‘Who was the dragon?’

She smirked and sat, tucking wisps of hair behind her ears and pulling her knees to her chest. ‘The dragon was imaginary. Sometimes I wanted to be the dragon, though. Or the hero. But Evan wouldn’t let me.’

I lowered myself near her and lay back, hands behind my head. ‘That seems mean. I don’t have a sister, so I don’t know how that works. But if you wanted to be a dragon, you should have got to be a dragon.’ I thought of Carlie Heller, who at ten would make a kickass dragon, and who would have booted her twelve-year-old brother – literally – right off a castle wall, were he to suggest that she play a princess. Unless the princess wielded a sword.

Melody looked up at the stars. ‘Yeah, well. Evan was always basically a Dad clone, even when we were little. They get their way. Every time.’ She paused, sighing, and I wanted to pull my fingers through her hair and loosen her braid. Guide her mouth to mine and kiss her and make her forget the condescending guy who treated her like crap. ‘My mom is like this really strong woman to everyone but Daddy,’ she said then. ‘She says that’s what marriage is supposed to be. It’s give and take, but if there’s a real disagreement, the husband makes the decision.’

I thought about my parents and their relationship. My dad had never been expressive, but he’d been completely devoted to my mother. She could have asked for anything and he’d have given it to her, or tried to. Whatever you want, Rose. How many times in thirteen and a half years had I heard that?

He knows I’ll never ask him for anything that would hurt him, because I love him, Mom told me once. I trust him the same way, because I know he loves me, too.

‘Or the older brother?’ I asked Melody, who lay back beside me.

‘Or the older brother,’ she conceded. ‘Or the dad.’

I could see how Clark Richards fitted into this picture more clearly than I had before. ‘In other words, the man.’

She shrugged, watching me. ‘I guess.’

I frowned and peered at her. My mother was the most giving person I’d ever known, but she wouldn’t have tolerated someone making decisions for her, just because he was her husband. Or boyfriend. ‘That doesn’t seem right to me.’

She smiled. ‘Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter now. I don’t have to be anyone’s princess if I don’t want to. You can ask my mom – I’m definitely a fire-breathing dragon if I don’t get something I want.’

She didn’t even see it. She was her boyfriend’s captive princess. She would never be the dragon or the hero in his story. Those roles were already filled.

LUCAS

As expected, Jacqueline emailed and requested extra help with catching up. She thanked me for translating Dr Heller’s instructions, which could be unintelligible. His grad students could follow him, but he often lost a few of the undergrads. That’s why he had me.

I corrected her assumption that I was an economics major, attached several of the worksheets I’d created for the sessions she couldn’t attend, and ended with asking how her orchestra students had done at regionals. Then I added: btw, your ex is obviously a moron, and pressed send.

What the hell did I mean by doing that? It was beyond out of line to say that about any student – in an email, no less – to another student. Regardless if it was true.

I breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t refer to that impropriety in her reply, though she seemed to believe that helping her was a nuisance for me. I wanted to convince her of the wrongness of that impression. It had been a long time since I felt the sort of breath-stalling anticipation I experienced waiting for her name to appear in my inbox or the sight of her in class. She was the opposite of a nuisance, infiltrating my dreams and stealing into my waking desires.

She told me about her two freshmen students, who’d each cornered her privately to ask which one was her favourite. I laughed out loud at her answer to both of them – You are, of course – and her question to me – Was that wrong??

When I returned the worksheets, pointing out her minor mistakes, I confessed that a bass-playing college girl would have rendered me speechless at fourteen. I closed my eyes and imagined her as she was now, alongside the quiet disaster I’d been at fourteen, needing someone to just see me. I’d have fallen for her immediately, and hard.

And in case you’re wondering – yes, you’re my favourite, I added to the end of that message.

Totally inappropriate flirting, but I didn’t care. I wanted Landon to win her over, so that when she found out who I was, she would forgive me for being part of that night.

This was doomed. But I couldn’t stop now if I tried.

Friday afternoon shifts were often monotonous as hell – it had been ten minutes since we’d even had a customer. There were only two of us working the counter. If Gwen had been there, I would have welcomed hearing anecdotes about her kid’s teething or crawling or colic for the hundredth time just to break the boredom. I was working with Eve, though, who was texting nonstop, setting up weekend plans and leaving me far too much time to ruminate over my Jacqueline Wallace dilemma.

Absorbed in conversation, two girls strolled up to the empty counter. I recognized one of them as the redhead who’d come in with Jacqueline on Monday, then hugged her and sprinted away before they’d reached the front of the line.

From their Greek-lettered T-shirts, I deduced these two were sorority girls. In spite of her attendance at that party and her frat boyfriend, I hadn’t thought that pertained to Jacqueline – but it was entirely possible that she was in a sorority. Not like I hung out with that crowd enough to know who was or wasn’t part of it. Or care.