11. Tristan
11
TRISTAN
“ D id we have to meet here? You know I hate being around rich, pretentious assholes.” Roman gave the Nottswood Golf & Country Club terrace a sweeping, disdainful look as he took a seat at the table I’d reserved for us.
“Says the rich, pretentious asshole whose two best friends are also rich, pretentious assholes,” Knox drawled, and Roman gave him the finger.
“Okay. Maybe you have a point. Whatever. Why are we here?”
I sat back in my seat, eyeing my two best friends from behind my aviators. “We’re here because I found something, and I wondered if either of you could shed some light on it. Ro, probably not so much you—no offence—but your girlfriend might have some information. Although…I think it would be best if you could ask her discreetly and keep it to yourselves for now. I don’t want Aria getting wind of it. She’ll just give me shit, and she’s already enough of a pain in my ass.”
“I have no fucking clue what you just said. You want me to ask my girlfriend what?”
Knox drummed his fingers on the table. “Explain.”
As quickly and succinctly as I could, I told them about the box, and where I’d found it, and Aria’s questions last night.
When I was finished, Knox raised a brow. “You think this is suspicious? She probably just wants to find out more about her family.”
“Yeah, but why was the box hidden under the floorboards?” Roman mused. “What was in the journal?”
“Oh, yeah.” I’d forgotten I’d taken photos. “Here. Look at these.”
The two of them studied the images, their heads bent together.
Roman traced his finger across the words written beneath the scales on the journal’s cover. “What does this mean? In nomine iustitiae, omnia iustificata ?”
“My Latin is rusty, but according to Google, it roughly translates as something like ‘in the name of justice, all things are justified.’ I’m guessing that’s what the scales are for.”
“ Your Latin is rusty .” Roman rolled his eyes, and this time, I gave him the finger. He smirked at me. “So what is this? Some kind of secret society shit?”
“What?” I stared at him. Okay, the thought had crossed my mind when I’d found the box…but surely if there was a secret society, I’d know about it. My grandfather would have told my dad, who would have told me. “What makes you say that?”
“The Latin motto. The names. The secretive location. Isn’t it obvious?”
“Yeah, now you mention it, that has to be it,” Knox agreed. “The ring with the crest, too. Don’t secret societies live for that kind of shit?”
“I didn’t know our school had a secret society,” I began, and Knox shook his head.
“It doesn’t. We’d know about it otherwise. We’d be running the whole fucking thing. But it looks like it did at one point. Want me to talk to my dad? See if he knows anything? If the names of both of our grandfathers are on this list, then the odds are high. Are you going to ask your dad about it?”
“I don’t know. He was acting a bit weird when Aria was asking questions last night. I don’t know if he knew something and didn’t want to say or if he just felt uncomfortable bringing up her past since her great-uncle died or whatever, but he didn’t have much to say. I might have to cut out the middleman and pay a visit to my grandfather, and that’s something I’d rather not do.” My grandfather officially had his own wing in the family mansion, but he unofficially lived with my uncle in a sprawling Cotswolds manor house. Every time I saw him, he grilled me on my future plans, my grades, how I needed to improve shit for my future prospects…it was fucking exhausting. “That ring, though. I know he has one the same. I remember seeing him wearing it.”
Knox’s brows pulled together. “Yeah. This whole thing is weird. I’ll speak to my dad. I want to know what this is all about, too. In all the stories he told me about school when I was growing up, he never mentioned a secret society, but surely my grandfather would’ve told him something.”
“You could?—”
I never discovered what Roman had been about to say because his phone buzzed, and he snatched it up with a wide, dopey-as-fuck grin on his face. I saw his girlfriend’s picture appear on the screen, and I shook my head.
“Whipped.”
Knox snorted. “I can’t wait to see you in a relationship.” He paused. “You’d better get on with that. I wanna see it before we all go our separate ways.”
Roman glanced up from his phone, his eyes widening. “Fuck that. Even if we all end up in different places, we’re still gonna see each other.”
Pushing my sunglasses up to the top of my head, I looked between my two best friends, closer to me than brothers. Blood didn’t define family. These two were my ride or dies. “Yeah. We’re family. Wherever we go and whoever we’re with, that’s not gonna change.”
Knox held up his fist. “Agreed.” We bumped fists, then did the same with Roman.
Settling back in my chair, I steered the conversation back to Roman’s original comment. “Be prepared for disappointment because you’re not gonna see me in a relationship for a long time. I have plans once we leave Hatherley Hall. Sweden, Denmark, Germany?—”
“You’re planning on spending your summer fucking your way around Europe?” Knox smirked at Roman, the two of them exchanging a glance I wasn’t sure I liked.
“So what if I am? You two would’ve jumped at the chance of joining me if it wasn’t for Elena and Quinn.” I couldn’t help the note of bitterness that crept into my tone. Don’t get me wrong, I was genuinely happy for them. It was just more fun to do things with my friends, and I couldn’t exactly bring them with me now.
Knox cleared his throat. “Tristan. Say the word, and you know we’ll come with you. Elena and Quinn, too, if you’re worried about leaving us to our own devices while you go off and charm all the single women. Or we’ll come without them. I know for a fact our girls would understand. You’re our best mate. We’re not going to ditch you just because we’re in relationships.”
“Yeah. What he said.” Roman jerked his thumb in Knox’s direction. “We stick together, no matter what. End of discussion.”
I sighed. “Yeah. Thanks. I know. It’s just…” Rubbing my brow, I trailed off, unable to articulate my thoughts.
Why the fuck was I getting so melancholy about this, anyway? It wasn’t like I wanted what they had. My life was fucking perfect just the way it was.
“I think we need an extra lacrosse practice this week.” Taking mercy on me, Knox held up three fingers before bringing his hand down on the table with a smack. “Burford have won their last three games in a row, and we need to end their streak.”
Thank fuck for my mind-reading friends. I jumped on the change of subject with enthusiasm. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I’m gonna try Link on the other side and bring in Ty. They’ve got a strong left side, and I want to make sure our defence is solid.” Grabbing my phone from the table, I scrolled to my video folder. “That reminds me. I bribed one of the students to take this footage of their training session. Watch this.”
Roman laughed. “Bribed with money or with your dick?”
“My dick. Win-win for us both. I left her satisfied, she—okay, I was satisfied, too, and I got the footage, so I came out of it better off. But she gets bragging rights.”
“Don’t get caught with this on your phone,” Knox said, and I raised my brows. Since when had he become such a good little law-abiding citizen?
“It’s not illegal to film their practices. We could go there and watch them if we wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I think I’m still on edge after everything that happened with Ro. I don’t wanna get him into trouble.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” Roman assured him. “Quinn’s parents love me now. And I’m not going to do anything to jeopardise my relationship with her.”
Fuck. My friends had changed so much. At the beginning of the school year, they’d been like me. Eighteen, single, ready to make the most of our final year as the gods of Hatherley Hall. Now, it felt like they’d moved on, and I’d been left behind. I didn’t get it. I had everything I wanted. So why did they seem happier than me? I didn’t buy into all that shit that relationships completed you or whatever. Fuck knows, my uncle was permanently single, and he had a great life. I’d grown up listening to his stories, and he’d always been a bit of an idol to me, I guessed. He didn’t need anyone else in his life, and neither did I.
I drained the rest of my glass. “Want to order food? Or a round at the driving range?”
Roman stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “The driving range. Let’s make it a competition. The loser pays for lunch, preferably somewhere that isn’t here. Let’s go.”