“Yeah,” I grumble as the teacher starts talking about the chapter I barely read last night before passing out in my bed. My bed which somehow smells more like Kingston than my own cologne or deodorant.

How the hell does he do that?

I think about our conversation late Saturday night about college. I had to apply. I’m sure I’ll get accepted, but I don’t know if I can get scholarships to cover it. That’s all I’m really worried about. The money. Money we don’t have. I know I won’t be going to college without scholarships covering everything.

Kingston loves it here. He loves having a good time and playing football—being the man in high school. And believe me, as quarterback and tight end for the team, we both walk tall down the hallways of the school, but I want more than this.

I know there’s so much more to the world than this tiny town has to offer. I don’t want to work in the oilfield or at the same distribution center my mom works at. I want to move to a bigger city. I want a career where I don’t have to break my back to survive.

I don’t want to have to work so damn hard for so little. That’s all anyone in this town does. It’s their only option. And I feel like a selfish prick for wanting out most of the time, but not one of them can tell me they wouldn’t jump at the chance to get out of here if they could.

I don’t know how Kingston can want this life forever. I’ve seen his dad, after working in the oilfield for years. His body is broken and worn down at only forty years old. He’s tired. So damn tired. And he’s a good man, so he doesn’t complain. But he’s exhausted, and his body is already giving out. His mom is the same. She works her ass off at the local café, waiting tables.

I don’t want that for me, and I don’t want that for Kingston either. But he’s stubborn as hell, and I don’t know if I can ever convince him to leave. He loves it here too much. Before I know it, he’ll be working at the plant while Kennedy pops out little Kingstons and Kennedys, and I’ll be Uncle Fucking Camden—grumpy as hell because I never got a chance to do anything else.

A wadded-up paper ball hits me in the cheek, and I turn around to glare at Kingston, who’s laughing his ass off while still being quiet. He leans up. “You’re daydreaming again.”