Chapter 12 Alex
The quad was busy for a Wednesday afternoon—students sprawled on the manicured lawn, others walking between classes with that purposeful Kingswell stride.
“Alex! Wait up!”
I turned. Chelsea from my Pre-Law seminar was jogging toward me.
“Hey,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Did you finish the brief for Morrison?” She fell into step beside me, breathless. “I’ve been working on it all week and I’m still not sure I have the analysis right.”
My stomach dropped.
The brief for the perjury case analysis was due tomorrow at 9 AM.
I’d completely forgotten.
“Yeah, it’s been tough. Still working through it,” I said.
“Oh thank god.” She laughed, relieved. “I was worried I was the only one struggling with it. The precedent cases are so dense.”
“They are,” I agreed, having no idea what she was talking about.
“Are you heading to the library?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to study together later? We could compare notes—”
“I’d love to, but I have a meeting with my advisor in an hour.” The lie came too easily. “Another time?”
“Sure. Good luck!”
She split off and I kept walking, my jaw tight.
Another deadline I’d forgotten. Another thing I was supposed to be on top of but wasn’t.
Perfect Alex Harrington didn’t forget assignments. Perfect Alex Harrington won all of his races. Perfect Alex Harrington would have taken the opportunity to study with Chelsea and tell the guys that I slept with her.
But no, that wasn’t me—that mask was falling apart.
I pulled out my phone as I walked, checked my calendar just to confirm what I already knew.
Yup. Tomorrow, 9 AM. Pre-Law Seminar brief due.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and kept walking.
That’s when I saw him.
Marcus was coming out of the student center, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. He hadn’t seen me yet—too focused on his screen.
I could’ve turned and gone a different direction to avoid this entirely. But Derek’s words echoed in my head. One honest thing at a time.
And I’d decided yesterday what that one honest thing would be, so I kept walking straight toward him. Marcus looked up and our eyes met. For a second, neither of us moved. Students flowed around us like water around stones, but we were frozen there on the pathway.
Then Marcus smiled. That easy, familiar smile he’d given me a thousand times before.
“Hey, man. Where’ve you been? You’ve been like, MIA since the party.”
The old Alex would have smiled back and would have made some joke about being busy with practice. He would have smoothed everything over and pretended nothing was wrong.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” I said.
Marcus’s smile faltered. “What?”
“I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t want to be around you right now.”
A confused look came across his face, then a smile, thinking I was joking. “Okay. What the fuck, Alex?”
“What you said to Remy at the party.” My voice was steady. “That wasn’t okay.”
“Seriously?” Marcus looked around like he was checking if anyone else was hearing this. “You’re pissed about that? It was a joke, man. I was drunk.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Jesus Christ.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “When did you become the PC police?”
“I’m not—“ I stopped. Took a breath. “I’m not being PC. I’m telling you that what you said was fucked up. And I’m done pretending it wasn’t.”
Marcus stared at me like he didn’t recognize me.
“You’ve said worse things. We both have. Since when do you care?”
“Since now.”
“Since now?” His voice rose slightly. “What, you have some kind of moral awakening after getting your ass beat on the water? After Liam fucking Moore embarrassed you in front of everyone?”
My face flushed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe not anymore.”
We stared at each other. Years of friendship fraying right there on the quad, and I couldn’t bring myself to care as much as I should have.
Students walked past us. Someone laughed nearby. The world kept moving like nothing was happening.
But everything was happening.
“You never had a problem with it before,” Marcus said, his voice dropping lower. Harder. “All those times at the lake. All those jokes about scholarship kids. About Liam being ‘the help.’ You never said shit.”
The words hit like a slap because he was right.
I’d stood there when Marcus had said those things. I’d laughed along with his shitty jokes. I’d never once called him out when he said things that made my stomach turn.
“You’re right. I didn’t call you out then. And I should have,” I said.
Marcus blinked.
“What you said was fucked up. And I’m done pretending it’s not.”
“Done pretending? That’s rich coming from you, Alex. You’ve been pretending your whole fucking life.”
Heat rose in my chest.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re the most fake person I know.” Marcus stepped closer. His voice was low enough that people walking past couldn’t hear, but I felt every word. “Perfect grades. Perfect rowing. Perfect son. But none of it’s real, is it? You’re just performing. Always have been.”
My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets.
“At least I’m trying to be better. You’re just trying to stay the same asshole you’ve always been.”
“Better? You think calling me out makes you better? You think that fixes all the times you said the same shit as me?”
I didn’t have anything more to say.
Marcus stared at me for a long moment.
“Whatever, man.” He turned to walk away, then stopped. Looked back. “You know what’s funny? I always thought we were the same. Both legacy kids, both playing the game, both pretending to be what our fathers wanted. But at least I’m honest about being an asshole. You’re just lying to yourself.”
