My phone buzzed.
Rowan.
Rowan:
It feels weird.
I stared at that.
Then:
Mason:
Yeah.
Mason:
It does.
No jokes this time.
No sarcasm.
Just agreement.
ROWAN
Serena insisted we “celebrate” by ordering food we couldn’t afford.
“I got accepted into New York,” I said.
“And?” she replied, already scrolling menus.
“And I have responsibilities.”
“And I have hunger.”
She won.
Obviously.
While she argued with delivery apps, my phone buzzed again.
Mason.
Mason:
We leave in six weeks.
I stared at it.
Six weeks sounded long.
Until I said it twice.
Then it didn’t.
Rowan:
