Chapter 13
Conrad
“You slept with Azalea?” I asked, my voice curved up hopefully.
The cool morning air skimmed over the water. James had been waiting for me on the porch at the shell house and caught me just as I was leaving to get back to campus after rowing all morning.
“No, I had sex with her,” James clarified impassively with a grin, after he explained where he ended up last night.
I came out here around sunrise because I couldn’t sleep.
A feeling of pins and needles had bothered me all night, and this was my futile attempt to clear my head.
After everything that happened at the Amherst Building, I’d returned to the mausoleum for my bike and came home to an empty place.
I figured Felix and James were still out, and instead of sleep, all I did was toss and turn in bed.
Maybe it was simply being down in the catacombs and finding that open door, or maybe it was almost getting caught by security.
I knew two things for sure: For the first time in years, I wanted to do something for the paper. And I couldn’t stop replaying that kiss.
I never got a straight answer from James about Malena, and now she was living rent-free in my mind. That was a sign of a guilty conscience, right?
“You like her?” I asked as we walked down the steps from the shell house. “Because I think that’s the only loophole in the don’t fuck your friends rule.”
We didn’t live by many, but that one and don’t fuck anyone over were the only two rules we ever held each other accountable for. I never aspired to be the kind of guy who fucked people over.
I wasn’t my dad.
“She’s not my friend,” James defended, nodding his head in the direction of campus. I checked my phone for the time—close to nine.
“She’s Scroll & Ivy,” I reminded him.
“Azalea Burton is a big girl, she’ll be just fine,” James said, a little sharper this time.
But Azalea was different. She was a new member, equal parts old and new money. Her mom was an Amherst, and her dad was Wall Street tycoon Clark Burton. James would run in those circles for the rest of his life, and given that he was the Rutherford heir, he needed to keep those relationships tidy.
“Is that why you’re all moody?” he drawled, and I looked past his shoulder at the bay. “Azalea?”
“I’m not—”
“You were out here before sunrise. Conrad on the water this early in the morning is a distress signal.”
“I kissed her,” I blurted, and stopped on the path.
There, I admitted it. He could punch me and we could all move on. The incessant overthinking and pins and needles could fucking cease.
“Who?” James looked around at the empty bay. “Azalea?”
“Malena.”
We never went after the same girl. If we happened to be interested in the same one, I backed down because—aside from these past few weeks—James was the “bring her home to Mom and Dad” type of guy. I wasn’t.
“Oh…” He stilled and blinked a couple of times.
Shit.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I insisted, trying to sound disinterested, because why would I be interested?
I wasn’t. She’d inserted herself into my life, I had to work with her, James maybe liked her, and I kissed her.
End of story. “We ended up in the Amherst Building’s library after we left the mausoleum, got caught, and it was the first thing I thought of. ”
He nodded. The next ten seconds felt like hours as he processed.
“It’s fine,” he answered, studying me like he was looking for something. “Really, it is.”
“You were going to ask her out,” I stated instead of asking if he still wanted to.
“Honestly… yeah, I was. But I hardly know her.” He paused. “She’s hot. And, if given the opportunity, I’d have slep—”
“You’re not mad?” I interrupted, because I really didn’t need to hear the rest.
“Nope.” He slapped a supportive hand on my shoulder. “But, if it makes you feel better, we can duel at dawn.”
I chuckled, relieved. Maybe now I could forget it ever happened.
“If you like her…”
“I don’t,” I answered reflexively.
It probably didn’t matter, given how fast the moment between us had evaporated when she got that call. The one that made her disappear without a word.
It certainly wasn’t her mother calling after midnight.
James’s eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
“I wanted to tell you, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
I did not like the grin he was giving me. But before I could say anything, I noticed a few messages on my phone. My pulse jumped.
Then, my shoulders sank with a disappointed exhale. It was my dad.
Satan: I will be at the president’s annual fundraiser dinner next week.
Satan: I expect you there on time.
Not sure who I was expecting to text me, but it sure as hell wasn’t him.
Me: See you then, Dad.
Even though James and I were good, the pins and needles remained.