Chapter 21 Conrad
Conrad
Malena was avoiding me.
Successfully.
Which was impressive because we were on a boat.
After what had to be a record time of two hours, Malena and Azalea marched onto the dock with the first edition Walter Hugo novel that was hidden around one of the historic sculptures on campus.
Now, standing out on the deck wrapped in a blanket, she was deep in conversation with Alex Scott. And had been ever since Azalea went down to the galley awhile ago.
The thorny grip around my chest tightened and I knew, strangely, that it wasn’t envy. It was confusion. I had no idea what I did to make her start avoiding me.
“Holmes,” I interrupted. After a brief flash of what looked like concern, her shoulders rolled down. “Alex, you mind?”
He shot me a glare but kept moving, and Malena’s eye skated up to meet mine.
“What the hell is a coxswain?” she asked quietly as Alex walked off to the larger sun deck at the bow of the boat where there were about fifteen people draped in blankets. Several members were seated around the bar, and the rest of the group had gone down to the galley.
Here, at the stern’s more intimate sundeck, it was just Mal and me left.
I handed her a warm cider from inside. “The first position on the rowing team. They steer the rudder from their seat at the front, facing the rowers.”
“That’s a crew thing?” Her voice lowered with understanding. “I thought he was being disgusting.”
With that, the awkward tension melted away and I wondered if she was actually avoiding me or if I’d been in my head this whole time for nothing. Something about her had every instinct scrambled. She was a flirt, which never bothered me until I saw it directed at another person.
“No, Alexander Scott really takes it seriously,” I assured her. “His whole family is like that. They call his dad The Captain.”
Malena winced. “Yikes.” She turned and leaned her arms on the railing.
I chuckled to myself. “You know you really pissed off James by finishing that game so quickly.”
A smile touched her lips. “My sister and I never missed an episode of White Collar. That has to count for something.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“We’re not close,” she answered curtly, her smile falling to a straight line. “We used to be, when we were kids.”
“If it makes you feel better…” Something about seeing that spark in her eyes dim made me want to light a new one. “Sitting in the same room to watch a TV show is a hell of a lot more than I’d ever get out of my brothers.”
A corner of her mouth tilted up. “Oh yeah?”
“Most days I’m just waiting for the news that one poisoned the other,” I admitted, and she laughed. The sound warmed every inch of skin it touched. “My money’s on Tripp.”
“And where do you fall into the mix?”
“I avoid it. I’d rather be the ne’er-do-well Hastings than anywhere near that murder mystery.”
Her smile grew. I’d do anything to hold on to that feeling—the one of pulling away whatever was weighing her down.
“Is your sister trying to poison you?” I added dryly.
“I guess not. We’re not nearly as ridiculous,” she conceded. “Avani is…” She paused, and her eyes flickered back and forth. “She’s perfect in all the ways that matter.”
Talking to Malena was like walking through a hedge maze. I kept hitting dead ends, but I was determined to keep going. “And those are…”
She opened her mouth and took an inhale, like she was going to explain, then closed it again.
This time, I waited.
“We’re different, I guess,” she said finally. “It makes sense that we’re not close anymore. She’s a lot older. Already in residency.”
“Smart and a doctor,” I deadpanned. “It’s like night and day.”
Her shoulders rumbled with a tiny laugh. “We are different. But back when we were little, she used to humor me and read some of my kids’ mystery books with me. Then we’d compete on who could solve the mystery first.”
“Let me guess. You won?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Sometimes I’d skip to the end of the book first.”
I leaned in. “That’s cheating.”
“Only cheating myself, so it doesn’t count.” She held her hand up like it made more sense that way.
“You realize that sucks the fun out of finding out.”
“Maybe, but it’s peaceful.” She smiled wistfully at the sun as it melted along the horizon.
I leaned my hips against the railing and turned to face her, inching closer. “So, it turns out that the best reporter at Winchester is on the pre-med track. Seems like a shame.”
“I’ll be a great doctor and a great writer. Two things can be true at once,” she pointed out. “And this is going to sound conceited…”
I grinned. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I’m smart. Top of my class, perfect GPA, flawless extracurricular record,” she listed off. “It all comes naturally to me. It’s stressful sometimes, but I can’t waste that.”
“Writing would be wasting it?”
Her brow lifted. “Have you ever compared the salary difference or job stability of a critical care physician to a writer?”
I lifted my hands. “Point taken.”
“My parents had advanced degrees before they immigrated to the States. They had to redo all of it—it cost them time and money, years of sacrifice. They were incredibly intelligent but didn’t have a lot of opportunities. And I…”
Her eyes flicked around the water.
“You have both.”
She nodded.
“Stability is safety,” she said, like she was repeating an earworm marketing campaign she’d heard a thousand times. “I like to write, so I do.” She sighed. “I don’t know, why shut any doors now?”
There was an optimism in her words that practically bathed her in a glow. Brilliant and impossible to look away from.
“That’s why you want the Keller win,” I surmised. “So you can keep writing too?”
It was prestigious and a big deal in the writing world. One that had begun as a fun way to needle my dad, who was so sure I’d be a disappointment.
But all of that had changed over the last few weeks.
Now, I wanted to know what was going on with those paintings. And I wanted to figure it out with her.
“Part of it.” Her voice swung up. “The money would—” She looked down at her glass.
The Keller Award was prized at a hundred thousand dollars. It wasn’t nothing, that was for sure.
“It would help?” I offered.
“Yeah.” She drew in a breath and turned the glass in her hand before looking me square in the eye. “You know… sad little rich boy is trite. You have a world of opportunities.”
I wasn’t sad, I just knew what it looked like when none of your effort mattered. It was plastered on my mom’s face every time she learned of a new affair. “And only one correct answer.”
I was well aware that I was lucky to live the way I did. But I envied Malena, because all of that ambition was going somewhere. She had control over what happened next, and not knowing the ending to a story made it a hell of a lot more compelling than one whose ending was unavoidable.
A judgmental divot carved between her brows.
“So?” she questioned with enough withheld disbelief I wasn’t sure if she was actually confused.
“So…” I laughed nervously. The weight of her full attention was heavy.
But so fucking addicting.
“I mean, do both.” She threw her hand up like it was obvious.
“You’re a business and English major, right?
” she asked, and I nodded. “Great, then go to B-school, work at Hastings Media, and figure out what you want while you do it.” She counted off on her fingers.
“Being the ne’er-do-well Hastings is beneath you. ”
Mean and commanding—if I wasn’t mistaken, that was her version of a compliment.
“And what, leave after that?” I drawled. It wasn’t exactly an option, but just saying it aloud was exciting.
A warm buzz surrounded us, different than in the library. This time, it was like a magnet, pulling me closer to her.
“Or stay, if God forbid you enjoy the work.” A tiny giggle cut through the seriousness. “Either way, make sure the trust fund clears first.”
I barked a laugh. The idea was almost underhanded, yet another surprise out of Malena Amin.
Her voice lowered a bit, softer and more serious. “Seems unfair to give up what you want before you ever learn what it is.”
“Yeah…”
She took a long breath, and in that millisecond, something shifted in the air between us.
She took a step back.
“Besides.” She smacked my chest with the back of her hand—friendly and not at all flirtatious. “Ambition isn’t just for people who plan to die on Everest.”
I took the hint and stepped back myself.
She smiled, and I couldn’t help but do the same.
Uncovering all of her many talents made me wonder because underneath all of that ambition was a measure of hopefulness. One she hung on to for some reason. Like she wasn’t sure she’d get what she aspired for but would fight like hell anyway.
Which only confused me more, because if there was one person who was well-equipped to get everything they wanted, it was Malena.