I nodded. I knew very well. I based my revised sketch on it. But he didn’t need to know that yet. “I think it’s wise. You’ll be back strong next year.”

“Hopefully one year is all it takes.” He eyed my suitcase. “Another Hartman drive you out of town again?”

“That was unnecessary, Troy.”

“Sorry. But you just got here, Harp. Where you going?”

I didn’t answer his question. “I’ll be back. I’m not sure when, but I love the city—I’ll be back.”

“August told you that the reason I asked you out was to spite him?”

My brows jumped. “He did not, but thanks for that.”

He adjusted painfully to sit up. “You know I don’t read much unless someone tells me it’s about me. But I’ve been looking for those sketches I saw you working on at the beach house...I guess I kind of ruined that one for you, huh?”

“No. You might still see a version of it somewhere.”

He nodded understandingly. “I’m guessing not as glorifying as the original?”

I laughed. “Paranoid much?”

“No. Use it. Use me. Get your work out there even if it’s to scold my name. I deserve worse.” He coughed and winced in pain at his side. “Fuck that hurt.”

I scrunched my nose. “Can I get you something?”

“Yes.” He groaned and reached for his phone. “Take a selfie with me.”

“Pretty sure there are more important things you should be doing.”

“This is important.” He put his arm around my waist and pulled me slowly against his shoulder. I leaned in, careful not to put weight on him.

He snapped the photo and flipped back to admire it. Then hit the share button to his Instagram.

I frowned. “You don’t have any girls on your social media.” Troy’s page consisted of photos of himself, his car, clips from the game, and all things Troy.

He had half a million followers, with most of the comments from half the cheerleader squad from high school, including Gina Malone. It was how I found out he was going to be at Finnegan's that night of the season opener.

He shrugged. “You’re not just any girl, Harper. I won’t mention your name, but those who this is meant for will recognize you in a hot second.”

“Hmm…Like Gina Malone?”

Adding all his hashtags, he pointed a finger at me and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

I laughed. “Thanks, but you might have just started a war for me.”

“You’ll win. This is going to drive her mad. Ninety percent of our senior class is following me. You and August are like the only two who aren’t—losers.”

I laughed and smacked his shoulder, peering over it to see the finished post.

“Careful. We’re not the ones in a hospital bed right now.” His deep voice came from the door.