Chapter 11 Weston
Weston
You still sore?
I look down at my phone in my lap, glancing at it like I’m hiding a dirty habit.
All I can see right now are Sev’s eyes, looking up at me from the desk beside Dr. Sellwood’s podium at the front of the class.
I navigate over to my texts with Noah instead, shooting one off. He’s sitting in the seat next to me, and I cut him a glance after sending it.
Wes: I fucking hate Mondays.
Noah: I love them. I need all the fresh starts I can get.
Bad weekend?
Heinous. My dad might actually marry Kolina.
You ready for a stepbrother, Noah? Torin will be there on your big family vacations… in your guys’ house for summer break… at breakfast and dinner whenever you’re back home…
Why me, dude? Why me?
I hide a smile behind my hand and try to pay attention to the lecture again. Every time I watch the professor walk over toward the side of the class where Sev is, I keep my eyes locked on her, and never on him.
I can’t bring myself to look Sev in the eye right now.
My mind has been betraying me ever since the party, when I woke up the next morning and found the other side of the bed empty.
It was like a fog permeated every thought ever since.
What would it be like, if Sev actually was willing to date anyone?
What would he be like as a boyfriend?
Pointless thoughts. Practically everyone on the goddamn campus knows that Sevan wants a relationship as much as he wants a gun to his head. He’d prefer the gun, actually.
But I have some sick thing in my brain that makes me envision every perfect future I could have with someone the moment I get a hint of a crush, and apparently it happens even for people I should utterly despise, like Sev.
I used to do it with girls, back in high school.
I barely even knew what I wanted back then, but I’d still picture it all.
White goddamn picket fences.
Two kids.
Stupid shit like cuddling on the couch at night watching movies, or kissing my partner before bed. I’ve wanted a quiet, easy kind of love for my entire life, probably because I’ve never had anything like that before. I crave it, like an ache in my bones.
It’s not like I fall head over heels for everyone I meet like Noah does, but…
I fantasize.
Too much.
And every tender fantasy is fucking laughable when it comes to Sevan.
My phone buzzes again and I shift in my uncomfortable wooden desk chair, blinking back into reality as Dr. Sellwood still lectures about something at the front of class.
And this time it’s a text from Sev, poking at me again.
Sev: I’ll take that as a yes. You have to still be sore with the way you took all of me.
I’m trying to pay attention. The exam is next week.
I’ll tutor you privately if you’re worried about the material. Right now I want you to tell me if you’re still sore.
My ass is fine.
And what about your throat?
My cock betrays me, thickening under my desk.
I tap out a few attempts at replying to Sev, but then I delete each one before sending:
…You wish…
…Quit texting me…
…You’d have to choke me harder to make my throat sore…
“Mr. Knox, I assume there’s something very pertinent to the French constitution that you’re exploring on your phone screen right now?”
Dr. Sellwood’s voice cuts through the classroom and suddenly dozens of heads turn, all focused on me.
“Sorry about that, Professor,” I say softly, locking my phone and sliding it away.
“Weston,” Roman tells me later that night at the Kettle dining hall, waving me over to his table. “Come. Sit.”
Roman’s at the long table in the Kettle like he’s a king about to hold court. He invited a few of us Onyx guys to dinner, and I’m sure he wants to discuss the upcoming networking dinner.
I slide into the booth next to him as he finishes tapping out a text to someone.
Roman’s covered in tattoos but they’re nothing like Sev’s.
They’re all done in black ink, and most are just intricate patterns, spanning his arms and across his upper chest. He’s a private person, and keeps to himself most of the time, but I trust him more than almost anybody.
When Hunter and I were threatened last fall, Roman always stepped up. Always offered protection from his cousins and family ties to the mob.
But when I see him like this, positioned at the head of a long table and probably making some deal with someone over text, it strikes me that there’s so much I don’t know about Roman Petrov.
“Boys,” he says once more people are seated around the table with their trays of food, “this alumni dinner is going to be our best. Usually, we walk away with more connections than each previous year, and more and more offers. This year is going to be different, but even better for the longevity of Onyx Society.”
“Damn right,” Noah chimes in. “Roman cooked up something good for us.”
“What’s that mean?” Niko asks.
Roman just nods. “It means I took care of some things.”
“Roman has his ways,” Noah explains.
“You make it sound like he’s doing voodoo magic on them,” Niko says with a sly grin.
