“Let’s try this again in broad daylight.” He clears his throat. “Stay.” I tear open a pack of chips and throw one into my mouth, chewing to buy some time. “As I said, I’m starting college in two weeks.” “Feck college.” “What about my mom?” “Don’t feck her. That’s the kind of kinky I’m not quite into. But you hate her, Rory. Besides, we’ll send her hairspray every month. And plane tickets every Christmas. Easter, too, if you insist.” He reaches for his Guinness—yes, in the morning—taking a generous sip. “Stay, Rory. It’s kismet. Tell me you didn’t notice the rain stopped when we kissed
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