A group of first years rush past me, nearly shoving me out of the door in their hurry to start Thanksgiving break. I've just finished my last exam, and all I want is to collapse on the nearest soft surface in the Physical Kids cottage. The walk from the classroom feels endless, my mind still foggy from the final test.

When I finally reach the cottage, I find Eliot stretched out on the couch like a cat claiming sunlight through the window. Something about seeing him in casual clothes, without his usual vest, hits me differently today—warmer, more intimate.

"Is there a reason first years were stampeding past me like the place was on fire?" I ask, collapsing onto the couch beside him.

Eliot blinks open one eye and raises an eyebrow. "Q, please tell me you haven't forgotten what day tomorrow is."

My brain goes blank. What day is tomorrow? Then it hits me like a brick. "Shit, tomorrow's Thanksgiving."

Eliot snorts, sitting up and passing me a blue drink. "How could you forget? Margo and I spent hours on fall decorations."

As the reality sinks in, panic starts to rise. I told my dad I'd be home for Thanksgiving. Not just home—home with my boyfriend. The boyfriend I broke up with a month ago.

"This is bad," I mutter, burying my face in my hands. "This is really bad."

Eliot puts an arm around my shoulders, his warmth seeping through my shirt. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

I lift my head, considering whether to confess my predicament. "I might have told my dad I'd bring my boyfriend home for Thanksgiving." I pause, then add, "And I might have broken up with said boyfriend a month ago."

Eliot studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he takes a drink from his flask and says, "Why don't we try something easier? How about you ask someone else to go with you?"

My heart skips a beat as I realize what he might be suggesting. This is a terrible idea. Eliot is the last person I should ask. The person I've been secretly in love with for months. But I'm desperate.