I feel more positive going into day two of Harvard life than on my first. Despite all my doubts, I’d managed to make it through without feeling like a complete imposter. True, I’m poorer than my peers, but our minds are equally keen. You’ve got this, Lissy.

I walk across campus with my head held high, confident in my belief that I belong—until I spot Connor swaggering across the grounds. His unkempt appearance is drawing stares from students. They part like the Red Sea when Connor passes. By the time he reaches me, I can smell the cannabis clinging to his clothes.

“Connor,” I hiss, “what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“It’s on silent. I’m about to go into a lecture.” I pull him toward me to the edge of the grounds, hoping to find a little privacy, although there’s really nowhere to hide. “You can’t show up here. It’s students only.”

He scowls. “You mean you’re embarrassed that I’m here?”

“Can you blame me? You’re high right now.”

He blinks at me. His eyes are red again, but he’s not stoned. It makes me worried that there’s more than weed in his system. “I’m not high.”

“Whatever. Look, I have a lecture about to begin. What do you need?”

“I need cash.”

“No.”

I turn and stride toward my lecture hall. Connor chases after me and grabs my arm. “Don’t walk away from me.”

I jerk my arm away from him. My face is flushed; I push my hair back and straighten my top self-consciously. I keep darting glances around the campus. Please don’t cause a scene.

“I don’t have money to give you. I gave you ten bucks yesterday.”

He scoffs. “And how long is ten bucks supposed to last in Cambridge? It’s your fault I’m broke.”

I laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. “How is it my fault?”

“Because you’re the one who wanted to move here. The cash I had was enough back in Holyoke.”

“Holyoke was a dump, and we were miserable.” I hug my books close to my chest and try not to lose my temper. “Besides, my scholarship is for full-time study. I need to be here, and as long as I’m supporting you, you’ll have to stick with me.”

“You didn’t even ask me.” He pouts like a toddler. It looks odd on his stubbled, hungover face.

“This opportunity was too important to pass up. This is the start of good things for us. If I get a good job, I’ll be able to take better care of the both of us. Don’t you want that?”

“I never wanted to leave Holyoke. I’ve got friends there.”

I sigh impatiently. “Your friends are meth heads and criminals. I’m glad you’re away from them. They were leading you down a bad path. At least here you’ve got a chance to get clean and make something of yourself.”

Connor squares up to me, and I shrink back. He hisses at me through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You just love to call the shots and put me down, but you’re nothing. You’ll always be nothing. You can prance around with your books and stupid glasses, but you’re not fooling anyone. We’ll be back in Holyoke in no time.”

“I didn’t say you were nothing.” My voice comes out as a whisper, but I try to keep the fear out of it and stay calm. I swallow. “I said your friends were a bad influence—and they were.”

I’m worried that Connor will lose his temper here in front of all these people. He’s never raised a hand to me, but when he raises his voice, he can shake foundations.

I reach into my purse and pull out the only two bills inside. “Here. Take this and go.”

Connor plucks the money from my hand and shoves it into his pocket, then he lifts a finger and points at me. “Now you think you can pay me to leave. You can’t wait to get rid of me. Ever since Mom died, you’ve been counting the days you can kick me to the curb.”

“You’ve been with me ever since she died. You know I’d do anything for you.”

He clenches his jaw and folds his arms across his chest.

I reach out and gently lay a hand on his forearm. I lower my voice. “Look, Connor, I know you miss Mom. I do, too. I know you miss Holyoke, but I wouldn’t have brought us here if I didn’t think it was for the best. I’m having to work my butt off to keep us here, but it’s all so we can have a better future. I promised Mom I’d take care of you, and I will. Always.”

Just then, I feel a presence behind me, and turn to see Henry standing there with a cautious expression and his arms folded across his chest. He lays a protective hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Melissa. I saw you from across campus. Looks like things are getting a bit heated here.” He takes a step forward to stand between Connor and me. He looks Connor up and down slowly. “Is there a problem here?”

Connor’s eyes widen with shock, and he jerks a thumb toward Henry. “This is who you’re hanging out with these days, Lissy? Fucking Downton Abby?”

Henry raises his eyebrows and gently, but firmly pulls me toward him with an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a lecture to get to. If you’ll excuse us.”

I look from Connor to Henry like a deer in headlights, then lift my hand to say goodbye to Connor, biting down on my lip as I turn away. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

I half expect Connor to follow us or to throw a punch at Henry, but, to my relief, he walks away. He usually does when he’s got my money in his pocket.

“Who’s that moron?” Connor asks as we walk away. “It looks like things were getting heated. Are you all right?”

I force a smile and nod. “I’m fine.”

“He looked like he was losing his temper. Who is he? A boyfriend?”

“Brother.”

“Your brother shouldn’t intimidate you like that. What’s his problem?”

I let out a long, slow breath and shake my head. “Where to begin? It’s family stuff. You know, drama.”

“I can relate to that. My family is all drama. Maybe we can grab lunch after this lecture, and you can tell me more about it.”

I hesitate. I look up at Henry. He’s so handsome, and despite my first impressions, he seems sincere.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You have to eat, right? You must be hungry, too.”

