Chapter 5
Hudson was dressed like he had come from the party: loose black jeans and a slate-gray crewneck sweater, black high-tops, and a Natty Ice.
It was the kind of frat boy beverage she would have thought was beneath him, but then again, she would have thought that crime novels were beneath him, that romances were beneath him, that bell hooks’s film criticism was beneath him…
If she hadn’t held the evidence of a book read over and over, full of written notes and taped edges, she might have still thought that.
The callous, condescending reality of him usually shattered whatever soft illusion she pieced together in his absence.
“The door was open,” Ellory said. “I’d hardly call it breaking in.”
“There was a rope blocking off the second floor.”
“Has that literally ever worked?”
His lips twitched like he wanted to smile. “No.”
“Well, you can blame Liam Blackwood. He said I could use the upstairs bathroom.”
“This isn’t a bathroom.” Hudson’s eyes fell to the book at her feet. An expression bolted across his face, there and gone too quickly to read. “But you seem to have made yourself comfortable.”
“I love this book,” she gushed as she retrieved it.
“I love bell hooks, but this book—” It took all she had to stop herself from being vulnerable in front of someone who had consistently preyed on her weaknesses.
He was staring at the battered paperback, a frown heavy on his face.
Ellory had the sudden strange feeling that she was the one who had caught him in a weak moment, but that was ridiculous.
“I mean, when she talked about Tarzan as a white savior fantasy…”
It was a test, one she didn’t feel good about but needed him to pass.
She thought she knew his handwriting as well as she knew her own by now, but this could be someone else’s copy.
Liam’s, perhaps, or maybe a paramour had left it behind.
Maybe it had come with the room, and he’d simply been inspired to create a great wall of other books around it.
“I thought she stretched the white-daddy metaphor a little too far in that chapter, but yeah.” Hudson stepped farther into the room.
“She made really interesting points about the way society—and we ourselves—view Black and white masculinity, and how it’s further colored by an unfair portrayal across film and television. ”
“What, did your film and media studies major fall through so you had to settle for poli-sci?”
“Hilarious.” Hudson joined her at the desk, setting his can of Natural Ice on the only free area he could find. The stacks around it wobbled but ultimately remained standing. “I actually want to be a lawyer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have other interests.”
“Like”—she nudged a book on top of a nearby pile with her free hand—“Nora Roberts?”
“Did you go through my closet, too? Should I call the campus police?”
“We’re not on campus.”
“They like me more than you do.”
“Complete strangers on the street like you more than I do. An anthill you’d smash likes you more than I do. A baby you’d kick likes—”
“Your point has been assiduously made, thank you.”
Her mouth moved before her brain signed off on it. “Why do you always talk like you swallowed a textbook?”
Familiarity shivered through her. The words, the almost-playful way in which they’d come out…it felt old, common, routine, and yet this was the longest conversation they’d had in the four weeks since she’d started at Warren. Wasn’t it?
“Hey,” Ellory murmured. “Do you ever feel like…? Have we had this discussion before?”
“About bell hooks or about my elocution?”
“Okay, Encyclopedia Brown.” That nickname. It felt unnaturally natural, even though she’d never used it before. “Seriously, have we…?”
“I have no idea what you’re asking me, Morgan,” Hudson deadpanned. “You’ll have to use your words.”
Ellory realized for the first time that the space between them had disappeared.
Hudson leaned against the desk, gazing at her like he was searching for something.
She clutched Reel to Real between them, but that was all that was between them.
If she breathed too deeply, her knuckles would brush his sweater.
Their height difference had evaporated, thanks to her heels.
When she didn’t have to tilt her head to meet his eyes, they felt more equal.
It startled her, how intense the brown of them was from so close.
Strong and earthy, deep and dark. The kind of brown that buried people alive.
The kind they wanted to be buried in.
“Morgan,” he said, and it sounded louder than usual. The distant sounds of the party trickled in slowly, a light drizzle too insubstantial to register. “What exactly are you doing in my room? Even with the door open, you couldn’t possibly have seen that book from the hallway.”
