Page 96 of Julian

Without looking up, he says, “Because chaos is the enemy of academic excellence.”

I blink at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

That finally earns a grin.

The binders are color-coded. Color-coded. Red, green, blue, yellow. There are sharpened pencils lined up beside them and stacks of fresh spiral-bound notebooks from the stationery store down the block.

And despite all the technology available to him—all the apps and tablets and laptops—Dylan still insists on studying with actual pencil and paper.

“I remember things better when I write them down,” he says with a shrug when I point it out.

I love that about him. Beneath all the sarcasm and TikTok and teenage chaos, there’s still a quality that’s wonderfully old-fashioned about the way his brain works.

It’s incredible watching him grow up. He’s becoming a man right in front of me.

And somehow, despite all the years I spent terrified I was failing him, he’s turning into a really good one.

The weekend before school starts again, I’m stretched on the couch with Beau half asleep across my legs while Dylan argues passionately with sports analysts on television from the kitchen when my phone buzzes.

I glance down, expecting to see Abby’s name. Instead, it’s a text from Julian. Bring Dylan to the game tonight. Would enjoy spending some time with him. Meet me in the owner’s suite at 6:30.

This doesn’t make a lot of sense. Julian’s hosting a delegation of VIP execs from one of his hedge fund partners and is going straight from meetings to the game, so I’m not scheduled to drive him or attend. Moreover, Julian specifically wants to spend time with my brother.

“What’s that face?” Dylan asks from the kitchen. His eyes narrow. “That’s your Julian face.”

“I don’t have a Julian face.”

“You absolutely have a Julian face.” He points a spatula at me accusingly. “You smile different when you’re texting him.”

“I hate how observant you’ve become.”

“It’s one of my best… and worst qualities.”

“Julian wants us to come to the game,” I say, glancing over at Dylan.

“Well, hurry up and text him we’ll be there,” he says. No words to describe the joy I’m experiencing right now not only that Julian’s including my brother, but that I’ll get to see him tonight when I’d not planned on it.

I try to suppress my smile as I type back quickly, We’ll be there.

Before I can lock my phone again, another text appears. And Harper— I’m already smiling. Can’t wait to see you.

Heat rushes instantly into my cheeks.

Dylan catches it immediately.

“Oh my God,” he says in horror. “Please tell me you’re not sexting while I’m making grilled cheese.”

“I’m not sexting!”

“You’re blushing at your phone.”

I throw a couch pillow at him while he laughs loudly enough to startle Beau awake.

The Vipers are playing the Boston Eagles tonight, which means the arena is absolute mayhem by the time Dylan and I arrive.

The sidewalks surrounding the arena pulse with energy, fans bundled in green and black jerseys weaving through traffic while vendors shout over one another and taxis lean impatiently on their horns for no reason other than existing in Manhattan.

Beside me, Dylan vibrates with excitement as we push through the crowd toward the entrance.