I quickly gather my things and head for Italian, taking my usual seat in the front. Miss Turano offers me a bemused smile, but I’ve done this thrice this week, so she turns back to the whiteboard less than a second later.

Busying myself, I take out one of my journals, outlining a new script idea that’s been roaming around in the back of my head.

As I work, a sliver of anxiety runs through me, reminding me that the USC decision is nearing closer and closer. One of these days, I’m going to wake up with an email from them, and it’s going to be an acceptance or a denial.

If it’s an acceptance...

My pencil falters, and I furrow my brows. If it’s an acceptance, I’ll have to leave behind New York City. I’ll have to leave behind Rosie and Anam. I’ll have to leave behind Queens, Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I’ll have to leave behind halal carts, the MTA, bright city lights, diverse faces all around me, and a world I know like the back of my hand.

I lick my lips, trying to push away that train of thought, but it proves to be a lot more difficult than it should.

Los Angeles will have most of those things. It’ll be fine.

But will it be the same? whispers that awful voice in my head.

Before I can think too long on that, Emmitt appears in my line of vision, leaning against the edge of my desk, sitting without fully putting his weight against the feeble plastic.

Then he reaches out, tracing letters into my arm.

I smile softly. “Hi to you, too. You know you’re kind of ridiculous, right?”

A crooked grin takes over his own face. T-H-A-N-K-S, he spells out on my arm.

“You’re welcome,” I say, biting my lip.

Emmitt’s fingers trail up the length of my arm, until he reaches the edge of my collarbone. Then they move farther up, gently sweeping up my neck, then brushing lightly over my lips.

“Where are your manners?” I ask, but watch in mild interest, nearly going crossed-eyed as his fingers shift to the curve of my cheekbone. My skin is overheating beneath his touch. Now that I’m aware of my attraction to him, it seems my body is insistent on reminding me at every possible opportunity.

I don’t know if we’re going to talk about that kiss—if it meant anything, or if we were both just caught up in the moment—but I don’t want to add more weight to his shoulders, especially with his mother in the city.