“Close to magic,” Roman offers. “But I need something from all of you, too. I need you to not be fucking lazy. There is information on every alum coming to the event in the Onyx shared drive. Look at it. Study it. Fucking memorize everything about the people, their companies, and even their goddamn favorite cocktails.”
“Why do we have to do that, if you already did your voodoo magic?” Ollie jokes.
Roman narrows his gaze. “Because I want them to continue respecting me and my family. Do you understand?”
The whole table goes quiet for a beat.
That tends to happen when Roman gets serious. We’re not afraid of him, but there’s a tacit understanding that we know when he isn’t fucking around. He acts like the society bodyguard and that means that he commands respect more than anyone else.
“Well, then I’ll be studying up,” Ollie says, breaking the ice for the rest of us.
“Your boyfriend could charm a rabid animal, you know,” I lean over and tell Niko.
“Isn’t he the greatest fucking thing on Earth?”
I puff out a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you love him.”
Everyone breaks off into side conversations as we start to eat. Niko leans back in his chair, sighing.
“I don’t hate secret societies like I did when I first joined, but I still don’t understand you guys,” Niko says. “Aren’t you all rich and well-connected already? Why are you fighting for alumni connections like you’re wolves tearing apart fresh prey?”
“Because it matters,” Rayne says from across the table.
“Unfortunately,” Hunter adds, then hauls a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth like he’s starved.
“All of us are competitive because of our backgrounds,” I tell Niko.
He shrugs me off.
There’s a reason Niko feels differently than I do.
Niko only exists because our father went off and cheated on my mom when I was a baby. There’s a reason Hunter and I never met our half-brother until last year. Our father paid to keep Niko out of our lives, until he died.
Which means that Niko didn’t grow up with Dad.
And Dad’s form of abuse was like a slow-boiling pot of water that Hunter and I were trapped inside. Dad would be encouraging one moment and a monster the next. And if I wasn’t competitive in school, he’d threaten to disinherit me or take away my ability to work for his company after graduation.
Now?
Shit’s different.
I want to put every scrap of money Dad left me toward something better. Something good. But the rules used to be written out for me, and now I’m lost.
Do I want to start a charity? A nonprofit for abused children?
Maybe something related to athletics, because sometimes sports were my only safe place growing up?
I don’t know how any of that works. I desperately want connections because I need a mentor to guide me who isn’t cruel and corrupt like my father was.
And I don’t want to think about the real world, anyway.
Onyx House is the first place where I’ve been certain that I belong. I wish I could freeze time and stay here forever, sometimes.
“Roman,” I say across the table, nodding over at him. “Do you know about anyone who was at the party Friday night who was new?”
He sips black coffee and thoughtfully looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “There was a guy I met who said he was from Lakehollow College. A woman who Matt invited from a bar. I think, maybe, another guy who Miller brought, an old high school friend. Is there a problem?”
“Apparently there was a guy there saying homophobic things about an Onyx member.”
I don’t mention that it was about Niko specifically, because it’s heartbreaking and I don’t want him to feel singled out.
Roman furrows his brow. “No chance in hell the Lakehollow guy was homophobic, because he told me he was gay within thirty seconds of conversation. The woman from the bar also talked about Pride, so I doubt it.”
“Maybe the guy Miller brought,” I offer.
“Miller doesn’t hang with assholes like that,” Noah says. “He had to be someone who just filtered in from campus.”
“How many random people filter down onto Red Row from campus, though?” Ollie asks.
“You’d be surprised,” I explain. “People find out about secret societies, they get curious, and they come down like they’re tourists sometimes.”
Roman looks lost in thought.
He gets up a minute later, taking his coffee mug back to grab some more, and I take the opportunity to walk over and catch him alone.
“Roman, the person specifically said something bad about Niko,” I tell him. “Maybe that can help us narrow it down.”
“Disgusting,” he says. “I’ll see what I can find out, but I doubt we’re going to be able to track him down without more info.”
“Sev Berlant is the one who heard it. He decked the guy out in the backyard.”
Roman raises his eyebrows. “I knew I saw some shit going down out there. But when I went outside it looked like people were just swimming.”
“Sev is telling the truth. I don’t think he’d lie about that.”
Roman studies my face for a minute. “You’re close with Sevan now, yes?”
Suddenly I feel like I’m under a spotlight.
“No. Can’t stand the guy. You know that.”
