I say, “First of all, what’s a floozy? Secondly, you could always move in here.”

Her mouth falls open, but when the shock wears off, she asks, “And have your parents pay my rent? Um, that’s a kind offer, Harbor, but I don’t think it’s wise.”

“I pay the rent. That’s part of the deal to live here.”

After a rapid succession of blinks, she says, “But how? You don’t have job.”

Setting my fork and knife down, I push the plate a few inches so I can rest my palms to the counter. “I have a monthly stipend. It covers the rent and my car.”

“That’s some allowance.”

“Stipend,” I correct. “There are expectations put in place. Rules we have to follow.”

“Like?”

“Like keeping a certain GPA, not getting arrested or parking tickets.”

Her fork hits her plate with a clatter. “You mean doing what you’re supposed to do? Follow the law, make good grades, use good judgment, exist. You’re telling me you get some ridiculous amount of money each month simply for existing?”

Normally, I’d get heated by her reactions, but I understand it this time. Staying calm, I reply, “I don’t expect you to understand it. I’m just explaining how it is.”

Maybe it was my tone, or not hiding my privilege, but she doesn’t rattle off an angry list of how life is unfair. She looks at me, straight in the eyes, and says, “It was a turquoise Hermès bag.”

She could have gone in a totally different direction with her reaction. But she chose us instead of our differences.

29

Lark

From the lowest of the lows to floating on air, I can’t say today started out as the best, but it ended that way.

Harbor turns off the TV after watching, or what it looked to be judging by his face—suffering, Pretty Woman, and we decided to call it a night. He sends me into the bedroom while he turns out the lights and checks the locks. I always feel safe in his arms, but I really enjoy how good it feels in his space.

I keep thinking about the offer he put on the table. Could I move in with him after such a short time of dating? Would it feel right not to contribute to the bills? My heart sings from the possibility of having to focus only on school. As much as that would be an amazing opportunity, I can’t stop thinking about what happens when this school year ends.

It’s not just the living arrangement that concerns me. What will happen to our relationship? Although we talked about it, I worry about the impact.

I open the door and flip on the light. Standing in the doorway, I look back over my shoulder to see him turning the lamp off. “What is that?” I ask, knowing he’s not going to tell me, but it’s fun to try.

“A present. You don’t have to wait for me. You can open it.”