We sat on a bench near the edge of campus after the tour ended.
The sun was warm on my skin.
Students passed by in little groups, laughing, carrying iced coffees and backpacks and futures that somehow looked so effortless from the outside.
Landon leaned back beside me, one arm stretched across the back of the bench behind my shoulders.
Not touching.
Just there.
Present.
Like he was trying very hard not to influence me while also obviously existing as the reason half of this was happening.
I looked over at him.
“You planned this.”
He turned his head slowly. “Planned what?”
“This.”
He gave me his best fake innocence.
Which, to be clear, was terrible.
“You showing up. Walking around all emotionally supportive. Pretending you’re not heavily invested in whether I decide to stay in
