My family is in California at Easton’s, and I’ve spent the last two days since they left vacillating between regret over my decision to stay home and relief that I was smart enough to make that choice. Despite what I told my parents, I could’ve gone. I could’ve worked on my papers on the plane. My finals will be a cakewalk. I don’t need to study much. But I’m here, and the riot of fluttery insects making a mess of my stomach after just one text is enough to remind me I made the right choice. If I’d gone to L.A., I would’ve left my heart there with Easton. And I can’t do that. I need my heart.

The cutie math nerd across the kitchen table from me might object to me giving it to someone else.

My phone buzzes again. I watch Steve scribble in his notebook before I look.

Easton: Hold up. Carter said you’re going to New York with your BOYFRIEND.

Me: Not exactly with him. My boyfriend is also in my honors English class and is going on the same trip.

Easton: You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.

Me: I didn’t know you required updates on my love life.

Easton: Now you know. I require updates.

Me: His name is Steve. He’s smart and fun and sweet.

I stare at the screen too long. Aside from when he was asking me about the trip last month, we haven’t gone back and forth texting like this since before New Year’s. He sends me goofy memes from time to time, and we’re on a couple of group text loops together in which my brothers break down his games play by play and he pretends to appreciate their advice when he has a whole team full of well-paid professionals who know way more about football than they do.

He doesn’t reply. I bite back a sigh and put the phone down. I want to believe I’ve moved on, but a few text messages from him still get me tied up in knots. Pathetic.

Steve looks up from his notebook and grins at me. His eyes cut to the clock meaningfully. When he arrived tonight, he was all over me. I told him we had to study for one hour before we could make out. Now time’s a-ticking.

I return his smile, my cheeks heating and my thoughts blessedly turning away from Easton and back to Steve and an evening in the house alone. Right where they should be.

Then my phone buzzes again.

Easton: Is he good to you?

Me: I wouldn’t be with him if he weren’t.

Easton: So I guess this means . . .