Page 36 of Find My Way Down to You

“What is it?” I ask him, serious.

He stretches out his legs. He’s getting so tall now, nearly my height. That’s not the only thing I notice. His shoulders are widening. Soft hairs are growing in thicker along his sun-kissed calves.

Occasionally, I have to stop myself from staring. Fromwantingto see how high the hair goes. We haven’t taken things that far yet.

His mouth curves up. “I’ve decided where I want to go to college.”

My eyes widen. “Already?”

We’re only sophomores. But I shouldn’t be surprised. This is London. He loves to plan. Constantly thinking ahead.

College is still two years away. I haven’t considered where I’d go.IfI’d go. My parents bring it up casually, but they know me. I like to live things day to day.

I’ve tried to be more like London. But I’m not on his level. Not even close.

He nods, still beaming.

“Where?” I ask through the lump in my throat.

I’m scared of his answer. He’s brilliant. And he works hard. Any university would beg to have him. He could goanywhere.

London leans back, gesturing to his hoodie. I study it. I guess I wasn’t really paying attention before. When he first arrived. I was too distracted by the sunlight against his face to care about what he’s wearing.

Now I see it. The familiar navy color. Blocky yellow letters stamped across his chest.

UCSB.

My heart clenches.“Here?”The word struggles to make it past my tongue. “You’re gonna stay here? In Santa Barbara?”

His smile splits his face. “They have a great engineering program. And aquatic biology. Mathematics too.”

That’s one thing London hasn’t decided in advance—his major. I’m sure it’s coming soon.

“That sounds great,” I tell him, muting the shock still buzzing through me.

He tips his head back. Those green eyes hold me still. “You need to think about where you want to go too.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “There’s still time.”

London frowns. “True, but not much. There’s the SATs. Early admissions. Picking the right classes for junior and senior year. Application fees and financial aid—”

The more things he lists, the farther my shoulders fall. He’s thought about all these things. All I’ve thought about is my next song. Remembering to shower. The way London’s hand feels in mine and how his mouth looks right after I kiss him.

“You can’t just do what you always do,” London warns gently.

He means wait until the last second. Or when it feels right to me.

Swallowing, I nod. “What should I do?”

It’s a question I ask him a lot lately. London always has a solution.

His smile returns, bright and dreamy. “I have an idea.”

He tugs something out of his bag. Carefully, he tosses it to me. I catch it, almost knocking over my notebook.

The cotton is soft between my fingers. It’s a similar shade of navy. My pulse jumps as a gasp frees itself from my mouth when I unfold the sweatshirt.

Yellow letters spell outUCSB.