Chapter 34 Malena
Malena
Igot to my American Lit class early on Thursday, hoping to catch up on some last-minute reading.
The lecture hall was like an amphitheater—a semicircle with a giant chalkboard at the center and long curved tables that swept around it. When I walked in, the chair next to mine—the one Kash occasionally filled—was taken.
James Rutherford tapped his pen on his notebook as he scrolled his phone, wearing an expensive-looking wool sweater and a bored expression.
“Burr.” Skepticism laced around my monotone as I set my bag down at the table. I kept my coat on because despite the heating, the century-old gray stone structure was constantly chilly.
Dark hair and dark eyes looked up at me above a pleased smile. “Hamilton.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m in this class,” he stated matter-of-factly. “In case you weren’t aware.”
“James,” I repeated.
I’d seen him in the last row, studiously taking notes, but he always kept to himself. Today, he was bright-eyed and early, and had apparently decided to change his seating arrangement nine weeks into the semester.
“This spot is closer to the front, less drafty…”
“So you got here ten minutes early to claim it?” I sat down next to him.
“Company’s not bad either.”
“You’ll make a girl blush.”
“All right…” He tapped my head with his pen, then used it to point to the board in front of the lecture hall. “I know I’m the better looking one, but you need to stop flirting with me. You’re gonna get me killed.”
A delightful, if not slightly indignant, buzz skittered along my skin at the idea of Conrad sending James to act as his loyal watchdog.
I stacked my hands neatly on top of each other. “Are you going to pee on me next?”
“Listen.” James turned to his laptop. “What you and Conrad do in the privacy of—”
“Please stop. Forget I said anything.” I squeezed my eyes closed.
I pulled out my notebook, watching him from the corner of my eye.
“Conrad asked you to do this?” I dragged my pen along the metal spiral, then the blank pages.
“No, of course not,” he answered with a firm sincerity. “But I figured this seat was empty and maybe that was giving people the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea?”
“That this seat is available.” He cocked his head to the side and motioned his hands over himself. “When clearly, it is not.”
It was so adorably wrapped in double-speak I almost didn’t see the concern flash through his eyes. James was a good friend. A protective one. And I knew this was him warning me as much as it was him welcoming me. Honestly, it felt like something Cora would do.
“Are we still talking about chairs?”
James leaned back in his and linked his fingers behind his head. “Nope.”
Conrad and I had yet to have the exclusivity talk, because I was actively dodging it.
Most recently: my hasty retreat two days ago in the mausoleum.
The sooner we had the talk, the sooner it became real, and then I’d have to start making choices I wasn’t prepared for.
I’d tell him about my parents and Conrad would assume the same thing Cora and Sabrina did: their “overprotective” habits would eventually give way to acceptance.
Cora and Sabrina, as well-intentioned as they were, couldn’t understand the simple truth that if—when—it came down to it, I’d choose my family. Because otherwise, I would be out on my ass. Alone.
It was why flings were a necessity; anything more boxed me into a corner.
“Understood.” I dipped my chin in agreement. “Make yourself comfortable, Burr.”
He chuckled.
“The whole Hamilton/Burr thing really drives him crazy.” James shoved my shoulder with his. “Now that he isn’t scowling all the time, pissing him off is fun again.”
Later that afternoon, I put my water bottle down next to my reformer at the Pilates studio in town. The low-lit room, filled with a subdued syncopated beat and neon blue lights, was the exact vibe for the mental and physical torment we were about to willingly submit to.
I loved Cora, but her Pilates addiction was going to kill me. She did this class three days a week; I only managed to make it to one, at best. These weren’t women working out, these were sleeper agents training for combat.
“If I can’t walk after this…” I began with no real threat in mind.
“I guess Conrad will have to do some work and get on top.” Cora shrugged.
I laughed and made my way to the end of the machine, adjusting the handlebars to my height.
“Oh, by the way,” Cora called from her reformer next to mine. “My mom told me that I got a letter for the Autumn Awards ceremony in the mail, so your parents probably got the same one.”
I froze.
Shit.
I hadn’t visited home in a few weeks, which meant that I couldn’t intercept mail. The Autumn Awards ceremony was held for juniors who maintained excellent academic records. The letter would go to the address listed on my file, where my parents would definitely open it.
The only benefit to these events was that they gave my parents reason to dote on me. And I knew it was partially because they loved being my parents when I was being celebrated academically. But either way, it was nice.
Except now things were complicated.
“I forgot about that,” I admitted softly. The ceremony usually fell on a weeknight, so I could only hope it would be too much of a hassle for them to make it here after work. Maybe they wouldn’t come. “When is it?”
I let out a resigned sigh, knowing that regardless, my mom would make time. Being that it was an accolade she could brag about to her friends, of course.
“Next Thursday, but don’t worry, we’ll do what we always do.” Cora tested the different resistance bands and started stretching her calves. “I’ll make sure anything controversial is out of sight. And you steer them off campus as soon as possible.”
The news gave me whiplash as I mentally calculated the additional loose ends.
I had to make sure Conrad and anyone in his circle kept a wide berth, had to avoid any mention of the paper, and I certainly couldn’t risk them finding out about my trip overseas.
The careful web I’d constructed was beginning to resemble a net slowly trapping me.
“Yeah…” I laid my body flat on the machine’s cushion and stared at the ceiling.
A week wasn’t enough time to think of a suitable way to keep them off campus. The thought alone made surviving this class feel easy in comparison to an evening juggling two lives.