“Shit,” I whisper before holding the phone out for him. “You’re telling me Holden Sykes, campus playboy, and literal golden retriever, is a closet emo?” Noah snorts out a laugh. “Holden retriever.” “That’s going a bit far with it,” he says as he takes the phone from my hand while ignoring Noah’s joke. Yet, from the flash in his eyes, I’m taking it as a yes. Well, I’ll be damned.
