Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Three years, two months, two weeks, and six days earlier
Edinburgh, Scotland
The guys are a few feet from us, currently talking about the Antonine Wall, the fort in Newstead, some other shit that always seems to loop back to the Roman Empire, and I must admit it: it’s kinda hot, watching Conor lay his dick on the table.
The way my male friends gather around him like he shits good advice and life skills gives me some secondhand embarrassment, but it’s nice that he doesn’t look too out of place, even in a bar that’s literally in a student union—a converted library where the median age is nowhere near his. His clothes are simple, but too high quality to really blend in, and there is an assurance about his presence that sets him apart. Still, since he settled everyone’s tab and kept the bill running, Alfie has been giving him resentful glances, and witnessing that feels almost as good as sex.
I don’t think Conor enjoys being at the center of attention. He’s well practiced, socially adept, but it’s obvious to me that he sees my friends as infants who just outgrew their diapers. I’ve been developing a theory about him, which is still half-baked, but here goes: The smooth manner in which he conducts himself, the ease as he walks about the world, is only superficial. He has learned how to be congenial and businesslike, but that’s just the surfacing tip of the iceberg. Deep down there is something else. Wilderness, maybe. A block of ice. A lot of control, for sure.
The worst part is, I am the one he should be hanging out with. He keeps looking in my direction, maybe bored, maybe just checking in. We both know that if it was just the two of us, we’d be having way more fun.
Like we did today.
Sorry , I text him from my table.
When he reads the message he turns toward me to mouth, You better be , and I don’t hide my grin.
“You know,” Rose tells me, sipping her hot toddy, “I briefly wondered if you had lost your mind and were letting some old guy dip his cookie into your milk just to get back at Alfie, but…”
I follow her gaze all the way to Conor. “But?”
“Now that I’ve seen him, no notes. I’d do him.”
I laugh. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t. The idea is repulsive. But less so than most men. I can appreciate him, aesthetically.” She ponders it. “Maybe it’s because he had more time.”
“More time to…?”
“Become attractive. Maybe hotness is something you marinate toward? The longer you have, the more likely it is to accumulate?”
Maybe. But: “You know, he’s not just handsome. He’s actually really fun to talk to, too.”
“Right, yeah.” Rose seems skeptical. “I reckon you discuss…yachting and certificates of deposit?”
“Both topics have yet to come up,” I say, wondering if she’d be surprised to find out that we spent the day together.
It wasn’t the plan. I stood from our table at Loudons expecting to go our separate ways. It wasn’t premeditated, the way I tugged at his shirt and asked, “ Hey, there are usually rowers on the river at this time, on Saturdays. Want me to take you? ”
He did. We went. Sat on the grass a little off the walkway and criticized the rowers’ form. “ I can’t believe the angle of their grip on the paddle ,” I said, disgusted. “ So amateurish .”
Conor turned to me. Took off his sunglasses. “ Do you know anything at all about rowing? ”
“Nope.”
It earned me a deep sigh. His hand grabbed my hood and pushed it over my head and all the way down my face, and I laughed and laughed even though I felt breathless.
Then there was a castle, and while we walked through the stone staircases I told him all about my feud with otters and similarly shaped animals. It was followed by another castle, and I found out that he almost got a PhD in biochemistry, and as he told me about his project, he sounded like such a consummate nerd , I couldn’t help teasing him, even as he wondered out loud “ whether you’d fit through the arrow slits, Trouble .”
After pressing him for about ten minutes, I discovered that in his spare time —“Which I do not have, Maya”— he enjoys playing grand strategy wargames. “You are a nation,” he explained. “And use its resources to craft a military strategy.”
“Conor Harkness,” I tutted. “You walking red flag.”
“I’m a man in finance in my midthirties, talking to a twenty-year-old about his lifelong hobbies. I’m surprised you didn’t notice before.”
“Are we talking…Risk?”
“I’d rather not elaborate.”
“Or wait—is that computer games?”
“This conversation is over.”
“Are these war games you speak of just glorified Excel spreadsheets, Conor?”
“No comment.”
He’s so much older than me, our age gap could apply for a driver’s permit. But he listened when I tried to articulate that as much as I love physics, I’m not certain that’s the career I want. Problem is, I’m also not certain that I don’t. Which…Whatever. I’ll figure it out.
“ Why do you do that? ” he asked.
“What?”
“Interrupt yourself before finishing a thought.”
I remembered trying to express the same doubts to Alfie. “ Um. Usually people interrupt me first, anyway? ”
A scowling glance. “ You need to find better people, then .”
It was fun, spending time with him. All the things we have in common. The people in our lives. The shared language of Austin, with its love for H-E-B and the profound hatred for I-35 traffic.
Maybe , I thought, I miss home more than I realized.
He received a lot of calls throughout the day. Most he declined. Some, he sighed and said, “ Sorry, I have to take this. ”
One of them was from my brother. “ Guess who I’m with? ” he asked as he picked up.
“I don’t know.” I immediately recognized Eli’s voice. “Is it the police? Have you been arrested for stabbing your father?” I realized that Conor was going to tell Eli that he’d flown here to see me, and…
I shook my head, quickly, instinctively. “ Don’t ,” I whispered. “ Don’t tell him .”
Conor’s eyes locked with mine, his confusion was obvious. And yet. “ You’re exactly right ,” he told Eli, before changing the topic. “ About the Mayers final bid diligence .”
“ Why? ” he asked after hanging up.
“ I…don’t want him to worry ,” I said. Conor looked at me like he sensed the lie, and…so did I. I just couldn’t figure out what the true reason was, so I decided to force-feed him some Irn-Bru.
