My mom glances between it and the twins. “Boys! What did I tell you about playing in parking lots?”

“Sorry, Mom,” they both mumble.

“Thank you,” my mom tells Harrison, taking the soccer ball from him and tossing it into the minivan. “It was very nice of you to bring this over.”

“No problem. I’ve got younger siblings too.” Harrison smiles at my mom, then shifts his gaze to me. “Hi, Cassia.”

“Hey, Harrison.”

I can feel eyes bouncing back and forth between me and Harrison, but I resist the urge to look over and see who is paying close attention to us.

“Have fun on the trip?” he asks, in that easygoing way of his.

“Yeah, I did. The Met was cool.”

“The Met was a highlight for me too.” His tone is light. Flirty. We were part of the same group for the museum tour.

I smile, not sure what else to say. Harrison smiles back, but it drops off his face quickly.

“Baker.” Holden’s voice is close. Right behind me.

“Hey, Adams.” Harrison mirrors Holden’s polite, detached tone.

I play with the zipper of my jacket as he glances between the two of us.

“I’ll see you guys later.” He gives me another smile, one that looks more forced, before he walks off.

“Your bag is in the car.”

I glance over one shoulder, meeting Holden’s gaze. “Thanks.”

A small nod and then he leaves as well. I can see Finn waiting on the opposite side of the lot, along with Mark and Jordan and a bunch of his other friends.

My parents start piling all the younger kids into the van. Maggie walks over and nudges me in the side. “So really, how was it?”

It’s rare my little sister is interested in what I have to say. Most of the time, it feels like our roles are reversed. Like she’s the wiser one between the two of us when it comes to life experience.

“It was fun.”

“Did you—y’know—do anything?”

“There were tons of trips. We went to the Empire State Building and the Met and—”

Maggie snorts a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Belatedly, I realize what she was actually asking. The senior trip debauchery is legendary, and she was asking if I partook.

For a split second, I indulge the idea of telling her I drank tequila, went skinny-dipping, and then had sex with Holden Adams.

Would she even believe me? She’d probably consider it a joke. Even if she did believe me, Maggie is notoriously terrible at keeping secrets. She spoils group gifts for our parents every year.

“I think he likes you.”

My head snaps to the side. “What?”

“Harrison Baker. I think he likes you.”

“He was just being nice.” I fall back on my standard answer, smothering the disappointment Maggie wasn’t talking about a different he.

“He came over here, Cassia.”

“So did Holden.”

“Yeah, but he’s Holden.”