“Tell me why you want this job busting your ass for people who couldn’t care less if you were born unless you forget the refill on their Pellegrino.” Jacob’s rapid-fire question has me leaning across the kitchen table in his and Timothy’s apartment. The first of my two final exams isn’t until tomorrow, but already, I feel as if I’m being grilled. “Because I need money to pay next semester’s tuition and living expenses and my rock star dad cut me off for failing to tell him I was at performing arts school.” He cocks his head. “Cute. One more time.” I square my shoulders. “Because I’m a hard worker,...