder and that easy flow of conversation through his lips. The first three weeks of school, Quidditch, a hint of flirting, Quidditch again, a British slang lesson, more flirting, and – Merlin. I've got it bad. Really, really bad.

He's just… kind of perfect. And I - I don't know. I've spent the past week or so in denial because I'm not ready for that. The last time I did this, the last time I got these utterly cliche butterflies and nerves – it still hurts.

But Jett kind of makes me want to forget about all of that.

The way he laughs, with his head thrown back and dimple popping, the warm September sunshine glinting in his eyes – I – he's not like – like Ryan. It's the first time I've thought of his name in weeks, and just the sound of it in my head sends stings through me, but I know Jett's not like him. He's not. He's kind and thoughtful and sweet and – God, I sound like a member of the GGG, but it's true.

So that's why, when he turns to me after a bit of wandering around the village with a nervous expression on his face, panic triggers in my head. I like him – I really, really like him – and what if he knows and he doesn't feel that way and I ruined our friendship and he's such a good friend, really –

"Hey, Aria," he breathes. The backdrop of the village frames his face as I glance up into his eyes, but the fairytale shops fade away as he takes a step closer. "I don't want to make things awkward, but I – I kind of – I mean, I do – I – I'm really sort of – I'm really into you." He pauses, sucking in a deep breath with an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "And I get it, you know, if you don't feel the same way, but I just – we're Potions partners until the Christmas holidays so I just thought you should –"

And that's how I wind up kissing Jett Nolton against the side of a building, his fingertips burning into my waist and mine twining through his hair, and as my back hits the wall everything spins into a dreamy haze. I catch glimpses of the world around us – snippets of laughter, bells above shop doors tinkling, a flash of curls – but Jett's the only thing solid. And it really, really scares me how much I like it.