* * *

We leave campus and head to Harvard Square, which is more of a triangle; a plaza between Massachusetts Avenue, Brattle Street, and John F. Kennedy Street. The sidewalks are red-brick, and in the middle of the plaza is a circular tourist information booth.

The area is filled with restaurants, hotels, and stores. There are all sorts of events and entertainment on all day and all night. You can do anything in Harvard Square.

The plaza is filled with people who move around with purpose, intermingled with the odd group of tourists who stand around and take pictures, pointing in delight around them. I see a lot of students, characterized by their preppy dress sense and heavy satchels full of books, and the snippets of chatter I overhear about courses and extra-curriculars.

We go to Café Sushi—Henry’s choice. I’ve never tried sushi before, but I don’t want to sound unsophisticated by admitting that.

Inside the café, the kitchen is visible from the dining room. Japanese chefs in white coats and chef hats expertly slice fish in full view of the diners. I can smell salmon and seaweed.

Everybody seems to be having a good time. There’s a comfortable buzz of chatter inside; all but a few of the tables are full, but a waiter seats us at a table for two by the window.

We take our seats, and it feels oddly intimate. There are so many people inside the café, I feel overtly aware that we are alone among them. Henry picks up a menu from the center of the table, and I see his eyes light up as he reads through the options.

I look down at my own menu. What does any of this mean?

Henry picks up on my expression and lifts his head with a smile. “Ever had sushi before?”

“Not really.”

“I think you’ll like it.” He leans forward and points out different items on the menu. “Bento is kind of like a whole meal—you’ll find fish or meat, rice, and vegetables. Maki is a sushi roll wrapped in seaweed—my personal favorite, and very tasty. Sashimi is the meat or fish without any rice. Served thinly sliced. Those are your basic sushi types. They also have miso soups and salads here. There should be something you like.”

I cast my eyes over the menu again. There are so many flavors and combinations that it’s hard to know where to begin. “You say maki is good? I guess I’ll try that.”

“Excellent choice. I recommend the plain salmon maki and the negihama. Do you like yellowtail?”

Have I ever eaten yellowtail? “I’m sure I will.”

“You’re brave trying sushi for the first time with me. It’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m all for trying new things.”

The waiter comes by and takes our order. I take Henry’s recommendation for an order of sushi—salmon and negihama maki—then also take a risk on ordering some sakura tea. I balk at the prices but don’t let on that the thought of the bill makes me feel like my insides are shriveling up.

While our order is prepared, we’re left alone. I’m not sure what to say to Henry outside of the classroom.

“You were going to tell me about your family dramas,” I remind him. “I’d love to know what the Brits argue about.”

Henry grins mischievously and leans forward on his elbows like he’s telling me a secret. “My drama starts with the fact that my father is the Duke of Cambridge.”

I audibly gasp with surprise. “Are you kidding?”

“It’s not as big a deal as you think. The British nobility isn’t what it used to be, but the title still comes with certain expectations.”

“Like being able to ride a horse and joust?”

He laughs. “More like refusing to have a sense of humor and sucking the joy out of everything.” He accepts his matcha tea from the waiter, then turns his gaze back to me. “My father believes that the whole world and their dogs care deeply about our activities. I’m not so convinced. I, for one, think the nobility is a dying breed, but it’s still greatly important to my family that we are seen to uphold some higher level of etiquette and decorum. It’s a constant drain.”

“I’m guessing the drama comes from you not upholding those higher levels of etiquette and decorum?”

Henry offers a rebellious grin. “What can I say? I’m a free spirit.”

“I’d have thought Cambridge would have molded you into shape.”

“So did my father.” Henry chuckles. “Unfortunately, whenever I’m in a room of dull, boring people, I feel like it’s my duty to bring some life to the party. I’ve spent my life trying to make all these utterly desiccated people crack a smile. Call me a monster, but I think personality matters. I can’t stand superficial pomp and ceremony.”

“At least you must be career-minded, to be studying here at Harvard.”

“I’m not against having a great career and making my fortunes,” he says, “but it wasn’t my choice to come here. I suppose you could say I was banished for bad behavior. You see, there was a certain incident at my brother’s wedding. Punches were thrown, I ended up in a lake—it was the final straw. My father decided I needed to go somewhere far away until all my previous misdemeanors were forgotten. He’s hoping that I will return victorious, MBA in hand, to continue the legacy of the glorious family name.”

Henry’s contempt for his own status drips from every word he speaks.

I frown. “It doesn’t sound like you take it too seriously.”

“There’s nothing to take seriously. It’s all one giant circus act.”

“Still, you’re here, and I know for a fact that you’re not going to struggle with the course. You should be happy to have this chance.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me the same.”

“They’re right.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t like being pushed. My father may have led a good life, but that doesn’t mean I want to follow in his footsteps. Sometimes it feels like my whole life is mapped out for me, and even the slightest deviation is a crime. If they had their way, I’d be a mindless, gormless politics machine, just like the rest of them—working in business or law, and never cracking a joke again for as long as I live.”

“You don’t know how good you have it,” I tell him. “I’d give anything to see a future laid out for me. It sounds like you have all the support in the world.”

“There’s a fine line between support and control.”

“There’s a fine line between rebellion and being an ass.”

Henry raises his eyebrows in surprise but lifts his cup to me. “Touché.”

I smile. At least he can take as good as he gives.