He walked away before I could respond, and I stood there on the pathway, my heart pounding in my chest.
Marcus was right. I was lying to myself. About who I was. About what I wanted. About everything.
But I had just taken one small step toward being the person who I actually wanted to be... the person I actually was.
***
The library was nearly empty by ten PM.
Just a few scattered students on the third floor, hunched over laptops in their own private pools of lamplight. The silence felt heavy, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages or the soft click of keyboards.
I sat in a dark wood cubicle near the law section, staring at my laptop screen.
Pre-Law Seminar: Legal Brief Analysis
Topic: Perjury and False Testimony Under Oath
I’d been staring at it for twenty minutes. The cursor blinked in the empty document, patient and accusing.
Perjury. Lying under oath. Providing false testimony with intent to deceive.
I opened the first case study—United States v. Dunnigan.
A defendant commits perjury when they knowingly make a false statement under oath that is material to the case at hand...
The words swam on the screen.
The intent to deceive is central to establishing perjury...
Every conversation with my father. Every time he asked if I was seeing anyone. Every time I said no, or changed the subject, or let him assume I was interested in women.
Material statements are those which could affect the outcome...
I closed the case study.
My hands moved to the keyboard, and I started typing. Not the legal brief. Something else.
What would I need to do to stop lying to myself?
The question sat there on the screen my fingers kept moving.
I would need to admit that I’m gay. Not just think it in passing moments when I’m alone. Not just feel it when Liam looks at me. Actually admit it. Say it out loud.
My chest felt tight but I didn’t stop.
I would need to tell someone. Maybe Derek. Maybe Ethan, except I destroyed that friendship. Maybe no one at first. Maybe just say it to myself in the mirror and let that be enough for a while. No, that’d be weird.
The words kept coming, faster now.
I would need to face my father and tell him the truth about who I am.
My hands were shaking.
I would need to be honest with Liam, about how I think about him constantly. About how watching him row makes my chest ache. About how I ended it because I was terrified of wanting him more than I wanted my father’s approval.
I kept typing, I couldn’t stop.
I would need to face what I did to Ethan. Really face it. Not just apologize and hope he forgives me. Accept that I hurt him. That I violated his trust. That I used him and then tried to take something he didn’t want to give. Accept that some things can’t be fixed.
The cursor blinked at the end of the paragraph.
I would need to stop lying under oath to my own life.
I stared at what I’d written. Pages of it now. Raw and honest and terrifying.
None of it was the legal brief, and none of it would help me pass Morrison’s assignment, but it was the only thing I could write.
I saved the document in a hidden folder. Password protected it. Titled it “What It Would Take.”
Then I sat there, staring at the screen, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. My eyes burned. My shoulders ached. The third-floor study room felt too small suddenly, the air too thick.
I needed air. Or caffeine. Or something. I stood up and headed for the stairs.
The vending machines were on the ground floor, tucked into an alcove near the media lab. I tapped my card on the machine, watched an energy drink tumble down into the dispenser.
That’s when I saw Ethan through the glass door of one of the editing rooms—a figure hunched over a computer, multiple screens glowing in the dim space.
It was the first time I’d seen him since the night at his dorm.
He was alone, working on what looked like the crew recruitment reel—I could see the Kingswell colors.
My hand moved toward the door handle.
Stop.
What was I doing?
My hand fell away from the handle.
Ethan shifted in his chair and rolled his shoulders like they ached. I wanted to go in. God, I wanted to walk through that door and apologize again. Offer to help with the editing, or do something to prove I wasn’t the person who’d violated his trust.
Walking in there wouldn’t be about Ethan. It would be about me and easing my conscience and making myself feel less like a monster.
I’d spent so much time taking from Ethan—his time, his emotional labor, his friendship—without ever really seeing him. Without asking what he needed. Without respecting when he said no.
He’d be here for hours probably. Grinding through work he didn’t want to do because he needed the stipend. And there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I should do about it—not anymore.
I turned away from the glass and walked back toward the stairs.
The best thing I could do for Ethan was leave him alone. Let him work in peace without my guilt hovering in the hallway and let him make his own choice. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to make up for what I’d done.
I climbed back up to the third floor, energy drink in hand, and sat down at my cubicle.
The legal brief was still open on my laptop. Due in less than twelve hours. I opened a fresh document and started typing about perjury and false testimony and the legal consequences of lying under oath.
One word at a time. Even if those truths were only about legal theory and case precedent and things that had nothing to do with the mess I’d made of my own life.
It was all I could do right now.
All I could control.
And maybe learning to control less was exactly what I needed to do.