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I shove him down. “I can do it.”

The employee comes over with a frown, holding a singular plant pot. “Did you book your second pot under a different name? There’s only one registered under Fernando.”

Dad instantly reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “We’ll just buy another.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” she says, “but all the other pots have been purchased.”

Thanks to Lexie and me, who bought the rest of the stock under different names—using all thirteen members of Seventeen. Lexie has a minimum spend on her credit card that doesn’t arouse any suspicion from her parents, and I had to dig into my barely there savings to cover the rest.

An important investment I had no problem making, though.

Before my dad offers up his spot, I pin him in place. “You know what, no worries. Lexie and I were going to try renting a paddleboat.”

My dad frowns. “But you hate water.”

“Correction, I hate being bad at things—and I’m bad at swimming. I respect the water and all she does for the planet.” I push away from him, backing up toward the boardwalk. “I’ll go find her. Don’t go looking for me. Okay, bye!”

Instead of searching for Lexie, who can spend half an hour straight staring at a single item and not be bored, I head toward the walkway at the end of all the shops.

As I move, different scents waft in and out of my nose. The steam of hot dogs from a stand surrounds me, then a hit of fried dough takes its place. Next, a dizzying aroma of scented candles and soaps from a shop I know will keep Lexie occupied for an hour slides into the mixture. There’s the savory, warm heat of chicken from a stall selling barbeque wings, and I nearly pause at a seller with a case filled with empanadas, but remember the pain of typing in my credit card to buy all the pots and force my feet to keep moving.

The closer I get to the marsh, free from vendors and no longer attached to the waterfront businesses, the less chatter and movement hit my eardrums. Only a few people, curious families and occasional runners making their way up the mile-long stretch, join me here.

I pause at a stopping point where the path opens up to a square patch of wood. I sit on a bench built against the fence surrounding the area, blocking accidental falls toward the darkened water below.

I unload my books and search my phone for the lectures I found online. I prop them against my bag then find my practice questions so I can try to solve them step-by-step with the virtual instructor.

Even when a headache presses against the sides of my head, I keep trying to solve the problems. I’m not sure if it’s starting because of lack of sleep or the fact that I missed breakfast this morning, or simply because the sight of numbers just makes me nauseous, but I need to push through.

Two days till my exam and I can’t let my GPA suffer any more.

My fingers start to cramp after my twelfth erasing of the formula I just can’t figure out. I tighten my grip and throw my pencil down.

“Are you kidding me?” someone says, and I jump at the voice, following the sound to find Theo standing a couple of yards away from me.

He stomps over, crossing his arms against his chest once he reaches me. “You’re at a festival and you’re studying? Are you out of your mind?”

I straighten. “What are you doing here?”

“This should have been the first place I checked,” he says, more to himself than to me. “No people, a place to sit, and a lack of fun within a mile radius.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I rub my arms, suddenly aware of every nerve in my body.

Theo shrugs off his jacket, leans over, and wraps it around my shoulders. My face presses against his chest as he does, and I recognize this signature citrusy scent of his. “How many times do I need to do this for you?”

He’s left in a white cashmere formfitting sweater, and with his light-wash jeans, he looks like a model plastered on a mall store window.

“What is this?” I stand. “Did you find me just to criticize me?”

“Look at this view.” He grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face the greenery of the marsh, covering large patches of the water up until the distant homes miles away, specs from where we stand. “At night”—he points toward the bridge, which is small from here but takes five minutes to drive across—“it’s filled with bright lights. Have you ever seen the world outside your books?”

I rub my temple. “Theo, I’m not in the mood for whatever this is right now.”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. He looks frustrated with me. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting up your dad?”

“He has been set up,” I say, the nerves I’ve been trying to ignore tingling at the thought. It has to be going well. Of course it is. Simple but foolproof plan. “Which is why I’m taking this opportunity to study.”

“To torture yourself, more like.”