Chapter Eleven #2
“I know. But you have to understand, William, keeping him close is best. I’ve discussed it with the others, and I won’t—” He blows out a frustrated breath as whoever is on the other end of the line—William?
—interrupts him. A loud bang sounds, and I jump, clamping my lips shut on the gasp that was about to spill.
He must’ve slapped his hand on the edge of his desk or against the wall. He definitely hit something. Hard.
“Enough, I said! You listen to me. His sister is dead. His father is in jail. I won’t have a repeat of what happened to Nigel, not during my tenure here.
That family has been at Wickham since the damn founding, and I’m not going to throw some poor kid out on his ass when he needs us the most. That’s my final word on the matter.
” Harrington ends the call, and I can hear him pouring something in a glass before the gentle whoosh of a body settling heavily onto a chair.
I dart into the bathroom and close the door, then turn on the tap and run my shaking hands beneath the cold trickle of water while Harrington’s words run through my head.
He’s referring to Connor. That’s a given. Who’s William? And Nigel? What happened to poor Nigel, and how long ago?
Harrington definitely knows more than I originally thought. About Connor, but maybe about Isla, too. Maybe he’s in on it.
But what is it, exactly?
I’m more determined than ever to find out.
…
Ispent the night at the Harringtons’, which was the right choice. I can always work on that paper all day Sunday. Sophia even volunteered to help me with it, though I told her I had to do something on my own.
And I meant it.
We ate a delicious meal and stayed up way too late talking while lying in the cozy haven of her pink bedroom. It was hard for me to stay awake, thanks to Sophia’s extra comfortable bed. Not to mention it’s huge. A far cry from the narrow, hard-as-a-board bed in my dorm room.
My phone buzzing on the nightstand where I left it (plugged in, thanks to an extra charger Mrs. Harrington offered me before bed) is what wakes me up, and I reach for it, pulling the covers over my head so I can check my notifications in peace and not disturb Sophia.
My heart squeezes when I see it’s a text from Connor.
Connor:I was insufferable last night, wasn’t I?
Me:You weren’t so bad.
Connor:Lies. I was a drunken fool. But you should know I’m paying the price this morning.
Me:Why are you up so early, Drunky McDrunkface?
Connor:It’s past ten. And that’s MISTER Drunky McDrunkface to you.
Connor:I want to make up for my boorish behavior by inviting you to a horrible party tonight.
Me:Why would I want to go to a party if it’s going to be horrible?
Me:And why do you want to make up for your boorish behavior? Such a good word, by the way. Boorish.
Connor:First, because it’s the only party happening, everyone will be there, and a true party girl probably won’t discriminate.
Connor:And second, because in vino veritas. If you’re the one I drunk-texted, it must mean I don’t totally hate spending time with you.
Connor:As long as you’re not singing.
Me:Please, Mr. McDrunkface, I can’t take this many compliments at once.
Connor:I’m just stating facts.
Isn’t he cheerful today.
Me:Where is this party anyway?
Connor:At the Pembroke residence, not too far from campus. Freddie always throws a good party, and this one is an annual gathering for the alumni to talk about fundraisers and the like.
Fundraisers? That sounds boring.
Connor:Really it’s just an excuse to eat apps instead of real dinner and drink and gossip. Watch couples fight and break up.
Connor:Watch unexpected couples hookup.
I raise my brows at the last line. Is he implying he might want to hook up with me?
I’d consider it. Or Belinda would.
Me:So it’s THAT kind of party.
Connor:No, no, no. That’s just what always happens when the liquor flows and the feelings get a little too real.
He’s not wrong. And when the liquor flows, it tends to loosen lips, too. I’d love to hear what some of the other Wickham students have to say about … things.
“Good morning!” Sophia sing-songs.
A scream leaves me, and I drop my phone directly on my face. I flip the comforter off my head and offer her a sheepish smile as I scooch into a sitting position. “Uh, good morning.”
“Did I scare you?” She laughs when I nod. “Sorry. I’m abnormally cheerful in the morning. Even my mother complains about it.”
I can’t imagine that. Mrs. Harrington is the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I rub the bridge of my nose where I just took an iPhone to the face.
“How did you sleep?” Sophia chirps.
I push my hair away from my eyes. “Pretty great, actually. Your bed is so soft.”
“Better than the mattress in the dorm rooms, right?” Sophia rests her hand on her mouth to cover the yawn. “I don’t know why I think I should return to my room there.”
“I don’t know, either.”
She falls back against the pile of pillows beneath her head, pulling her own phone off the nightstand. She must check her notifications, because the next words out of her mouth are, “There’s a party tonight. I almost forgot.”
I remain quiet, because that wasn’t exactly an invitation. For all that Sophia is happy to hang with me at her house, she might not want me shadowing her at Freddie’s party. She doesn’t know Connor already invited me.
“You should stay here, and we can get ready together and then go. It’s at Freddie’s,” Sophia explains. “You want to go, right? It’ll be a great way to get to know everyone.”
The icy cynicism around my heart melts a little.
“Yeah, um … Connor just asked me to go with him.” I wince, bracing myself for a reaction.
“Seriously?” She sits up straight, her eyes wide. “He asked you to go with him?”
“He called it a horrible party.” I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but he did ask first. And she’s been nothing but a good friend to me since the moment I met her. “Will it be awful?”
“Dreadful. But also … fun.” She slowly shakes her head. “I’m just surprised he asked you.”
Irritation and insecurity battle for dominance. I try to hide both when I ask, “Why?”
Sophia’s voice and smile are gentle. “Because Connor doesn’t ask any girl anywhere. Even before everything that happened, he kept mostly to himself.”
Her revelation is way too reassuring.
“Don’t I remember you saying something about how broken boys aren’t your thing?” Her words aren’t accusatory. In fact, she taps an index finger against her chin in exaggerated thoughtfulness. It feels more like a sweet reminder because she’s worried about me, and I appreciate that.
More than she’ll ever realize.
I shrug helplessly. I can’t say anything to defend my choices. I mean, look at him. I had no idea I was such a sucker for a handsome face.
“But … the dimples?” I say, shrugging like I’m helpless in the face of their hot-guy power.
Sophia snorts a laugh but nods like she totally gets it.
“Well, this should be interesting. Come on, then. Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast. I’m sure my mum has made a feast for us.
” Sophia hops out of bed, and I do the same, surprised when she links her arm through mine and leads me out of the bedroom.
I could get used to this—having a best friend and hanging out at her house all weekend. I just hope when everything comes out, Sophia doesn’t hate me for all my lies.
That would break my heart.