Dane parks in front of the house. I don’t jump out since I’m kind of worried about him. “Working the late shift tonight?”

“I’ll be at the tattoo shop until two if you get bored and don’t want to go to bed.”

I still stay but open the door. Although I know he takes these after-hours shifts because he needs the money, I say, “Be careful. It’s still illegal to serve alcohol at a tattoo shop.”

“Getting paid under the table means twice the pay when not having to dole out for taxes.”

I nod in response, knowing he won’t give it up because of my warning. “I still don’t know how you manage the lack of sleep.”

“I sleep all day.”

“Good point. I have classes I can’t miss.” Hopping down onto the curb, I say, “I won’t be able to make it, but I’m sure Mia will be more than enough to handle tonight.”

He cracks a smile. “That’s what you never understood. You’re the only chick I know who I don’t have to handle. It’s just easy being friends with you.”

“Should I take offense to being called easy?” I grin, but he doesn’t. I snap my fingers. “Hey, that was supposed to be funny.”

“Sorry,” he says, forcing a smile. Leaning on the steering wheel, he looks ahead through the windshield, seemingly lost in thought again. When he turns back, he says, “Don’t settle for less than you deserve, Lark.”

This is unlike our typical conversations, so I can’t help but laugh awkwardly. “I’ll try not to.”

“No, I mean it. There are a lot of . . . There are a lot of shiny fucking objects that will draw your attention away and steal your heart. Underneath the gleam, they’re not like us.”

“Who’s they?” The words remind me of when Harbor asked the same question.

“You know who. The Pointe kids.”

An ache threatens my stomach as an image of Harbor fills my head. It’s as if Dane can read my mind. Am I that obvious?

He continues, “Their motives will always outwit your good intentions.” He shifts the truck into drive. “Don’t settle, okay?”

“I won’t,” I reply, not entirely sure what he expects from me. I step back from the truck and shut the door, though, as some form of guilt inches its way into my subconscious.

“See ya, Lark.”

“See ya.” His words slow my steps as I walk to the front door. Did he see Harbor and me talking last week at the party? Catch us alone upstairs? Or is Dane just looking out for me in general?

He may be sharing what he thinks is best, but he also tried to plant a seed of doubt.

He seems to have forgotten that I’m usually a good judge of character. I might have been blinded by Harbor’s good looks, and he certainly has a way with words, but our interactions have been sincere and not fake in any way.

Although Dane’s looking out for me, he’s also being overprotective when he has no need to be. Irritation covers me like an itchy wool sweater. I scratch my chest before the seed embeds itself and go inside the apartment.