“Forgive me for trying to get out and live a little—like everybody wanted me to do. And now that I’m doing it . . .” I grip my pencil so hard I nearly snap it. “I’ve got it under control, but thanks for your votes of confidence.”

“Fine,” Jayla says. “But I don’t know how you see this all playing out. Eventually, your parents are going to find out, and then what? Did you even see the guest post your stepmom wrote on ComicsAlliance last week about how corporations are destroying this industry? She name-dropped Mark Everlasting and The Geekery specifically, saying they were this totally insidious force, not even realizing they were already in her store!”

“I don’t care about our families’ stupid fight!”

Mr. Lillis walks in the door then with a huge stack of books from the library, and oh god, not another research project, but at least it spares me from having to reply. I pour myself into the lesson, desperate to tamp down everything Jayla’s stirred up in me. Maybe I haven’t been practicing as much, or maybe I just found a better cello-life balance. And maybe I don’t know how this will all come together yet, or what’s going to happen, but I do know I love being around him, and that his arms feel warmer than any arms I’ve ever felt in the history of arms.

When the bell rings, I bolt from my desk before Jayla and Nikki can stand up, running to the music room even though it’s not my period. I need to play; I need to make music; I need to be in control for once. Mrs. Carmine nods when she sees me cut into a practice room and then turns back to the students gathering for their rehearsal.

I play so long that I miss my next class, but it’s gym and Mrs. C will definitely write me a note to get out of it anyway, especially with the audition coming so soon. My phone vibrates on the music stand—it’s a text from Ridley—and I finish the Bach, smiling the rest of the way through.

•  •  •

I’m currently propped up against Ridley, using him as a half pillow/half desk, doing my lit homework while he scrolls through his phone and plays with my hair. Now that my parents know we’re together or whatever, they let him come over a lot—provided we keep the door open. It’s perfect, or it would be if I could stop obsessing over my fight with Jayla and the bigger problem of Ridley’s last name. I sigh and turn the page, and he gives my hair a little tug.

“You could just call her, you know?”

I roll to my side to look at him. “She should be the one calling me, right? She’s the one who’s pissed for no reason.”