I was going to go home and get changed before meeting the others. I think Conor planned to do the same. It just kind of happened, that we checked the time and realized that we were late. And the reason I’m wearing his coat is…well. He runs hot. I don’t.
“You okay?” Rose asks when Georgia leaves for the loo. Her palm rubs affectionately against my thigh. “You seem a little distracted.”
“Just—” Tired , I’m about to say. Instead I put down my empty soda glass and shift toward her. “Did you know that it was going on? Alfie and Georgia?”
Her button nose scrunches up. “You already asked. Did you forget?”
“No. It’s just, you didn’t seem too shocked about it.”
“I didn’t know, Maya.”
Maybe I should stop being confrontational about this. It’s just that…“If Surika dumped you,” I say calmly, “and a week later I caught her making out with my cousin, I would be more open to admitting that my cousin acted like a total cunt.”
“Do you have a cousin?”
“What?”
“I’m just saying—you never mentioned having a cousin.”
I let out a small, annoyed laugh. “I do. Second or third degree. I don’t really talk to them.”
“Yeah, well.” She shrugs. “Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but…it’s better for everyone if we move on. I mean, you aren’t so innocent yourself.”
“How so?”
“You and Hot Rich Guy were in touch the whole time. And I don’t blame you—keep your options open. But we can move past the recriminations, no?”
“I think that I’m allowed to be angry at my roommate for banging my ex. And maybe I’m also allowed to be angry at my closest friend for not taking my side more forcefully.”
“I know you think that. It’s because you have significant anger issues.”
My eyes turn to slits. “That is low, Rose.”
“Oh, come on, Maya. She’s my cousin .”
I have to take half a million deep breaths, before I can say, “I get where you’re coming from.” I slide out of the booth, hopping off the elevated platform. “I just wish you tried to do the same.”
I walk away, done with the conversation, letting resentment twist through me. Staying with Rose seems pointless, especially when there’s someone else I’d rather spend time with. Someone who’s not going to lie to my face. Plus, I want something stronger than soda.
At the counter, I lean over to catch the bartender’s attention. Fail, repeatedly, until Conor appears at my side.
“Hey,” he tells the woman. “She’ll have…”
“A shot. Tequila.”
He winces. “I just purchased alcohol for my friend’s underage sister. Brilliant.”
“It’s perfectly legal. I’ve been drinking since I was sixteen, anyway—”
“Did not need to know that.”
“—so I built up some really good enzymes.”
A shot slides my way. I down it quickly, feeling Conor’s eyes fixed on my bobbing throat, the heat that starts in my stomach and spreads in all directions.
When I slam the glass on the dark wood, the bartender pours me another.
Conor’s eyebrow rises.
“Shots are smaller here.” I lean against the counter, facing him. “So, do you like my friends?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Some of them are great. The birthday boy will go far in life.”
“Yeah, Sami’s awesome.”
“But the one in the tracksuit?”
“Jethro.”
“He’s thinking of starting a podcast. And I’m not sure that what he has to say is monetizable.”
“I’m not convinced anyone listens to him for free.” I snort. “Have any of the guys asked you for a loan yet?”
He shrugs. “Not in so many words, no.”
“But?”
“The guy with the fringe tried to pitch me his dating app for adult diapers lovers.”
“Grant? I always suspected that he was a weirdo, but—”
“The weirdo is someone else,” a voice interrupts me. When Conor and I turn, Alfie is standing close by. Wasn’t it just the two of us, a couple of shots ago?
“Excuse me?” I ask. But Alfie’s not looking at me, and his face is ruddy, like he drank too much.
“You are the perv, aren’t you, mate?”
“Well, yeah.” Conor nods, unfazed. “Not sure how you found out about that, though.”
“Takes a single look. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
Alfie’s smile is mean-spirited. I’ve never seen his face do anything like that. I like to believe that if I had, we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did. “Do you know how old Maya is? Twenty. She could be your daughter.”
“You’re way overestimating the game I had at fourteen, mate .” Conor takes another sip of his stout, then sets it aside. “But it’s only fair that you worry.”
Alfie puffs up. “Glad you see the issue.”
“Of course I do. You care about Maya, who’s very young—younger than the both of us—and you wouldn’t want me to take advantage of her…na?veté, shall we say?” He must notice my scowl, because his fingers rise up behind me and drum against my spine. Patience . “You respect her, want the best for her, and cannot stand to see her hurt. For all you know, I’ll exploit her trust, and maybe even break her heart. And that would be so fucking callous of me, wouldn’t it?”
Alfie’s cheeks grow even redder—from the alcohol, the heat inside the pub, the shame, I can’t tell. All I know is that Conor’s arm is wrapping around my shoulder, tugging me closer, curling in to rub his knuckles against my jaw.
Nice. It’s nice.
“Word of advice, lad?” Conor says.
Alfie nods stiffly.
“Get out of my sight. Right now. And do not talk to Maya unless you’re answering a question she personally asked you.”
When Alfie looks at me wide-eyed, vaguely shocked by the threat, I smile and tell him, “You should do as he says. He’s so much older than us, there’s no telling what his impulse control is.”
Alfie bristles away. When he’s out of sight, I angle my body toward Conor’s, savor the unfurling warmth of the tequila, and say, “That was fun.”
“Was it?”
“Mmm. Maybe not for Alfie.” I smile up at him. After a while, Conor answers in kind. “We should go,” I tell him.
“Yeah. I think I’ve had enough of college students.”
“Hey. I’m a college student.”
He sighs. “And don’t I know it.”
It’s his hand on the small of my back that pushes me out of the pub.