He frowned, and I braced myself.

Stupid.

Why did I say that? At best, I had a lecture coming. At worst… something else.

Frown lines creased his perfect brow. “Abena, it’s bad form to rescind an acceptance. Especially if it’s at a school where I pulled strings for you, like Georgetown or George Washington.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at the pulled strings. It wasn’t worth the fight. Keep your cool. Breathe. Don't say anything. “Of course,” I muttered. Ever dutiful. Sometimes I just wanted to scream at myself. Or him…

“Some dreams aren’t meant to come true. I mean, let’s face it, your photos are okay, but you’re not exactly doing gallery openings, are you?”

I bit my tongue. As if I wouldn’t have been able to get into those schools on my own. As if his talking to a couple of professors had been the thing that made the admissions boards sit up and take notice. He’d only just graduated from law school himself and was an associate with Walters and Logan, a big law firm in town. His family name might have pull, but he, himself, did not. I’d gotten in on my own merit.

But with practiced ease, I kept my thoughts to myself. “I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to do that. I’ll think about it carefully.”

He snatched up the hem of his sweat-sodden T-shirt and used the material to wipe his brow. The view of his six-pack and strong chest muscles should have had me salivating, should have had me begging to join him in the shower.

Too bad I knew what was under the perfect façade. And it wasn’t pretty.

I wanted him to be supportive. I wanted him to believe in me. I wanted him to be who he pretended to be. But at the moment, I just wanted him to get into the shower so he would stop dripping on my floor.

“I’m getting in the shower. What’s for lunch?”

I swallowed. “I’m making chicken salad.”

He sighed, clearly unenthused, but headed off toward the shower anyway.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was deliberately pushing the dates for accepting an offer. Letters of acceptance into law programs from Georgetown, George Washington, John’s Hopkins, American University, and University of Maryland all beckoned to me in a neat stack.

But I didn’t want to have to think about them. Easton had left them there purposefully, so that every time I walked through our dining room, I’d have to see them. The spiteful part of me yearned to disorder the tiny pile. But I restrained myself.

Petty isn’t a good look.

No. It wasn’t. And it certainly wasn’t becoming of the perfect girlfriend of Easton Peters.

The problem was I didn’t want to be a lawyer. Sure, it was the natural choice in a family full of them. Both my parents were attorneys. Even my oldest sister, Akosua, was. My middle sister, Ama, had broken the mold to go to medical school, but still, it was a profession the whole family approved of. Not like my passion, photography.