I race up the steps to my old apartment and pound on the door. There's some sound inside—Nadeen's voice and a man's voice too. I smooth my skirt and blouse and fix my hair. No way I'm letting her know I care about this.

There are footsteps and the door opens. It's Alex, Nadeen's boyfriend. We've met once or twice before. He was nice enough then, but the guy did kick me out of my apartment without a second thought.

He shows no signs of embarrassment or regret. "Oh, you're the old roommate right?"

"Right."

Inside, Nadeen gets up off the couch. She grabs something off the table and makes her way to the door.

There it is, in between her selfish hands—my letter. It's a thick manila envelope with a fancy stamped return address. Something that size has to be good news.

I snatch it from her hands. "Nice to see you again." I turn and march down the stairs without waiting for a response. No way I'm letting these two assholes share in my moment.

My car is parked down the street. I hug the letter to my chest. No one else is getting at this. It's mine.

Drew is leaning against my car with a wide-eyed expression. He raises a brow. "And what is that?"

"It's nothing."

"You raced over here to get nothing?" He shakes his head. "You're such a bad liar."

I run my fingertips over the edges of the envelope. A breath escapes my lungs. "You'll see in a minute."

I find the edge of the letter. Okay, here goes nothing. I tear it open at the top. There's a thick stack of papers. Some kind of pamphlet. That must be a good sign.

I let the manila envelope slide to the ground. Drew stoops to pick it up. He stares at the return address for a minute then his eyes dart back to me.

Dear Ms. Kendrick,

We are pleased to offer you a spot in the UCLA Master of Education Program. Please find registration information and deadlines enclosed.

My jaw drops. Drops. I got in.

The ground is spinning. I reach for something to steady myself. Drew. My arm falls on his shoulders. I ignore my balance and squeeze him. He brings his hand to my lower back and holds me against him.

Only to keep me upright.

That's all it means.

I read the letter again.

Dear Ms. Kendrick,

We are pleased to offer you a spot in the UCLA Master of Education Program.

An easiness spreads through my body. My chest and throat and stomach are light and free and airy.

Drew's fingertips dig into my shirt. It pulls back my attention. I take a calm breath but everything is spinning.

He turns my wrist, the right, so he can read the letter. His face lights up with excitement.

"You're going to school for a teaching credential?" he asks.

My lips refuse to open. My mouth is sticky. I pull myself upright. It helps a little.

I shake my head. "Not necessarily."

"When did you apply for this?"

"October."

"You never told me."

"It was a lark." I shrug like it slipped my mind. That's not even close to the truth. I made sure no one knew about this. Not Meg. Not Drew. Certainly not my mother.

Drew shakes his head. "Bullshit." He drags his hand up my back and rests it between my shoulder blades.

I clear my throat. "It's not a big deal."

"You're holding on to me like you're about to jump off a cliff." He pulls my hand off his shoulder and squeezes it. "You're beaming."

"I am not."

"Yeah-huh."

I meet his gaze. "What kind of argument is that?"

"I don't need to argue something this obvious." He brushes a stray hair behind my ear. His eyes bore into mine. "Honestly, Kara. I haven't seen you this happy since... since ever."

I shake my head. "It's really not a big deal. It was a lark. There's no way I can actually become a teacher. My mom has a job lined up for me at her company after I graduate."

"Is that what you want?"

"She's expecting me to take it."

Drew slides his hand to my hips. He stares at me with a penetrating gaze. "Fuck her."

"Drew!"

"Seriously. Unless you want to work at her company."

"I might. Once I get the hang of finance." My voice wavers. It's so soft I can barely hear it. There's no way Drew is buying this. I'm not even buying it. "It's possible."

His fingertips graze my chin. "Look me in the eyes."

I do.

"No bullshit." He holds my gaze. "Do you want to work in finance or do you want to be a teacher?"

"I don't know."

"I said no bullshit. I'll have to punish you if you bullshit me again."

My mind flashes with a truly, truly beautiful image. Drew, naked, sinking his teeth into my neck until I beg for mercy.

I shake my head in an attempt to get my concentration back, but it's not working. Drew naked. Drew naked. Drew naked.

"Kendrick, get your mind out of the gutter and look at me."

My cheeks flush. "You started it."

He brings his hand to my chin and adjusts me so I'm staring into his eyes. "Truth or dare."

