Boys are never something he had to deal with when I was growing up since I was too shy. This is all new to him. And I’m guessing if he hears a door shut, he may jump out of his skin, so I opt to leave it open. That way, he’s not forced to come investigate.

As Harbor stands in the middle of my room, I start to feel a lot like I did last night, introducing him to another part of my life. This room is more of a flashback and a homage to my childhood than who I am these days.

He circles the room, giving it a once-over before homing in on a corkboard above my desk. “You won so many awards.” Too many to display.

“I knew I had to be the best at everything if I wanted to get out of this town one day.”

Glancing back at me, he asks, “Is that the plan? To get out of Beacon as fast as you can?”

“Nothing about my journey has been fast. I even went to the university here because it gave me the best shot of having my school paid for.” I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands resting back on the mattress, and let him explore. “I would have gone wherever I got the best offer. It just so happens I got a four-year scholarship, including supplements for books and cost of living. That part of it doesn’t cover anything but my supplies, but I wouldn’t be going if I hadn’t gotten it for academics.”

Taking a seat at my desk, he spins in the chair to face me. “I knew you were on scholarship, Lark.”

My hands go out. “That obvious?”

He shakes his head, though. “My sister actually found you on the university’s website. You’re featured on the scholarship page.”

“That’s odd. Why was she looking for that page? I’m not trying to make judgments, but it seems like your family probably doesn’t need scholarship money.”

“She wasn’t looking up scholarship information. We’d never qualify for needs-based assistance anyway.”

I’m trying to connect the dots, but they aren’t coming together for me until I read between the lines. I’m not sure how to feel about being a research project. I sit up. “She wasn’t looking up scholarships. She was looking for me?” My arm flies out. “Did I pass your background check?”

“No. You’re misunderstanding,” he says in a calming voice. Maybe that’s his serial killer voice . . . I really need to lay off the podcasts.

“Am I? Because it sounds a lot like you were digging up information on me online.”

Sliding the chair across the floor, he stops in front of me and leans forward to rub my legs. “It was innocent on her part. I promise. After seeing us together at the gas station, she knew I was attracted to you and wanted to help me find you again.”

My hackles lower. “I didn’t even know she was there.”