FORTY-NINE

The first person we see as we walk off campus is Zeb. He’s still in uniform, tie askew, a little pink in his cheeks from the cold. There’s something genuinely light about him. A kind of happiness. Like his swoopy blond hair just swoops all his problems away. Never to return.

“Shalom,” he says, flirty.

“Why, shalom to you, too, my friend.”

Remy smiles wide, blindingly, at Zeb. She is back on track. Back in make-everyone-love-her mode.

“What brings you fine lasses off campus this lucky evening?”

“Honestly, we have no idea.”

“Aha! Well, come with me. I’m going into Philthy.”

“Where?”

“He means Philadelphia. Or Philly,” Remy explains. “But, you know, Philthy. Because it is.”

This sounds like the greatest idea ever. And before I know it Zeb’s getting an Uber and Remy looks at me and shrugs.

“You said you wanted adventure.”