“I can’t.”
“Lilah,” I said, voice softening, “you’ve been studying for hours. You know this stuff. You’re just?—”
“Panicking?” she muttered.
“Yeah. Spiraling. You need to get out of your own head.”
She groaned quietly and dropped her face into her hands. “Easy for you to say.”
I sighed and stood up. “I’ll get you another drink, okay? And in the meantime, don’t read any more of the book.”
She sighed but let the book fall closed and leaned back in her chair to wait. I jumped to my feet and went to order her another disgusting drink that could barely be considered coffee, keeping one eye on her the whole time. I was pretty sure the barista tried to make conversation with me but whatever she said went in one ear and out the other because all I could think about was Lilah.What else was new?
I grabbed the drink the moment it was done and put it down in front of Lilah. She just stared at it for a long minute. At first, I was worried I’d remembered her drink order wrong. But then she turned the cup toward me so I could see the name written in Sharpie on the side.
LILAH’S BOYFRIEND
I grinned. “Well, it’s not inaccurate.”
Lilah shook her head and took a sip, sighing gently. So I guess I did get the order right after all.
“Now what you need is a mental reset,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
“By thinking about literally anything else,” I said, and when she gave me a skeptical look, I added, “Like… this weekend.”
Her brows knit. “What about it?”
“Our romantic getaway,” I said with mock gravity. “Two lovebirds driving across the province. Scandalous.”
That got a snort out of her. “It’s not a romantic getaway, Tino. We’re staying at Luca’s house—it’ll be us, my two brothers, my sister,andthe whole band. And probably all of their girlfriends stopping in every day. I don’t really see us getting much alone time.”
“Anyways, point is: this weekend is your reward for surviving Brontë and whatever existential crisis she’s putting you through. And aren’t you excited to see all your siblings?”
Her shoulders relaxed just slightly. “That’s not how school works.”
“It is in my version,” I said. “You get through the quiz, and then we escape. No homework, no whispers, no anyone. Just us, the road, and my terrible singing voice.”
“Oh, great,” she said dryly. “Can’t wait for that.”
“Don’t act like you’re not excited.”
She hesitated—just for a second—but then the corner of her mouth tugged up. “Maybe a little.”
“See? Progress.” I nudged her knee under the table. “Now that’s the face of someone who’s not actively planning her funeral.”
She rolled her eyes but she was smiling for real now, the tension finally cracking.
I let the moment hang there, quiet but warm. Her eyes drifted back to her notes, and this time when she started reading again, she didn’t look like the words were trying to drown her.
“Hey,” I said after a minute.
“Hmm?”
“You’re gonna do fine on Friday.”
She looked up at me then, and for a second the teasing dropped away.
