When I started sleeping with Theo Lane, I had one rule: neither of us was allowed to mistake a good time for a promise. I was preparing for the graduate admissions exam that could get me into the marine biology program at Halewick University, and he was handsome, charming, and gloriously uninterested in making my life more complicated. We agreed to keep things casual, which suited me perfectly until the night I got the acceptance email and realized I wanted to end what we had. Theo didn't argue, didn't bargain, and didn't pretend our arrangement meant more than it did. But when I tried to call us friends, I had to face the possibility that I'd been using the word to make leaving feel easier. Was I ending a fling, or walking away from the only person who had ever made my future feel less lonely?