“Your brother stays with you?”

“Only when he wants to get laid.” His gaze shoots to me. “I probably shouldn’t have revealed that, but I’d rather spend the night with you than listen to him and some girl bang all night.” He slows when the light turns yellow and then stops on red at the square downtown. “Between my apartment and the main house, he goes to mine. Not that he has much choice. My parents don’t approve of one-night stands.”

“Do any?” I laugh.

Chuckling, he replies, “Probably not.” The light turns green, and he begins to drive again but glances at me quickly.

“My dad would flip if he caught me and some guy in bed.”

“Some guy,” he repeats as if the words don’t sit right.

The image of him alone with “some girl” doesn’t sit right with me either. I reach over and rub my hand over his leg. I move away from that thought. “Are you free to come over for Sunday dinner?”

“At your dad’s house?”

“Yes. He’s making burgers and said you need to bring a side dish, but I can cover that.”

“No way. If he wants me to bring a side dish, I’m bringing it. I’m not starting off on the wrong foot with your dad.”

“There’s no starting off. You’ve already met him. Several times.”

“But this is the first time we’ll be hanging out. The game will be on, right?”

“He wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s the sound of my childhood.”

At the next street, he takes a right and then another left. I don’t ride my bike in this direction, which is opposite of where I live. Our little town has been growing steadily for the last decade, but I had no idea of the revolution happening on this side of town. “Who knew they were building low rises on the other side of campus?”

“I did since we deal with the noise every day. This is it.”

I jerk my gaze forward in anticipation. It’s a brand-new building, all right, but unlike the modern glass eyesore I expected, this building is designed in brick with black-framed windows and architectural detailing that could fool you into thinking it’s older.

Harbor pulls into the garage and drives down the row until we reach the parking spots closest to the elevator. He parks but doesn’t rush to get out. He doesn’t seem himself, which makes me tense. Surely, a messy apartment can’t be causing this.

We walk to the elevator holding hands, my backpack slung over his shoulder. His grasp is firm, his eyes forward, tempting me to laugh at how ridiculous the buildup of this apartment has become. When I lean against him, he automatically brings his arm around me. In his arms, the world doesn’t feel so heavy. Fights with friends and stress from applications all disappear when I’m with him.

When we get in the elevator, he picks the fifth floor. “The penthouse?” I ask, my gaze shifting from the buttons to him before I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflected metal of the doors. Pressing my hair down, I slide my hand lower, hoping to calm the chaos.