“I have no idea what any of that means,” she says, crinkling her nose.

Why should she? I’m doing a terrible job of explaining myself—and probably pissing her off in the process. I clench and unclench my fists at my sides and try again. “I think all of this pretend dating messed with my head. I started to imagine that we could work as a couple. For real. But tonight, I remembered the reasons that isn’t a good idea. I need a sense of security. Normalcy. Order. It’s what I’ve been working toward my whole life. I have a plan—”

“And I don’t fit into it,” she says, scowling. “Got it.” She gives me a dismissive wave, as if she’s over this conversation—over me, too. “You’ve got every single one of your remaining days on God’s green earth mapped out. Where the hell do I get off interfering, am I right?”

“Oh, c’mon, Solange. You don’t even want to be a part of my life plan.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” she asks, her face tilted as she lasers me with those damn bottomless eyes.

“Well, if you thought there was a possibility of a future for us, you would have been up-front with me. Can you truly say that’s the case?”

“Who are you? The Riddler?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest. “You obviously have something on your mind. Just spit it out.”

“Fine,” I say gruffly, the muscles in my jaw tensing. “Why didn’t you tell me about your offer from Victory Academy?”

She scoffs, then begins to pace the hall, and it’s like I’m watching a snowball gather force as it covers more ground and picks up speed. “Because I haven’t decided one way or the other yet, and I need to do this on my own. And okay, yes: I don’t want you to be a factor in my choice. Because that would be a mistake, wouldn’t it? You refuse to fall in love, and I refuse to be with someone who won’t love me. You’re not wired for romance, remember?”

“Can you blame me?” I say, pointing at my door. “Solange, without me, she’d be out on the streets because she thought he was ‘the one.’ Listen, I know firsthand how volatile relationships can be. One day you’re in love. The next day, you’re not. You have expectations, and when someone doesn’t meet them, you’re disappointed. Gutted, even. Why wouldn’t I want to take all of that out of the equation?”

She tugs on my wrists, as if she wants to shake some sense into me. “Because then you’re just existing. Is that what you want? To go through life being physically present and emotionally absent?”