“What do you mean?” she asks of me this time. “I’m just saying that if I were you, I’d rather hang out in a big apartment with my boyfriend than with my roommate at our place in a tiny two-bedroom, one-bath. Guess that’s just me.”

Nothing about this feels good. In fact, it doesn’t feel like us at all. We don’t play dirty with each other, so I’m thrown off by what’s really going on. Moving closer, I lower my voice since so many people are around. “Are you starting a fight with me?”

“Why would I want to fight with you?” She grips the straps of her bag, but her eyes never leave mine. We’ve been friends forever and can sometimes be a little blunt, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt that she’s just curious and at target practice taking aim at the first real relationship I’ve ever had and the only one that’s mattered. “What’s going on with you, Lark? Why are you defensive?”

“I’m not,” I reply, my neck jerking back. Okay, maybe I am defensive, but how could I not after that accusation? It feels more like I’m protecting a relationship that came when I needed it most. I look at my watch. “I need to go, or I won’t make it before the door is locked. Do you want to talk about this later?”

“Go.” She playfully shoves me toward my building, like we weren’t caught in the crossfire of our changing friendship. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

I start for my building but know we need to talk about this soon before it becomes a whole thing between us. It’s never good to let things fester. “Let’s hang out later. I can stop by the store and grab a pizza.” I make the offer, but I still feel a little uneasy in the wake of the conversation we just had.

Her expression lifts, and she waves. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“See you at home tonight.” Jogging to my building, me and another kid make it just before the door is closed. I find an empty desk on the far side of the classroom and swing my backpack to the floor. I don’t have any classes with Harbor on Tuesdays or Thursdays, but I wish I did. But then again, maybe that’s exactly what we need—us spending some time apart. I don’t know. Amanda’s gotten in my head.

How’s it different from what I was suggesting to Harbor on the ride in today? I don’t have to wonder because I know the intention. That wasn’t about pushing Harbor away. It was about making sure I don’t sabotage my future.

I love spending my days in his arms, kissing him, loving that man like he’ll be the last I ever will. Surely, Amanda can see how happy he makes me. I dig out my laptop and start taking notes, but my thoughts keep veering back to what she said about the partying, and regarding the apartment. Did I detect an insinuation that he’s keeping me away from it on purpose?