“Adrian—”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to work there forever,” protested Brayden. “I’ve already been accepted to USC, Stanford, and Dartmouth.”

Adrian nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that’s respectable. Although, I’ve always thought of Dartmouth as the kind of school people go to when they can’t get into Yale or Harv—”

“We really need to go,” I interrupted, grabbing hold of Adrian’s arm. I attempted to tug him toward the student parking lot and failed. “We don’t want to get caught in traffic.”

Brayden glanced at his cell phone. “Traffic patterns should be relatively light going west this time of the day, but being a weekend, you never know how tourists might alter things, especially with the various attractions in San Diego. If you look at traffic models applying the Chaos Theory—”

“Exactly,” I said. “Better safe than sorry. I’ll text you when I get back, okay? We’ll figure out the rest of this week.”

For once, I didn’t have to stress about handshaking or kissing or anything like that. I was too fixated on dragging Adrian away before he could open his mouth and say something inflammatory. Brayden, while passionate about academic topics and me disagreeing with him, tended to otherwise be pretty mild-mannered. He hadn’t exactly been upset just now, but that was certainly the most agitated I’d ever seen him. Leave it to Adrian to work up even the most easygoing people.

“Really?” I asked, once we were safely inside Latte. “You couldn’t have just said ‘nice to meet you,’ and let it go?”

Adrian pushed back the passenger seat, managing the most lounging position possible while still wearing a seatbelt. “Just looking out for you, sis. Don’t want you ending up with some deadbeat. Believe me, I’m an expert on that kind of thing.”

“Well, I appreciate your insider knowledge, but I’ll manage this on my own, thanks just the same.”

“Come on, a barista? Why not some business intern?”

“I like that he’s a barista. He always smells like coffee.”

Adrian rolled down a window, letting the breeze ruffle his hair. “I’m surprised you let him drive you around, especially considering the way you freak out if anyone touches the controls in your car.”

“Like the window?” I asked pointedly. “When the air conditioning’s on?” Adrian took the hint and raised the window back up. “He wants to drive. So I let him. Besides, I like that car.”

“That is a nice car,” Adrian admitted. “Though I never took you for the type to go for status symbols.”

“I don’t. I like it because it’s an interesting car with a long history.”

“Translation: status symbol.”

“Adrian.” I sighed. “This is going to be a long ride.”

In actuality, we made pretty good time. Despite Brayden’s speculations, traffic moved easily, enough that I felt I deserved a coffee break halfway through. Adrian got a mocha—“Can you spot me this one time, Sage?”—and maintained his usual breezy conversation style throughout most of the trip. I couldn’t help but notice, when we were about thirty minutes out, he grew more withdrawn and thoughtful. His banter dropped off, and he spent a lot of time gazing out the window.