She’s glaring at the luxury watch store, and I turn my head to see a flash of very familiar blond hair.

I’m glad I had the wherewithal to change before we left the house because I’d be totally mortified to be seen in public wearing his clothing.

Dylan appears to be wandering around somewhat aimlessly, which I know for a fact he doesn’t make a habit of doing. Deliberate might as well be his middle name.

He stops to look at one of the displays, keeping one hand in the pocket of his dark jeans while the other rakes across the top of his head. He might as well be one of the people on the posters modeling the watches, not considering buying them.

Audrey is still rambling on about the cost of a diamond watch versus rent when I pull out my phone to get Dylan’s attention.

What time is it? I text.

I watch as he pulls it out, squints in confusion at my message, and then smirks.

He turns in almost a complete circle when he finally sees Audrey and me, and he doesn’t hesitate to walk over even though I’m not alone.

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Audrey asks, alternating between chewing and sucking at her straw for what I hope is the final time.

“No,” I admit, biting a smile as Dylan approaches.

She follows the line of my gaze. “Dylan Archer?”

“Audrey Reed,” he says simply.

It’s a formal greeting, and it makes me a little nervous. “You two know each other?” I ask.

He looks at my sister, waiting for her to elaborate, but she actually blushes.

“Audrey dated Brandon’s older brother last summer,” he fills me in. “They spent a lot of time in his bedroom, which is, unfortunately for us, right next to Brandon’s.”

“What?” I ask her, only slightly disturbed by this information. “You never told me that.”

“I’m not James,” she brushes me off. “I don’t tell you every little thing.”

“But I thought you were hung up on that guy from your Ethnic Studies class last summer?”

She shrugs. “Things change,” she says, looking at me pointedly. “Apparently.”

I decide that I hate my sister and her insinuations, so I pretend she doesn’t exist. It’s easy enough, considering she’s officially given up on her milkshake and seems perfectly content to watch whatever conversation is about to unfold between Dylan and me.

We haven’t talked at all since I told him I got into Columbia, but I’ve thought about him enough. It’s hard not to when you stay inside for days, watching actors pretend to fall for each other on the screen. Eventually, you liken yourself to the characters and their situations, and then you’re totally screwed.

“Are you here to buy a watch for the same cost of feeding a third world country for a year?” I ask him.

He scoffs. “A year?”

“Oh, right, I’m sure you want the one with diamonds around the face,” I say, pointing to the most gaudy, and probably most expensive, one on display.

He wrinkles his nose. “Hard pass, but I’ll keep it in mind for your birthday gift,” he says lightly. “I’m actually here shopping for my mother’s.”

Audrey guffaws, and we both look at her.

“That’s the line every sleazy guy uses in the movies when he’s actually buying lingerie for his mistress or whatever,” Audrey explains.

Dylan clears his throat. “Well, I won’t be buying lingerie for my mother, but I am going to go check out a few items they held for me at Tiffany’s—”

“In the backroom?”

“Yes?”

“Stop,” Audrey says. “That’s true? There’s actually a secret room of fabulous jewels somewhere in that store?”

Dylan smirks. “I wouldn’t give it that nice of a description, but yes, they have some items set aside for me to come check out.”

Audrey’s practically itching for an invitation, and I’m surprised that Dylan actually gives her one. “I’m actually pretty bad at picking out jewelry. If it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could help me out?”

“Yes!” Audrey squeals, jumping up immediately.

Of course, leave it to Dylan to invite her along in the most convoluted way.

They carry on conversation between the two of them while I pick up the trash and toss it in the bin.

“Her birthday is tomorrow,” Dylan answers a question I didn’t hear Audrey ask.

They’re both significantly taller than me, so I have to walk fast to keep up.

“A last-minute gift giver,” Audrey says. “I like that. One time I did all of my shopping on Christmas Eve. My parents were actually super pissed because I used it as my excuse to skip out on going to church.”

“Audrey, you do it every year,” I deadpan.

She flips her hair over her shoulder, and I can’t help but laugh.

We’re so different in personality and appearance. Audrey wears a crop top, high-waist pants, and a giant, pink fuzzy zip-up, where I’m in simple jeans and a navy blue sweater. She’s all pizzazz, and I’m plain as can be.

Even with Audrey’s outrageous looks, Dylan gets all the attention when we step into the store.

We’re ushered past the counters and led to a backroom the size of our living room. The carpet is plush and the chairs just look expensive, but they’re nothing compared to the diamonds that one of the employees brings out from the back.

He wears white gloves and rearranges the pieces constantly while he talks about the carats and settings and everything else. The various earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets shimmer in the light.

“What do you think?” Dylan asks.

“The ruby earrings are pretty,” Audrey comments.

I agree, but they just don’t seem right for Mrs. Archer. I’ve barely spent time with her, but I don’t think she’d ever wear something that would draw that much attention to herself in such a blatant way.

“But so is that ring.”

Dylan nods at her, but he waits for me to voice my own thoughts.

He wants my opinion, apparently.

Me. The girl whose exterior he mocks regularly is required to give an opinion on jewelry that I would never be able to afford, let alone wear if I could. I barely remember to put on the lotus earrings sometimes.

I lean forward, taking another look at the display in front of us.

“The bracelet,” I say with easy confidence.

The one I gesture to is no less exquisite than anything else offered, but it’s understated in a perfect way. The round diamonds wrap around the entirety of the piece, but the pear-shaped ones are arranged in clusters that look like small flowers. I could visualize Mrs. Archer wearing it with a cocktail dress at her next art gallery function.

“It’s perfectly elegant for her, and diamonds are her birthstone,” I explain.

“I’ll take it,” Dylan says.

I can’t even imagine how many zeros are about to be swiped on Dylan’s credit card.

I find humor in the fact that he’s using his parents’ money to buy them gifts, but I guess that’s what every parent has to deal with until a child has branched out on their own. My meager savings from babysitting last summer merely covered the cost of cupcake mix for my mom and dad.