“Yes, but you slept with him at the party,” Roman says.
I freeze in place.
He said it so casually.
Like he was mentioning the time of day rather than something fucking earth-shattering.
“What?”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. You guys fucked.”
A group of girls walks by and one of them grins at me as she overhears that part of the conversation.
“Jesus Christ, Roman.”
He looks me up and down. “What’s the problem? People fuck every day at the house. And Noah, several times a day sometimes, at least until recently.”
“Who else knows about this?” I ask.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach and I suddenly feel like the floor is unsteady beneath me.
Roman shrugs one shoulder. “Dunno. I saw him walk out of your room naked and go to shower. Not rocket science. Bet he’s a good hate fuck, isn’t he?”
“I’m going to pass out.”
He puts a hand out to squeeze my shoulder. “Relax. You’re not in trouble. You’re not doing anything wrong. Happy you’re getting your dick wet, Knox. But I will want to talk to Sevan about the incident at the party, understand?”
“I don’t want to involve your family,” I blurt out.
He gives me a cold stare. “Some people in my family can be violent, but they’re not going to murder someone in cold blood just because I say he caused an issue at a party. Again. Relax.”
“Please don’t tell the whole frat. I know they wouldn’t judge, but I just… I don’t want it out there. Okay?”
“Sure. I never hated Sevan like you did, Wes. Seems like a good guy. Tough guy, good guy. If you know what I mean.”
I’m not sure I do know what Roman means.
My stomach is too twisted into knots to pay attention to anything right now.
Roman pats me on the back before turning back toward the table. “Alumni dinner. Study up,” he calls back to me before walking off.
Next time I walk into Sellwood’s class, Sev isn’t there.
Maybe he called in sick, or maybe he’s playing hooky.
At first it feels like a massive relief to see his class assistant chair empty for the entirety of class. But I can’t help but wonder where he is, more and more, as class goes on.
He hasn’t texted me in two days, either.
Not that he owes me anything.
I slide out my phone and shoot off a quick message.
Not in class today? Too bad. Was going to offer to blow you under the desk.
As I press send, my heart beats a little faster.
It’s not the kind of joke I usually make. Not the kind I should be making to him, ever. But I couldn’t stop myself.
He’s rubbing off on me.
And that feels like a dangerous thing.
But Sev still isn’t in Sellwood’s class next time, either.
The class meets Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and it’s Friday now.
He also never responded to my last text, and a twisting grip of shame has been eating away at me ever since.
I shouldn’t have sent the text.
And I feel like a fool as I make a vow to myself, sitting there in class paying zero attention to the French Revolution history lesson: I’m not doing anything with Sevan again. No matter how tempting it is. No matter how much I convince myself it’ll just be one more time.
At the root of it, I feel like I’ve been betraying who I really am.
I don’t want anything to do with someone like Sev Berlant. Someone who fucks with me, makes me feel things, then drops away like a ghost without even a word.
My frustration only increases throughout the rest of the day.
When I finally meet up with Niko a few hours later at the gym, I can’t help but bring up Sev.
“Your cousin’s been missing in action during class,” I say before hoisting up an intensely heavy barbell over my head.
“Sev went home this week,” Niko says, his face straining into a grimace on the leg press machine. He exhales, then finishes his set. “Went to go be with his mom.”
I drop the barbell. “Did something happen?”
“No. But Sev was worried something might happen. She’s had some issues with painkillers in the past, and apparently her voice sounded a bit suspect over the phone.”
“Fuck.”
The tight coil that’s been wrapping itself around my chest all week starts to loosen, bit by bit.
I’m… an asshole.
Making everything about myself, when Sev is actually away to support his mother.
“It’s really sad,” Niko says. “He’s kind of watching her like a hawk, apparently. Getting up each night to check that she isn’t taking too many sleeping pills or Xanax.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say, frowning. “Does she have a history of attempting an overdose?”
“She tried once.”
My heart sinks. “That’s horrible,” I say softly. “I’m… we have to do something, Niko.”
“I offered to come over yesterday after class, but you know Sev. He said he’s fine on his own, yadda yadda, just like usual. Lone wolf shit.”
“Fuck that. How far away is his mom’s house?”
Niko shrugs. “About an hour.”
“Then we can go tonight.”
“Weston, trust me, Sev doesn’t mind handling things on his own—”
“We’re going,” I say, my tone final.