“How about you, Rowe? What are you studying?” my dad asks, and I feel her grip somehow get even tighter. You’d never know the exertion happening under the tablecloth by the look of complete calmness Rowe is showing up above, and I’m actually pretty impressed.

“Well, I haven’t really decided yet. But I’m thinking about philosophy or art.” Her voice trails up at the end, almost like she’s asking a question, so anxious for my parents to approve. Rowe has no idea how perfect her answer was, but she’s about to find out.

“You know, Cathy’s an artist,” my dad says, always the first to brag about my mom.

“I have a small studio,” my mom says modestly. The truth is my mom has three small studio galleries in New Orleans and California, and she sells a lot of her work. She does sculpture and metal work, and I don’t know much about her world, but I know people pay her a lot of money when they commission a piece.

“You should check out my mom’s website,” I say, getting Rowe’s attention. “She does metal sculpture. I bet you’d like it.” Rowe bites at her lip and smiles, her grip on my hand loosening with every minute that passes.

“Here…I have a card.” My mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a bent card with her website listed on it, and Rowe studies it closely.

“Thanks, I will,” she says, her smile somewhere between wonder and relief. She leans down to tuck the card in her purse.

Rowe relaxes even more when the waitress shows up, cutting her interview with my parents short. Minutes later, we’re all picking at the loaf of bread dropped off at our table, too interested in the garlic butter and toasted edges to pay any more attention to conversation.

I let Rowe’s hand go, but only for a few minutes while we place our orders and take our drinks. And as soon as the waitress leaves our table, I reach for her again, and her hand is actually waiting for mine.

“Oh, we ran into the Maxwells,” my mom starts, sucking all air from my lungs. I don’t know why she thinks this is a good direction for dinner talk, but I’m rapidly trying to get Ty’s attention, hoping he can help me make a conversational U-turn somehow. But no, he only makes it worse.

“Yeah? Was that slut Sadie with them?” Ty has a way with words, and those just made sure Cass and Rowe were completely dialed in on whatever my mom says next.

“Ty, your mouth,” Mom says.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I guess the appropriate term is hooker. Is that the nice way to categorize your brother’s cheating ex-girlfriend?” I kick Ty’s chair under the table, and he finally looks up. “What? That’s what she is!”

I keep trying to motion my eyes to Rowe sitting next to me, and finally he gets it and just mouths sorry, returning his attention to the salad now in front of him.

“Anyway,” my mom continues. “We didn’t see Sadie, just her parents. But they said she took the scholarship to Oklahoma State.”

Great. My cheating ex-girlfriend, the first and only girl I said I loved, is playing basketball for a college less than ninety miles from me. And I find this out while desperately clinging to the fingers of the girl sitting next to me. The girl I want. The only thing I’ve thought about since I met her almost a month ago. The girl who says I’ll probably never meet her parents because we’ll never be anything more than whatever the hell it is we are right now. And all I can do is be okay with it all, because her problems are a hell of a lot heavier than mine.

“Ha, I bet you run into her,” Ty says, and this time I throw a piece of lettuce at him, like I’m four. When my mother isn’t looking, he just gives me his middle finger, and Rowe lets go of my other hand.

Rowe

Everything changed when Nate’s parents brought up Sadie. His posture was different, his breathing was different, the way his hand felt in mine—different. Nate’s mom told a few stories about him and Sadie, talking about how they won prom king and queen in high school, and how Nate had this secret crush on Sadie his junior year and used to go to all of her basketball games and leave before the end of the fourth quarter, afraid to talk to her.

I had a hard time imagining Nate being anything other than confident, which made me start to wonder about how different he is with me. Sadie had his heart, as far as I can tell. At least, she did until she betrayed him—Ty wasn’t shy about sharing that part, about how Nate walked in on her with his best friend at their graduation party.

The walk home with Nate, Cass, and Ty felt strange now that I had all of this new information, too. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe hearing about Sadie had brought up old feelings.