“Clyde’s a big fluff ball, the definition of all bark and no bite,” I promise, patting his head. Clyde sniffs the air, moving half a foot closer to Blake and tentatively licking his leg. “See?”

Slowly, Blake extends his hand to Clyde, who returns the act of trust with another lick.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“You never asked,” I say truthfully.

Blake opens his mouth and then closes it before opening it again, obviously picking other words to say. “That’s part of the reason that I’m here, actually,” he admits. “Can I come in?”

My pulse quickens again. Even though I’m pissed at my parents, I’m not ashamed of them. Never have been and never will be. I’m not ashamed of anything about my life. But something about having Blake inside of my home? It feels wrong—feels…dirty. And I can’t fully explain why.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“That’s not what’s…” I sigh. “I’m grounded.” I say it like it’s some dirty word, something I should be ashamed of admitting. Teens get grounded all the time. Isobel has been grounded at least a dozen times since I’ve known her. But being a “good kid” was a badge of honor for me. And now it’s gone. It’s something I’ll never get back. Maybe my parents’ validation means more to me than I thought.

“Seriously?”

I nod. “Two weeks.”

“No friends? What’s the name of that girl I saw before?”

“Isobel.”

“Yeah, her. She’s not here?”

I shake my head. “Only home and the library and back again.”

“Well, then that’s perfect, since, as we’ve established, we’re not friends.”

Before I can let him know that those semantics won’t matter to my parents, Blake pushes himself inside, walking quickly in his sneakered feet toward the sound of idle chitchat between my parents.

“Hey! You…wait!”

If there was any time for my pulse to race, now is the time. I close the door quickly behind me and gently tap Clyde’s rear, ushering him into the living room. “Stay.”

“Blake,” I hiss, walking quickly behind him. My heart rate increases with each step. The space between the dining room and the hallway decreases with each second that passes.

I have no idea what’s going to happen when Blake and my parents meet, but I know one thing: no good comes from two worlds colliding.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cobb,” Blake says in a voice that sounds like silk. “Hi there, I don’t know if your son told you about me. I’m in his class at school. Advanced Trig.”

“Calculus,” I say quickly, correcting him. “Blake was in Trig and switched to Calculus.”

“That’s right,” he says, without missing a beat. “Calculus.”