Page 35 of On His Mind

“A family guy,” she says.

“No.” I shake my head.

“Okay.” She lets it go easy. “Everybody’s got a complicated family situation.”

I look at the floor. “I should go. The guys’ll be wondering.”

She nods. “Can you not mention this to anyone?”

I look down and nod. “Yeah. I promise.”

With that, I walk to the counter, finish the water, wash the glass at the sink, and set it in the rack. She comes over and slides my jacket off her shoulders and holds it out.

“Thanks for making my night better,” she says.

I take it and pull it on. It’s still warm from her, and then I head for the door.

“Percy?” she calls out.

I turn.

“I’ll see you around?”

I nod once, and then I’m out.

Chapter 8

Penelope

Thelastexamofthe semester is a drawing practical. They give us a prompt and a room. Mine is a small studio — a set of dimensions on a card, a window orientation, a ceiling height — and the whole task is to put it on paper so someone could build from it. For two hours, I’m in the zone, drawing this small studio as perfectly as I can.

Then I go home and eat the cupcakes I baked this morning to celebrate because I know I aced it.

Ivory has one exam left and eats one anyway, perched on the counter with her heels hooked on the cabinet the way she knows I hate.

“Come abroad with me,” she says, not for the first time. “Barcelona.”

“You said Paris last week.”

“Paris, then. Imagine us in Paris.” She licks frosting off her thumb. “You have the money. You have the grades. You’re a month ahead of everything, same as me. There is no reason.”

There’s one reason, and she knows it, so I don’t saymy motherout loud.

Ivory’s face goes soft in a way I don’t love. “You even engineered a way out of going home for Christmas. I noticed. Very impressive.” She sets the cupcake down. “And now you’ll sit here alone in a dead town while everyone we know clears out, and you’ll tell me you’re fine.”

“I have work.”

“You have an internship.”

“A paid one. And Lyla. And I’ll get Taylor to drive out.”

She looks at me. We both know Taylor, my best friend since we were fifteen, has never once made the drive and won’t ever.

“When I actually leave,” she says, quieter. “To live abroad. Who are you going to have?”

I don’t answer because the honest answer is a list of people who want things from me, and she’d know it. She pulls her binder out of her bag and opens it to the first page.

“Test me.”