15. Will
WILL
We manage to get into a routine that suits the group.
Our sniping takes a backseat for the good of the project.
And if I’m honest, those flames of anger have been dampened by Priestley’s reaction to me kissing him.
Obviously, I’m not mad at the guy for turning me down.
It’s his choice, it doesn’t matter what his reasoning for that is.
It was the mind game accusations that really pissed me off.
If Priestley knew me at all he’d know I don’t play mind games and I hate that shit.
I put it out of my head for the project and we stay focused. I talk to my family every day on the phone and remind myself that they’re okay without me. I listen to my parents’ encouragement and try to push down how much I miss them.
I’m sure people have noticed the truce. Professor Moreno looks at us sometimes like she’s wondering what the story is.
Priestley relaxes after I let him take the lead. It all just seems to slot into place, but something tells me we’re in the calm before the storm.
We’re the last two in the group when we come out of the library and run into a man in an expensive-looking suit. Priestley’s whole demeanor changes instantly. He stiffens, squaring his shoulders as if getting ready for a fight. When he speaks, his voice is clipped and his tone colder than usual.
“Hello, Father,” he says. Father? That’s how he greets his dad?
“Priestley,” his dad nods. They shake hands. They shake hands? No hug?
“I thought I might find you here,” Priestley’s dad says, straightening his tie. “I met an old fraternity brother for coffee. Thought I’d come and check how things are going with your classes.”
I watch Priestley as he speaks to his dad. He looks like he’s being tested. His eye is about one second away from twitching. What’s he so scared of?
“Have you had lunch?” Priestley’s dad asks. He glances at me before quickly looking away again. “Your friend can come along, if he likes.”
“Oh.” I’m about to say thanks but no thanks when a warning glance from Priestley makes me change my mind.
Shit, this is Edward Rosenthal. This guy will be my boss if I win the internship.
“Thank you, sir.”
He nods before heading off toward his car.
Fuck, I am not prepared for this. I remind myself how hard I’ve worked up to this point. There’s no reason why I can’t be prepared for a lunch with this guy. It’s not like it’s gonna turn into an impromptu job interview, right?
I’m just glad I didn’t wear sweatpants to the library. Actually, I haven’t worn sweatpants to the library since that day Priestley chewed me out over them. He must have been a pretty effective fraternity president if he managed to influence me without my even realizing it.
The lunch place Edward Rosenthal takes us to is just one step down from a fancy Michelin star restaurant.
I definitely stand out. No wonder Priestley dresses like he expects something like this to happen at every second, always in a stuffy blazer, button-down shirt and carefully pressed pants.
He never wears sneakers except for that day on the tennis court.
I’m wearing fucking Converse with my jeans, but despite a few quick glances, no one pays too much attention to me.
We’re shown to a table by a waitress who seems to recognize Priestley and his dad. They’re given the VIP treatment: chairs pulled out, drinks poured, waiters fussing over us from the second we sit down.
I don’t recognize anything on the menu. It’s in English—I think—I’ve just never seen the meals written on it.
I order whatever Priestley’s having and hope it’s not something weird only rich people eat—like the placentas of some endangered animal.
Priestley’s dad clears his throat. They haven’t looked at each other since the moment they met outside the library. The car ride was awkward as fuck as I sat in the back and tried not to drown in their silence.
“So, how’s school?” he asks.
Priestley is sipping his water. He puts the glass down with a practiced movement. His hands look so delicate on the tablecloth. The way he’s smoothing down the fabric looks like a soothing gesture. The way I rub behind the dog’s ears when I’m stressed.
“It’s good, thank you.”
“You two are partners?”
I almost spit my water back in my glass. Priestley answers while I recover.
“We’re in a group together, yes.”
“Minerva not giving you too much trouble?”
Minerva? Oh, Professor Moreno. For some reason, I don’t like hearing this guy use her first name. He says it with a hint of amusement. As if she’s amusing.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Priestley answers.
“Good,” his dad says. “I trust your group will come out on top.”
When I look at Priestley, he has this faraway look in his eyes as he stares into the tablecloth.
It doesn’t even have a pattern, so I’m not sure what he’s staring at.
It’s like he’s just going somewhere else.
A cold sweat prickles the back of my neck and I try to think of something to say to fill the silence.
But then a waiter comes over with our food.
I’m sure it tastes incredible, but I don’t notice. The atmosphere kind of stinks too much for me to enjoy it.
Priestley’s dad leaves the table a few times to take a phone call. The next time he comes back, he tells Priestley that his grandmother sends her regards.
Her ‘regards?’ What the fuck?
“Thank you,” Priestley says.
“And how is Jamie getting on at Alpha Sig?”
“Good, I think.”
“You think? You haven’t been over to check on him?”
“I haven’t had time, not with the project and—”
“Priestley,” his dad cuts him off. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. Priestley stiffens like he’s just been slapped, his cutlery pausing over his food.
“While you’re at school, your brother is your responsibility.
There are no excuses for slacking on your responsibilities.
Who are excuses for?” The man speaks so calmly, never pausing as he cuts up his own food, you wouldn’t believe he was admonishing his son.
The tone only makes it scarier though. My dad hasn’t had to chew me out for years, but at least when he did, there was emotion in it.
Priestley sets his jaw before answering. “Excuses are for lazy people.”
My blood runs cold. I can’t look at them. I pretend to be eating, pretend I can’t hear.
“And what are we not?”
“Lazy, sir.”
“That’s right.” Mr. Rosenthal cuts into his steak with gusto as he speaks. “You’ll go and check on your brother and make sure he’s fitting in at the fraternity. Make sure he isn’t involved in anything … untoward.”
“Yes, sir.”
I’m so relieved when the meal’s over and we leave Priestley’s dad, I have to take a deep gulp of fresh air.
“Fuck, Priestley, that was—”
He cuts me off. “I’d better get back and do some work.”
He isn’t looking at me. He’s got the coldness dialed up to a million.
“Hey, Rosie, you okay?”
He tenses his jaw. “Fine.”
I touch his elbow, wanting to add some semblance of warmth into the situation, but he flinches.
“Priestley, your dad is—”
His eyes are ablaze when he fixes me in his glare. “My father is what? Your possible future employer? What would you like to say about him, huh?”
My nostrils flare. Why am I hurt that he’s being an asshole to me right now? Hasn’t he always been an asshole?
“Nothing. I’ll see you for the group thing.”