The question takes me aback. “Of course, we’re that serious.”

“But it’s your first real relationship?”

“I’ve dated guys, Amanda. You act like I haven’t. Because I didn’t sleep my way through Beacon doesn’t mean I’m naïve.”

She laughs, but no humor is found in her eyes. “Is that what you think I’ve done?”

“No, it’s an example of experiences, a comparison of what the expectation is for one against the other—”

“Stop it! Stop being book smart and shit. I may have slept with a few guys, but at least I didn’t fall for their lies.”

Lies?

I take an exasperated breath and slowly exhale. “Is this what we’re doing? You’re going to make up stuff about Harbor to put doubts in my head? For what? To keep me living here a few more months?” My arm flies up from my side. “I leave next summer for med school.”

“If you get a scholarship.”

I’m left speechless.

If. If . . . She says it like I’ve forgotten the deal, like I’m suddenly living in la-la land because I’m with Harbor. I swallow the hurt, and reply, “Yes. If I get a scholarship. Where do you stand with that? Hoping I don’t so I can live here with you for however many years, or . . .?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lark. You know I want you to get what you want.”

“That’s an odd way of saying I believe in you.” I clear my throat and rub my lips together in thought. I’m lost on which direction to take this conversation. I decide I can’t leave what she said unaddressed. “By trying to sabotage my relationship with Harbor by inferring he’s being dishonest with me will only push me away from you. I don’t want that. Please.”

She pushes off the countertop and retrieves her phone from the table. Her fingers fly furiously across the screen, and then she tosses it to the couch.

Trying to keep my cool, I ask, “What are you doing?”

She shrugs and shoots her nose into the air. “Dane will be over in a minute.”

“Why? He has nothing to do with this.”

“Because you have Harbor to talk to, and I have Dane.”

“I’m sure that goes over really well with Mia.”

“It does, actually. We’ve become friends.”

A shiver of betrayal runs up my spine. “Friends?” I ask, wide-eyed. “She called us whores because she couldn’t grasp the concept that guys and girls can be friends without fucking.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “Guess she figured it out.”

Frustrated, I rub my brow. When I finally look up again, I say, “I don’t like fighting with you.” Returning to the living room, I try to temper my emotions. “Forget about Dane and Mia. Let’s not fight. Let’s talk, just the two of us.” We sit back in our respective spots on the sofa, but Amanda stares at the TV. The movie is paused on one of her favorite scenes. It’s one of mine, too. I say, “I wasn’t going to be able to commit to another lease because of med school.”