“I don’t want to let you go.” He chuckles as we fall into our routine. “You have to, though.” “On one condition.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, going for humor to mask my sadness. “What condition is that?” “That you promise me you’ll come back next year. That you promise me you won’t forget me.” My voice breaks on those last words. All I can think about is the rich, sophisticated, beautiful girls at his prep school back home. Ones who have moms and aren’t called sluts. Ones who would gladly enjoy Ledger’s kisses and attention just as much as I do. How can I compete with that? How will phone calls
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