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I grab my messenger bag filled with stuff he left at my place, which isn’t a lot since I usually meet him here—a Columbia shirt, a sports watch, and a toothbrush—and walk back into the living room, finding him staring expectantly at me.

He gives me the familiar wry grin and tosses me a flash drive. “Found some old pics from Homecoming. Thought you might want copies. It was fun, right? I miss Broadbent.”

“Right. Good ol’ days. Thanks for this.” I strain a smile and stuff the drive into my bag, a small pinch of guilt slicing through me.

“So? The investment? I’ve burned through the money you loaned me for setup costs. But the fund is an opportunity.”

He waves a sheet of paper with graphs and numbers in front of me. “Bank of Columbia would be an excellent fit. I saved a PDF of this on the drive I just gave you—financial stuff for Charles if he wants them. Maybe we can pitch it to him together?”

Dayton takes out his phone, his legs bouncing. He’s either excited or nervous, and these days, I can’t really tell, but I stop him.

“I don’t think this is working.”

He freezes, and for a moment, the hardened glint I saw in his eyes awhile back from the guy who was afraid of cops and whispering on the phone is back.

But that expression wipes off his face almost immediately.

“What do you mean, babe? The fund? Come on, we talked about this. We need this fund to work.”

No, you need this fund. I don’t know the first thing about numbers.

He rambles, “You and I were going to be the Vaughn-Holden all-stars at Columbia. We’d get this fund off the road, grow our own fortune and make a name for ourselves. You’d get to do whatever you want with the profit—go to spas, travel around the world, get some nice handbags.”

Spas and handbags.My hand fists the strap of my messenger bag, but he doesn’t notice and continues, “But don’t worry,” he stares at me with that damn pity in his eyes, “I’ll carry the weight. We’re good together.”

“T-That’s not what I meant, Dayton. I just don’t think you and I are going to work out. I don’t—”

He clasps my shoulders and squeezes softly. “Baby, I know I’ve been too busy. I see you writing to your pen pal all the time and I think you’re talking to her because I don’t have time for you, right?”

I swallow. I don’t correct him that Keeper is a guy, not a girl.

“I’m sorry. But like I said, things are looking up with the fund and I just finished midterms. I have a lot more time now. Do you want to do something fun? I’ll take you to that new bookstore you wanted to check out?”

His words are a barrage of bullets, slamming into me at breakneck speed, and my throat closes up.

Dayton clasps my cheek and stares at me reverently. “We don’t have to call Charles now. We can talk about this later, okay?”

The vein is still pulsing in his temple.

I stare mutedly at him, my muscles coiled as the air thickens with tension.

“Let’s watch a movie?Gone with the Wind.You liked that old shit, right? Your favorite?”No. It isn’t my favorite, and you should know that.

Dayton pats my cheek and walks away, like I didn’t just break up with him.

It’s wrong. All wrong.

“Dayton, I’m serious. We’re done. Things have changed, and I know what I want in a relationship and it’s not this. I don’t go to bed at night thinking about you or want to text you when I wake up in the morning. I’m sorry!”

“Babe, don’t do this. This is about the investment, right? I won’t borrow money from you again.”

Not wanting to drag this out for longer, I stride to the door. But I pause at the threshold, and turn around. His face is flushed but his eyes are downcast like he’s pained. He doesn’t follow me.

“Good luck with everything, Dayton.”

I close the door and rush out onto the busy streets, barely noticing the crowds of commuters and tourists rushing by.

My heart ricochets against my rib cage and I feel dizzy.