“Yeah, you definitely can’t wear that to the award ceremony.” I turn toward my drawers, trying to find the gift I got for him. “My dad will be up here in a minute, probably.”

“Wait, what is this?”

I turn back to see him holding my vibrator. My eyes widen. I leave it under my pillow, but never figured he’d go snooping. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are burning.

“Miles.” I dive for it, but he just holds it higher. “That’s not yours. It’s private.”

“Obviously.” He glances at it with a grin. “How many settings does this thing have?”

“Ugh.” I smack my hands against my thighs. “I was gonna give you something before my parents show up, but now you don’t get it.”

“A present?” His eyebrows rise, but he still holds the vibrator above my head. “What for?”

“I don’t know.” I step back, turning toward my drawers. “I’m pretty sure today is important.”

“Really? I think I forgot.”

I glance back at him. He’s smirking.

“Whatever, you don’t need your gift,” I say, turning away. “Anniversaries are for old people, anyway, and it’s only been three months.”

“I was just joking.” He leans against my back. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” I say, pulling out the box. “You look pretty sometimes, too.”

He plops on my bed, the vibrator resting on my pillow, which is so weird. There have been many nights where I’ve sat here and talked to him, thought of him. “Um, maybe you shouldn’t sit on my bed. I just—I do stuff there.”

“Really?” He snickers. “With the vibrator?”

“I don’t have to talk about this.”

“Wait,” he says, pulling his bag open. “I have something for you, too. Even though anniversaries are for old people. It’s for good luck.”

He tosses a maroon bundle at me, and the box in my hands topples to the floor. I glare at him, but his face doesn’t change at all.

“You’re a pain,” I mutter, unwrapping the bundle. It’s a black sweatshirt with a golden Hamilton logo in the center. “Okay, I actually really love this. Now I have my own lucky sweatshirt and it’s awesome.”

I pull it over my head and get stuck halfway before wriggling through.

“Ugh,” I say. “Now my hair’s all messed up.”

“It’s fine,” Miles says. “It’s always fine.”

“You’re such a sap,” I say, even though I am, too.

“Maybe,” he says. “What’d you drop on the floor?”

I glance down at the box. Giggles escape my lips.

“You okay there?”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “They’re condoms. I got, like, four different kinds and put them all in here. There’s ordinary latex and glow-in-the-dark and blueberry and ‘intensified orgasm,’ which sounds fun.”