stack and flipped it over, pointing at the bottom. “Our website. The weekly schedule is posted there. We cater to anyone who has an interest in archeology, so we’ve got things like pottery reconstruction workshops, guest speakers, social events like potlucks and movie nights, trips to museums or exhibitions, and we also fundraise to help support students heading to archeological excavations and study tours abroad. Most events are free, but we do require an RSVP to our workshops so that we know how many materials we need.” She raked blonde hair streaked with pink over her shoulder and cocked her head with a smile. “Questions?”
“Yes. Where do I sign up?”
Erica laughed again and passed the clipboard over, where he jotted down his name and email address. That done, he said goodbye and carried onward with one last arm squeeze from Erica. She really was very cute, but there was nothing there—no spark of attraction, not even an interest to see if there could be. Nothing.
Besides, he wasn’t convinced that he would’ve acted on it if he had felt any interest. Even when he and Ethan had been living in different states, his occasional hookups had felt like cheating, despite he and Ethan having never been together.
And never would be.
It wasn’t only because Ethan was his best friend. It wasn’t only because he’d been in love with him for longer than he cared to admit and the thought of anything more, of being vulnerable in a whole new way, made him break out in a cold sweat.
It was because Ethan—steady, solid, dependable, protective, loyal, too-kind-for-this-world Ethan—deserved everything life had to offer, and that included a partner who wasn’t as emotionally damaged as Casey.
Before heading out, he stopped by the Hiking Club to sign up there too. At the last second, he also registered Ethan. Next, he stopped by the Mature Student Club only to discover that it catered to part-time students in their forties or older who were seeking new careers. Instead, he picked up materials for other clubs Ethan might be interested in, on the off chance he found the time for one. The Interplanetary Space Exploration Team, Cross-Stitch Fun-Stitch, Fine Arts Association, Biology Students Association.
Oh, hey. Chronic Illness Support Group. Casey grabbed one of everything—a brochure, a flyer, a list of upcoming support sessions, and a pamphlet containing additional resources—and went ahead and registered Ethan without bothering to ask. Even if he never had the time to attend a single session, at least he had the option.
That done, he finally exited the Student Union into an evening that had turned to twilight and crossed the quad again, this time in a different direction, passing by the closed-up Coffee Cart—an extension of the Coffee Shoppe on Main Street—a couple making out under a tree, and several lone pedestrians heading to and from the library.
Inside Glen Hill Hall, he headed to the auditorium for the information session on the archeology program’s summer field placement. Lasting six weeks, students would work with faculty members from GH’s Department of Anthropology on cataloging relics from an unidentified shipwreck in Lake Champlain.
Casey wanted on that team. Badly. Problem was, they were only accepting one freshman. One. And from the looks of things in the auditorium, there were about fifty other freshmen archeology majors vying for the same position.
That was fine. Casey had never backed down from a challenge in his life. He’d get that placement, otherwise . . .
Otherwise nothing. Literally. His boss at the Genealogy Center back home couldn’t guarantee there’d be a position for him next summer, and not having a plan made him antsy. Plus, every freshman who’d been accepted into the placement had gone on to participate in it every year until graduation or had become faculty research assistants. If Casey was accepted this year, there was every summer planned out for the next few years.
People got hurt—or worse—when plans weren’t followed. Like Casey’s dad. Ethan’s mom.
Plus, Ethan was looking into mentoring hockey camps in the state next summer, meaning they’d both be in the same place.
Smiling to himself, Casey chose a seat in the third row and acknowledged that he was, perhaps, too dependent on his best friend. How many times had he made the trip to Ohio while Ethan was playing in the juniors? Once a month at least for two seasons, so . . . a lot.
Ethan was his person, though. Forever would be. It was why Casey was here, at GH, the school that had recruited Ethan