Ellory sighed, setting bell hooks back on the desk.
She cleaned imaginary dust from the cover to buy herself some time.
There was nowhere to sit but the bed, and she refused to sit on the bed.
Bass rattled the carpet beneath their feet.
Cheers filtered in from the backyard. The conversation she’d fled echoed in her ears all the same, shriller now thanks to his reminder.
“I got tired of the party,” she said. “It’s a party, but all anyone wants to talk about is homework.”
“Talking about homework isn’t your idea of fun?”
“I actually want to be a lawyer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have other interests,” she parroted back at him, eyebrows raised.
Hudson made a noise she chose to believe was a chuckle, though it was more breath than sound. “Do you want to be a lawyer?”
Her pulse skipped. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”
“Not everyone has the passion. And there are plenty of things you can do with a degree in political science besides taking the bar—”
“I want to be a lawyer.” It came out like a bark, too quick and defensive to be believed.
Ellory realized her shoulders had inched up toward her ears and forced herself to relax.
“You don’t know me, Graves. If you’re trying to intimidate me away from law because you know I’ll be better at it than you, it’s not going to work. And, quite frankly, it’s beneath you.”
Hudson’s expression was carefully blank.
Ellory almost wanted to take the words back, but she was tired of doubting herself.
She didn’t need to hear her midnight thoughts from his sneering mouth.
It didn’t matter what she wanted. She had her family to think about, their sacrifices to get her here.
Everything else—this conversation and this party, her hallucinations and this unrelenting sense of déjà vu—was a distraction.
And, unlike Hudson, she could not afford distraction.
“Have you heard of Professor Colt?”
Of all the things Hudson could have said next, Ellory had not expected that.
Preston Colt was one of Warren University’s most prestigious instructors; he taught political theory to the upperclassmen, but he had also written several award-winning books and been on almost every talk show.
Finding out that he taught here had eased the last of Aunt Carol’s concerns about the impromptu scholarship offer.
If Ellory could walk the same halls as Preston Colt, it was worth ignoring a few red flags.
“He hosts a monthly salon at his house,” Hudson continued when she didn’t answer. “It’s a select group, but we’re each allowed a guest. I’ve never taken advantage of that particular clause, but…how would you like to be mine for the one in October?”
“What?” Ellory blinked. “Why me?”
“I—”
“There you are.” Tai appeared, beaming, her eyes bright with obvious drunkenness.
She wore a colorful medal that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be several beer-bottle caps welded together.
Her car keys dangled from a finger. “You need to drive us home, because I am fuuuuuuucked upppppp.” Her grin dimmed into more of a puzzled curve. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Ellory said quickly. “Of course not. Are you ready to go now?”
“Are you?”
Ellory glanced at Hudson. He was still leaning against the desk, but now he was staring out the window as if to let them have some privacy.
If Hudson had been about to give her an explanation less shocking than the initial invitation, the moment had clearly passed.
She wasn’t sure there was an explanation less shocking than the initial invitation.
She was afraid that if she lingered, he would realize the absurdity of extending her this opportunity and snatch it back.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m ready.” And then, to him: “I’ll go. But if this is some sort of prank—”
“I’ll text you the details. Give me your phone.”
Ellory held out her hand. With another puff of amusement, Hudson handed his over.
His background was blank, factory settings, but when she inputted her number, sent herself a text, and closed it up, she saw that his lock screen was Luke Fox in the Batwing suit.
She didn’t comment, even though she desperately wanted to smile.
“All right, Flip Cup Queen,” she said, stepping forward so Tai could throw an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you back to Moneta without your residents seeing.”
“I’m an adult,” Tai sniffed. “Please don’t let me puke in my car. I just cleaned it.”
“I’ll pull over.”
Ellory could feel the prickling weight of Hudson’s gaze as she shuffle-dragged Tai to the stairs, but she forced herself not to look back.
***