Mrs. Merit shot me a look, but she continued passing out the study guide for the final. “This is a fifth of your grade, ladies and gentlemen. If you intend on walking in Saturday’s graduation ceremony, I suggest making time to study this sheet.”

I held the paper in front of me, seeing all the questions to the test, accompanied by the correct answers. Mrs. Merit’s study guides were always the test and answers in order, and I wondered if the final would be any different. Regardless, just memorizing what answer went with what question would be enough.

“Did you get the punch out of your dress?” Sara asked.

My eyebrows pulled in as I processed her question.

“Your prom dress. I heard Brady spilled his punch on you—well, tossed is more like it.”

I nodded.

“Did he really pour it over your head?”

Brady’s face came into focus just over Sara’s shoulder. He was staring at me with the only eye that wasn’t too swollen to see. I focused back on Sara and then back down to the paper.

“If it’s true, he deserved those shiners. And if it’s not, he probably deserved it anyway.”

“Nobody deserves that,” I said quietly.

Sara seemed shocked, but she didn’t speak. She glanced over her shoulder to Brady, who looked away. “From now on, I bet he’ll keep his drinks away from you—and anyone else he might have wanted to pull that with.”

I pressed my lips together and continued reading down the line of questions, pretending to study them, while Mrs. Merit’s voice droned on in the background. It was hard to concentrate while so many thoughts were swirling inside my head.

The rest of the day seemed to take forever, yet before I knew it, Weston and I were picking up art supplies next to the mural downtown. Mrs. Cup watched us all like hawks. If it seemed we didn’t have complete control of our paintbrushes, she would make sure we remembered her threat to fail us if we used the paint for anything but the mural.

After we were done, Weston held open the passenger door, and I climbed in. He stared up at me, a storm brewing in his eyes. He had been quiet all day, and I wasn’t sure when he would decide to talk about what was bothering him.

He made me wait until we were in his basement.

“Do you have homework?” he asked.

“I have to study for finals.”

“Me, too,” he said, picking at the sole of his shoe. He was quiet for several moments, and then he heaved a heavy sigh. “What if I…” He frowned.

“What if you what?” I said, pressing him.

The room was quiet. The television was dark. Peter and Veronica were still at work. The basement felt a mile underground instead of just downstairs. But still, he wanted to tell me whatever he had been holding back in the privacy of his space, on his turf, where he felt safe and in control. I swallowed. For the first time, I felt scared of what he was about to say.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked.

He made a disgusted face and turned away from me, shaking his head. “You would have to be my girlfriend for me to do that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Every inch of my skin felt raw, like the scars I’d built up over the years had just disappeared, leaving me defenseless.

Weston was instantly sorry for his comment, grabbing my hands. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that you aren’t really mine. At least, that’s how it feels.”

I stood up. “Then, what are we doing?”

Weston coaxed me back down to sit next to him. “I’m saying this all wrong. I’ve been going over what I would say all day…all week, and I’m still screwing it up.”

“Screwing what up? What is going on with you?”

He took a deep breath. “It freaks me out when you talk about August. I think about our relationship existing on the phone and holidays, and it freaks me the eff out, okay? I thought maybe…I was thinking I could enroll at OSU. Then, maybe if I’m there at O-State with you…”

“What?”

“Then, this morning, you…I remembered…”

“Remembered what?”

He breathed out like he’d been punched in the gut. “You don’t need me, Erin. And that scares the hell out of me.”

I thought about his words. He looked wounded, and even though I wanted to be truthful, it was dishonest to hurt the man I loved.

I carefully chose my response. “What makes you think I don’t need you?”

He looked away. “You don’t need anyone. I was…I’m too late. I waited too long. You’ve had to build walls. You’ve made plans for your future that don’t include me. Maybe it’s pathetic that I’m thinking of ways to keep from losing you, but I’m finally where I want to be.”

“You want to be in Dallas.”

“I want to be with you.”

“Weston, couples go to different colleges all the time. It’s going to be an adjustment, not seeing each other as much, but it won’t be the end of the world.”

“See?” This time, he was the one standing up. He pointed at me while pacing. “That. That right there. Yes, I’m worried about going in different directions, that we’ll grow apart, that you’ll meet someone new. You’re not?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“The fact that you’re not worried about it kills me, Erin. It makes me wonder if you love me at all.”

The skin around his eyes was tight, and I could see his pulse throbbing on one side of his neck.

“You want me to make promises I can’t keep. You said we would wing this together. I’m winging it. I don’t know what has changed—or why.”

He grabbed the remote off the table and chucked it across the room. The black plastic exploded into a hundred pieces, bursting in every direction. I jumped, covering my nose and mouth with my hands.

Weston clasped his fingers at the crown of his head while he continued to pace back and forth, his cheeks flushed with frustration. “We’re a little past winging it, Erin! Don’t you think? I mean, what is this to you? Are you just passing the time until you leave for college?”

“No!” I said.

I was half-insulted but also half-desperate to make him feel better, to calm his fears, but neither one of us knew what would happen for sure. He would know I was lying if I tried to say otherwise.