My phone buzzed while I was standing pantsless in Xavier Bandini's kitchen, eating twenty-dollar strawberries out of a crystal bowl that probably cost more than my first laptop.If there was a more accurate representation of my life over the past three years, I hadn't found it yet.I was wearing one of Xavier's white shirts, which fell to mid-thigh, my hair still damp from the shower, while Boston glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of his sky-high penthouse.It had been three days since MIT graduation, and I hadn't done a single productive thing except sleep until noon, drink Xavier's wine, and tell people I was considering several job offers when, in reality, I was considering whether I could live forever on croissants and bad decisions.My phone lit up.June Whitmore.I stared at the name for a few seconds.June was Xavier's first ex-girlfriend. The kind of ex from back when Xavier was nineteen, had too much money, too little fear, and, according to campus rumors, once br
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