Page 119 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

He shrugs. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Sebastian.” When he looks over at me, I tell him, “Next time, call me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stay at my house.”

He lets go of a humorless laugh. “Yeah right. I’m sure your mom would love that.”

“I’ll sneak you in.”

“I’m not going to risk getting you in trouble.”

“You won’t,” I tell him blindly, knowing that I have zero clue how to pull something like that off, but nothing about this situation sits well with me. “I’m serious. I don’t want you sleeping in your car.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Tilting my head, I silently call out his crap. This is a small sports car; obviously, it isn’t comfortable.

“It isn’t,” he defends weakly.

“Promise you’ll call me next time,” I tell him, and when he hesitates to respond, I press, “Sebastian, promise me.”

Reluctantly, he nods.

“Say it.”

“I promise.”

SEBASTIAN

“What about Florida?”

Harlow scrunches her nose in distaste, and I laugh.

“No.”

“Why not?”

With zero influx in her tone, she responds, “On what planet would you equate me to a sunny Florida girl?”

“Don’t you miss the sun?”

She shrugs. “Ehh, kind of, but not really.” She takes the laptop from me and starts punching the keys.

“Is your house always this quiet?” I ask as she searches for another college.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s nice.” I sink back into the couch, lean my head against the side of her arm, and watch as she scrolls through the Boston University’s website. “No.”

“What do you meanno?”

“Boston? Don’t you need really good grades to get in there?” After a few taps, she finds the GPA requirements, and when I look at the number, I tell her, “I’m already out.”

“Now you have me curious. What’s your GPA?”

I swear her grin is concealing laughter. “I’m not sure I want to tell you.”

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