My nostrils flare. Fine. I'll entertain this. "Dare."

"I dare you to call your mom and tell her what she can do with her job."

I step back, breaking from his touch. His hands go back to his sides. Suddenly, I'm cold. It's seventy degrees and sunny and I'm cold.

"That's not the spirit of the game," I say.

Drew drops into his serious voice. "Do you want to move back to San Francisco to work at your mom's company?"

"It's a great opportunity."

"Yes or no."

"You can't say 'yes or no' in that voice, like that gives you some right to my feelings. I have to take that job. She needs me. She doesn't have anyone else and work is the only place she isn't miserable."

"So what?"

"She's my mom."

His voice is soft. "Kara."

"I know my name." I take another step back, my gaze on the sidewalk. There's a jagged crack going straight through the middle of it. "It will make her happy and I'll make twice as much money."

"Since when do you care about money?"

I shrug. "Everyone needs money."

Drew steps toward me. He brings his hand to my cheek with a delicate touch. "Will it make you happy?"

I look into his eyes for a second. It's too much. I have to look away.

"You applied to grad school for a reason," he says.

"It was no big deal."

"Bullshit." He drops his hand to his sides.

Everything is spinning again. It's so much harder to stay upright without him touching me. I lean against the car to keep my balance.

"You take any tests?" He asks.

"The CBEST is easy."

"You write an essay?"

"Three."

"Did you have an interview?"

"Yes."

"Did you volunteer at a school to get a feel for teaching?"

"That was for my tutoring job."

He grabs my forearm, his voice stern. "Look me in the eyes, Kara."

I do. His eyes are this gorgeous clear brown. Bright and dark all at once. This is my best friend. His gaze shouldn't feel so intense. It shouldn't feel like he's picking me apart. But it does.

"Truth or dare," he says.

"We were over this."

"And you bullshitted me." He leans closer. "I'm giving you another chance."

"Then give me a drink because I'm not answering."

He rubs my forearm with his thumb. "Do you want to work at your mom's company?"

That heaviness floods my body. It's all wrong. My shoulders tense. A crick develops in my neck.

"Do you want to work at her company?"

"No." I let out a deep exhale. "I don't."

And, suddenly, all that heaviness and tension is gone. I don't want to work with my mom. I don't want to do business. I've never admitted it before, not out loud, not even to myself.

I want to go to grad school.

I want to teach English.

My breath is steady. No tension in my chest. Nothing too heavy or too light. I'm okay. I admitted I don't want to work with my mom and it didn't destroy me.

I'm okay.

But that doesn't make it possible.

I bring my gaze back to Drew. His expression is softer. Sweet even. He plays with my ponytail.

"I'm proud of you." he says.

"I can't do this," I say. "She pays for my school. My rent. She puts money in my account every month. It's all contingent on me following her plan."

"You know what I think?" he asks.

"You think that you know better than I do."

He shakes his head. "You deny yourself the things you want."

"When have I ever done that?"

He cocks a brow. It's like he's daring me to think about it. I'm not stupid. I see this is still about sex, but Drew doesn't have a clue what he's talking about.

That's not how it is.

"I did the same thing," he says. "Went to Stanford to please my parents, even though the only thing I ever wanted was my hands on a guitar. Didn't do any good. When I dropped out to focus on the band, they cut contact. My dad got over it eventually. Mom didn't."

"You want to talk about it?'

"No. Fuck them if they won't support what I want." He runs his fingertips along my neck. "Fuck anyone who denies you what you want."

I lean back against the car. My shirt must be filthy by now, but it doesn't concern me.

Drew's fingertips brush against my left wrist. Just above my silver watch. I pull my hand to my chest and hold it there. He looks at me funny, but he doesn't call me on it.

"This is an amazing accomplishment," he says. "Whatever you decide to do."

"Thank you."

"We're going to celebrate."

I turn to face him. "How?"

He smiles. "I'm making you dinner."

"You cook?"

He shakes his head, tsk tsk. "I'm an excellent cook."

"Right."

"You're going to eat those words, Kendrick." He slides his hand into the pocket of my denim skirt and pulls out my keys. "Of course you'll be so full from my delicious cooking that you'll have no room for the words."

I nod, uh-huh, but truth be told, I'm still stuck on the feeling of Drew's hand in my pocket.