I drop my phone to the mattress and stare, blankly, up at the ceiling. My heart is pounding in my chest and I rub a hand over my breastbone, feel the quickened beat just under my palm. My stomach feels both light and heavy at the same time, and even though the idea of shutting off my phone and sleeping for another three hours sounds amazing, I’m kidding myself if I think I might actually do it.

Harlow will be here to pick me up in thirty minutes, and regardless of what I should be doing this morning, something tells me we both know I’ll be standing outside, waiting.

AND LIKE SOME boy with a school yard crush and no real responsibilities, I am. Harlow’s car pulls into the driveway exactly twenty-nine minutes later, and I’m already sitting on the porch, two cups of steaming coffee in hand.

She steps out and crosses the damp grass toward me, dressed in jeans and a faded blue long-sleeved T-shirt, hair in a high ponytail, wearing a bright smile and not a trace of makeup.

I’m pretty sure she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Ready?” she says, stopping just in front of the porch. She looks so much younger right now, innocent, and if the reappearance of that nosedive feeling in my stomach is any indication, I’m in way over my head.

“Not remotely.” I glance down at her outfit again. She’s gone pretty casual today. I lift an eyebrow. “Looks like for once I meet the dress code.”

“You’re perfect.”

Steady, Finn.

I hand Harlow her coffee and she looks at me, brows raised. “Such a gentleman.”

I ignore this, not wanting to obsess any more over the five-minute conversation I had with myself on whether it would be weird, or give Harlow some giant glimpse into my head if I made her a cup of fucking coffee. I am insane.

“So where are we going?” I say instead.

Harlow turns and leads us back to the car. “Fishing,” she says, climbing in and starting the engine.

I look up from where I’m currently trying to wedge all six foot, three inches of me into the front seat of her sports car. “What?”

She checks her mirrors and backs out of the driveway, pulling out onto the street before she answers. “I figured we’re here, and you’ve got to be so fucking tired of doing what everyone else wants to do. Plus I’m sure you miss home,” she says. “So why not give you a little taste of home, here?”

She must misread my stunned silence, because she quickly adds, “I mean, I know it won’t be the same for you, but trust me, Sunshine. It’ll be fun.”