“But Emery—”
“Don’t you see? We’re like Schrödinger’s cat, too. We know too much about each other from way-back-when to be strangers, and we don’t actually know each other at all, so we’re not quite friends. We’re sort of both and yet neither at the same time. And I don’t like it.”
“You don’t?”
“Do you?” I countered. “Look, it sucks that your letters went missing, and we both thought we’d been ghosted but…we have thisyear. Before you go to MIT and I escape to California—”
Xander looked up sharply. “You’re not staying on the East Coast?”
“I don’t know. A teacher suggested UCLA today and that felt like something perfect falling into place.” My smile collapsed. “It’s stupid to hope. There’s no way my dad would let me go, and I can’t pay for it myself. But it’s nice to have something to dream about, right?”
Xander watched me for a long moment, his eyes full of thoughts I couldn’t read.
“Okay,” he said finally.
“Okay…?”
“I’d like it if we were friends.”
“You sure about that?” I grinned. “I’d hate to violate Xander’s First Law of Neutrality.”
“I’ll make an exception. But maybe we should stay in a superposition. We’re friends until Tucker observes us, then we become strangers.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s all talk. And there’s nothing wrong with us being friends, right? It’s not like we’re… I mean, we’re just friends.”
“Right,” Xander said. “Just friends.”
“Good,” I said with a smile. “Glad we got that settled.”
Happy now? You and your “friend” with the super sexy arms can get back to work.
“Shit,” Xander said, checking his watch—an old Casio. “I’m afraid I used up our time talking about quantum mechanics, and you have that test coming up. You don’t have to pay me for this hour.”
“Of course, I will,” I said. “We still have next time. I’ll probably remember it better if it’s fresh, anyway.” I gave my old/new friend a little pinky wave. “Bye, Xander.”
His eyes widened and the blush returned to his cheeks. “Bye, Emery.”
Chapter 9
Xander
Saturday morning, I dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Underneath, I wore my old athletic tech shorts and tank top that I’d worn for training with my last crew. I’d been too young to row for University of Maryland and had had to find a junior league to keep my skills honed after Langdon.
Dean was waiting for me in the parking lot, where he leaned against the side of an old white Toyota Camry. The September sun was gold and bright, and there was a light breeze. Perfect conditions for being on the water.
“Thanks for meeting me.” I clasped Dean’s hand. “It’s not going to come off as favoritism, will it?”
He snorted a laugh. “You haven’t met Coach Daniels. Poseidon himself could have sent you to row for us, and Coach’d say,I need to see his stroke.How is your stroke, by the way?” he asked as we headed toward the Academy. “And which position are youpulling for? See what I did there?”
“Bow seat,” I said with an answering grin. “I like to think I’m pretty good. Our crew won a few titles.”
“Sweet!” Dean said. “If I may pour on some more Greek mythology, bow seat is Coach Daniels’s Achilles heel. It requires a special skill set, and he’s always complaining he can never fill it properly.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said as we stepped onto campus. The Academy rose up around us like a white-winged spaceship—enormous and sleek and reeking of wealth. “Rhode Island—and Castle Hill especially—is tiny. Where does the school get all its money?”
“The Richies set up a foundation that pays for everything,” Dean said. “But it’s mostly a few families who make it all happen. We call them the Big Five: Hill, Wallace, Winslow, Foster, and Mercer.”
My mind instantly sparked at hearing Emery’s family name, but I ignored it.
