I’m not so sure about that. When we were kids at a beach resort, she saw a freckle-faced boy picking on a girl near a water slide. He called the young girl fat and pointed at her one-piece. Rose intervened and used some choice language that would make eight-year-olds blush. When the pudgy boy didn’t respond how she hoped, she grabbed his swim-trunks and yanked them to his ankles.

After that, I was glad to have my sister on my side. I never wanted to cross her. And even as I think about that story, I realize she would kill me if she knew I was even sort of cheating.

But what’s worse, hearing her wrath after I use the tests or seeing her disappointment by failing out of Princeton? Disappointment can cripple me. So the former is definitely more appealing.

“Look, Lily,” Sebastian says. “College is all about beating the system, and the smartest people are the ones who figure that out. You want to be smart, don’t you?”

For the first time in a while, I have a fighting chance to do well. “Okay.”

“So you keep those and you memorize hard. I have copies of them, of course.” He rises and buttons his navy blazer. He wanders around the living room, bored. “And don’t mention this to Rose. I love her, but she’s moral to a fault. It’s kind of annoying actually.”

I ignore his last slight. I can’t believe I have to lie to Rose, but this seems like the right path. I can’t fail more classes. I’ll be in college until I’m forty.

I set the old exams next to a tall stack of tabloid magazines on the coffee table. I went out this morning and bought every gossip mag in the gas station. I checked for my picture, any article, any brief mention of my addiction. Rose even searched through the newspaper and online posts, but we both came up blank. Either the blackmailer is stalling or he’s waiting for another opportune moment to strike.

We don’t even know what he wants yet. He just keeps threatening.

“So…” I trail off as I watch Sebastian pick up a porcelain ballerina on the fireplace mantel, checking the underside for the designer or the authenticity. “If Rose believes you’re actually tutoring me, what do I tell her when you’re not here on Thursday?”

“I’ll be here, pretending. I can even bring more old exams for your other classes.” He sets the figurine down. “You copy them, though, and I’ll make your life a living hell.” His blasé voice makes the warning worse, somehow.

My phone pings, and I pick it up to check the message. The sound interests Sebastian enough to saunter over and plop by my side again.

Is Rose home? – Connor

Not yet. I text back.

Sebastian catches the conversation over my shoulder. He puts his cigarette to his lips, waiting for the response, but there is none. I’m about to slip my phone in my pocket, but Sebastian says, “Give that here.” And he steals the cell from my hands.

I should protest and put up a fight, but his I’ll make your life a living hell line is ringing in my head. He’s kind of scary.

Sebastian types quickly and sends, Why do you want to know? He’s too curious, nosy and bored.

I left her something at the gate. I wanted to know if she’s seen it yet. – Connor

Sebastian snorts. “This is just sad.”

I frown. “Why? He bought her something.” Presents are sweet, not sad.

“He’s trying to win her back,” Sebastian says. “They had a fight, and he wants to see if his gift has cheered her up.”

“Whatever they’re fighting about, she’ll forgive him over time,” I say with a nod.

Sebastian tosses my phone back. “No she won’t.”

“You can’t know that,” I say, defensive of a couple that I find destined and beautiful. They belong together the way books fit in a library. When I needed help, they both dedicated hours to researching sex addiction. Connor even escorted Rose to therapists, and they pretended to be Lo and me to find a perfect one. Who would do that, other than people who love me and people who love each other?

He stands. “She’s listened to my advice since we were children. She’ll realize that I’m right about Connor, and she’ll toss him aside like she has every short-term fling.”

I glare. “That’s her boyfriend.” Connor isn’t some fling. This is Rose’s first real relationship. Sebastian should want her to be happy.

“And I don’t like him,” he says simply. Sebastian is egocentric, self-centered and self-absorbed. I suppose Connor has taken his place in Rose’s life. Sebastian no longer gets to attend all the lavish parties hosted by the Calloways and peers. She brings Connor instead.

“Their relationship isn’t about what you want,” I say.

Sebastian snubs his cigarette on a magazine. “Rose is my best friend. I’m just saving her from the heartbreak.” He lights another. But his words sound incredibly fake. I don’t believe him one bit.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, crossing my arms. I want to warn Connor about Sebastian’s determination to break them up. Hell, I’m going to tell Rose what a horrible friend she has. And she would believe me. I’m her sister.

“You can’t say a word,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I can.”

He shakes his head, taps some ash right on the carpet. “No you can’t.” He nods to the stack of papers on my textbook. “Rose will not condone your new studying tactics. And Connor Cobalt would be even more displeased.” He sucks on the cigarette.

Oh…shit.

He’s trapped me so quickly. I slump back, winded as though he spun me through a washing machine.

I can’t tell my sister that her friend is planning on ruining her life. I should do the right thing and come clean, not be an awful human being.

But I need those tests.

And Rose can take care of herself. She’s the strongest girl I know.

But as Sebastian tosses that ballerina figurine in his hand, I wonder how she’s been blinded by someone like him for all these years. It can happen again.

My only hope lies in Connor.

He’ll have to foil Sebastian’s plans. He’ll have to prove to Rose that he’s the best man for her. I can’t warn him, but if I had to put money on a match between these two, I’d always bet on Connor Cobalt.

After spending lunch with my brother, I end up in Rose Calloway’s Escalade. She conveniently showed up at the café. They acted all surprised about it—like she just happened to spot us, driving past Rocco’s Deli on her way home.

But I figured out quickly that Ryke called her to cart me to our house while he went back to Philly for college. Like I have to be equipped with a twenty-four-seven babysitter, like I can’t be trusted in a cab or for a brief stroll down the sidewalk alone. I am the equivalent of a ninety-year-old lady needing a person as a crutch to cross the street.

It’s ridiculous. And even if I do want to talk to Rose about my plan to earn some cash—I would never volunteer to be alone with the girl. She hates me. And Lily may not see it like that, but Rose and I have an understanding that we’re never going to be best friends. We withstand each other for Lily, and that has to be enough. Growing up, Lily would choose me—a boy—over Rose, her sister, and that type of jealousy accumulates over the years into something deep and raw. No apology will matter.

And I get it. I would be resentful too. I’ve never wanted Rose to cut me slack, which must be why I poke the coals, stirring the flames and provoking her temper. I deserve every cold look, every biting comment. I deserve that fucking pain.

I get it.

“You look loads of fun today, Rose,” I say as she clenches the steering wheel, spine straight and eyes focused on the street. I should be a good person and ask what’s bothering her, but I can’t form the words. Caring—that’s Ryke’s thing.

“Look in the mirror,” she says icily.