Page 82 of Swear on My Life

“I pay the rent. That’s part of the deal to live here.”

After a rapid succession of blinks, she says, “But how? You don’t have job.”

Setting my fork and knife down, I push the plate a few inches so I can rest my palms to the counter. “I have a monthly stipend. It covers the rent and my car.”

“That’s some allowance.”

“Stipend,” I correct. “There are expectations put in place. Rules we have to follow.”

“Like?”

“Like keeping a certain GPA, not getting arrested or parking tickets.”

Her fork hits her plate with a clatter. “You mean doing what you’re supposed to do? Follow the law, make good grades, use good judgment, exist. You’re telling me you get some ridiculous amount of money each month simply for existing?”

Normally, I’d get heated by her reactions, but I understand it this time. Staying calm, I reply, “I don’t expect you to understand it. I’m just explaining how it is.”

Maybe it was my tone, or not hiding my privilege, but she doesn’t rattle off an angry list of how life is unfair. She looks at me, straight in the eyes, and says, “It was a turquoise Hermès bag.”

She could have gone in a totally different direction with her reaction. But she choseusinstead of our differences.

29

Lark

From the lowestof the lows to floating on air, I can’t say today started out as the best, but it ended that way.

Harbor turns off the TV after watching, or what it looked to be judging by his face—suffering,Pretty Woman, and we decided to call it a night. He sends me into the bedroom while he turns out the lights and checks the locks. I always feel safe in his arms, but I really enjoy how good it feels in his space.

I keep thinking about the offer he put on the table. CouldImove in with him after such a short time of dating? Would it feel right not to contribute to the bills? My heart sings from the possibility of having to focus only on school. As much as that would be an amazing opportunity, I can’t stop thinking about what happens when this school year ends.

It’s not just the living arrangement that concerns me.What will happen to our relationship?Although we talked about it, I worry about the impact.

I open the door and flip on the light. Standing in the doorway, I look back over my shoulder to see him turning the lamp off. “What is that?” I ask, knowing he’s not going to tell me, but it’s fun to try.

“A present. You don’t have to wait for me. You can open it.”

I get closer, but only enough to admire the blue ribbon wrapped around the white box. “Why did you get me a gift?” I ask, loud enough for him to hear me in the living room.

“Because I wanted to.”

Startled because he’s right behind me, I playfully elbow him in the abs. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s not the point of a gift.” He lifts me and plants me right in front of the present. “Open it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Fine.” It feels weird to get a gift out of nowhere, and I wish I had something to give him in return. “If it’s not a big deal, just tell me what it is.” I run my finger under the ribbon because it’s too pretty to mess up. It’s a fancy box like I’ve seen in the movies—one where the ribbon comes off the top—and not how people wrap presents in real life.

Harbor sits on the bed next to the box just as I lift the lid and move the tissue aside. I’m already smiling and glance his way. “You did not.”

“See? No big deal.”

“It’s a big deal, babe. It’s a big freakin’ deal, and I love it.”

I pull the shirt out of the box and hold it up in front of me. I can’t resist. I toss it to him and pull my own shirt off over my head. Standing there without a bra or shirt on, Harbor says, “I would have given you this sooner if I’d known I would get to see those tits.”

“Tits. It’s so, I don’t know. Vulgar.”

Shrugging, I say, “I think it’s direct.” He reaches forward and squeezes both at the same time. I stand in front of him and take my gift back, slipping the shirt over my head as he kneads anyway.

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