“We broke up.”

“Which explains why you’re here. And in such an excellent mood, too.”

“Wow. You could show a little sympathy.”

I grinned. “Maybe if you weren’t such a man whore, I would. Trey, I really do need to work now.”

“All work and no play . . .”

“Means I might actually get a stipend next year.” The Creative Writing Program at NYU awarded all incoming students departmental fellowships. The prospect of doing nothing for two whole years but concentrate on my writing seemed like heaven to me. The MFA program even had a writers’ residency workshop in Paris. Not that I could afford that. But to get in, I needed more than an offer of half-tuition remission. I needed a full ride.

I resecured my ponytail. Trey’s pacing was getting on my nerves. “You know, it wouldn’t do you any harm to study now and then.”

His face clouded. “You sound like my grandfather.”

“I like your grandfather.”

“Because he respects you. He doesn’t tell you that you’re worthless and irresponsible.”

My own grandfather—my mother’s dad—died when I was little, leaving behind a faint, comforting impression of tobacco and whiskers and strong, callused hands. I never knew my father’s father at all. But in his pictures, he looked a lot like old Mr. Laurence—same ramrod posture, same pride and privilege, same clean, white, ironed shirt.

Trey might have a job waiting for him upon graduation. But . . . Well, he’d be working for his grandfather, right? Mr. Laurence was proud of his grandson, no doubt about it. But he must be over seventy now, a generation older than my parents. A tough old bastard. It wasn’t always easy for Trey, growing up as the sole focus of his grandfather’s attention and ambition.

“What happened? Are you two fighting again?”

Trey gave me a smoldering look. “He said no to my study abroad next semester.”

“Oh, Trey.” I closed my laptop. Paper or no paper, we were friends. And friends sympathized with each other’s disappointments. I knew how much he’d been looking forward to spending a semester in Italy. “I’m sorry.”

“He threatened to cut off my tuition.”

I winced. Ouch. “He’s afraid of losing you.” Like he lost your father, I thought.

“I should just drop out.” Trey flung himself on the bed. “Go anyway.”

I sighed. “Don’t be stupid.” I sat beside him on the bed. “At least wait until after graduation.”

“Is that what you would do?”

“You know I want to go to New York.” As much as I wanted to travel, my student loans wouldn’t wait while I backpacked across Europe. Over the summer, Aunt Phee had hinted she might come through with a nice graduation check. But I’d already earmarked that money for grad school. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me.” I took his hand. “It’s only another year or so. You just have to make the best of things until then.”

Trey’s hand tightened on mine. “I wouldn’t mind so much if . . .”