20. Will
WILL
Inearly forget about Priestley being my rival, until we walk into the classroom and see that leaderboard up there with my name on the top and Priestley’s right underneath. It hits me again—the fact that only one of us can come out of this a winner.
Scott was right, in a way. We’re all leaving here winners in some capacity. All with Princeton grad degrees on our resumés. Doors that weren’t open before are about to be flung open. Plus, if I get this internship at RAM, it comes with a massive bonus, enough to pay off a chunk of my parents’ debt.
But Priestley’s right, too. The degree itself isn’t necessarily enough to guarantee success.
We won’t just be competing against people in this class when we graduate, but graduates from every other Ivy League school and prestigious business program.
And that’s just our graduating year. What about the years before that?
And the years after? Each academic year pumping out a steady stream of young and eager workers.
Priestley takes his seat to my right. I wonder if it’s still to piss me off. The way he’s eye-fucking me in my jeans tells me he at least tolerates me these days.
I try not to stare at his hands while he takes his notebook out and organizes his stationary on the desk. Try not to think about the way his fingers looked wrapped around my dick last night.
I’m only snapped out of it by Priestley’s voice as he answers one of Professor Moreno’s questions. I zero in on the lesson and put Priestley out of my mind for now.
“Library?” he asks as we’re leaving an hour later.
My instincts want to follow him, but I stop myself.
“I’ll catch up with you. There’s something I’ve got to do.”
He nods, like he doesn’t care either way. I tell myself he’s just putting on an act. I’ve seen past it. He’s good at it, really fucking good, but he doesn’t fool me, not anymore.
My head is all over the place. When I feel this way, there’s one person I want to talk to.
I hit call and hope she’s not busy.
When my ma answers on the second ring, I instantly feel better.
“Hey kiddo, how’s things?”
“Good, you at home?”
“Just peeling some apples. Thought I’d be domestic and make a pie.”
The smell of my ma’s freshly baked apple pie surfaces—cinnamon and warm pie crust.
“Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah, it’s good. Just wanted to check in.”
I ask her about the kids and Dad and work.
“How’s your friend, Priestley?” Ma asks when she’s finished telling me about the new kid in her class who’s having trouble fitting in.
“He’s good.”
She must hear something in my tone because she presses.
“I like him,” I admit.
She’s quiet for a second and my heart drops. “What? You don’t like him?”
“No, honey I was just suppressing my squeal. Didn’t want to be ‘cringe.’”
I snort. “When have I ever called you cringe?”
“Not you, those little devils you call siblings.” She laughs. “So, what’s the problem, hon? He seemed to like you back. He came all the way here with you, didn’t he? To sleep in a basement? Don’t tell me if he didn’t sleep in the basement, I don’t wanna know.”
“He slept in the basement, Ma.”
“Because you know I support you having a healthy sex life, so long as you use protection—”
I’ve been groaning to drown her out since she said the word sex.
“You’re so easy to rattle.”
“Ma.”
“Sorry.” The sound of chair legs scraping across tiles paints the picture of her getting up to pace around the house while we talk.
“You’re not gonna ruin the pie are you?”
“Don’t worry about the damn pie. Tell me about this boy.”
So I tell her—the PG version, obviously. Ma might be embarrassingly immune to the fact I’ve been having sex since I was a teenager, but she doesn’t need details.
“So you guys have been … spending time together … dating?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Kisses on Ferris wheels kind of seems like dating.”
“Yeah, it does.” I smile at the memory.
“So what’s the problem?”
My mood sours. “He’s my rival.”
Ma laughs.
“So what?”
“So … how am I supposed to date someone who wants to take me down? Or be happy for him if he succeeds in taking me down?”
“It’s just a stupid leaderboard. Who cares?”
I’m tongue-tied for a second. How do I articulate how important this is? “Ma, whoever’s top of this leaderboard will get an internship with the most prestigious asset management company in New York.”
“And?”
“And …” I splutter. “I want that internship.”
She sighs. “There’ll be other internships, for both of you. I’m sure whoever wins it will be happy for the other.”
I consider this for a second. Will I really be happy for Priestley if he beats me in the leaderboard and I have to go and find an internship somewhere else?
I think about the way his dad spoke to him at dinner. The responsibility he feels toward his little brother. How uptight he is, and how good it feels to watch him slowly relax.
“This internship comes with a financial bonus, Ma.”
“So?”
“So—” I don’t have to finish the sentence, Ma realizes what I’m thinking and cuts me off.
“We’re fine. I don’t want you worrying about us. How many times do I have to tell you?”
I sigh, run a hand over my stubbled chin. People warned me grad school would do a number on me, but I wasn’t fully prepared for this. The fatigue is really starting to take over.
“Will, are you listening?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Be honest with yourself. If you take some stupid cash bonus out of the equation, would you be happy for Priestley if he got the internship?”
“I guess so. Yeah, I’d be happy for him,” I admit.
The thing is, I don’t think Priestley will be happy for me.
The thought still has me in its clutches when I meet him at the library. He’s set up on one of the long tables with his books spread out in front of him.
I took what I needed from that book he finally gave me before returning it so someone else could use it. That didn’t even cross Priestley’s mind, did it?
He looks up at me, the slightest of smiles ghosting his lips before he smothers it.
I’m such a sucker for this guy. Maybe I’m the patron saint of lost causes or something, because no matter how much I force myself to focus on his bad qualities, all he has to do is show me the slightest hint that there’s a heart in there and I’m falling over myself to prove it.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I just got off the phone to my ma.”
“Oh?” He puts his head down and looks at something on his laptop. “How is everyone?”
That shouldn’t warm me as much as it does.
“Fine. She was asking about you.”
He can’t hide the pleasure before he pushes it down. “Oh? That’s nice.”
She wants to know when you’re coming back to Boston, I almost say, but stop myself. I don’t think I could deal with rejection right now.
Instead, we get down to studying. Mostly in companiable silence, though we talk a little, too. I try not to get distracted by the way his dark lashes fan over his eyelids. The neat arch of his black eyebrows. The slightly bowed shape of his top lip.
Priestley Rosenthal is seriously gorgeous, and despite all that attitude, I’m not even sure he knows it.
We head to the parking lot when we’re finished and I automatically climb into Priestley’s car.
“Want to go to the diner?” he asks.
“How about we go back to your place and order pizza after?”
He blinks a little slower, like he’s trying to hold something in, before nodding coolly. “Sounds good."
I love kissing him. The second we get into the apartment, I press him against the door and put my hands on his face. I kiss him until he puts his hands under my shirt and starts stroking my back before moving around to get a good feel of my chest and stomach.
My cock’s aching to get out of these jeans, but Priestley holds me in place so all I can do is grind against him.
He moans into my mouth and I lick his lips, tracing that bow shape with my tongue.
His breath hitches as I sink down to my knees. When I look up, he’s watching me, hand buried in my hair.
I brush my nose against his pants and run my hands up and down his thighs. He groans and throws his head back.
“God,” he gasps.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes.”
I smile to myself while I undo his chinos, freeing him from his underwear before licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.
He lets out an unrestrained moan and I have to press the heel of my palm against my dick to get some relief.
He shudders the second I wrap my lips around the head, bucking slightly. I grip his hips to hold him in place while I get settled, and when I am, I let go—let him thrust, slow and deep into my mouth, moaning around him while he drips precum onto my tongue.
I have to free myself and wrap my hand around my cock while I suck him. Both of his hands are gripping the back of my head now, using me to get himself off.
I fucking love giving someone pleasure like this. Love giving him pleasure. There’s no better feeling than knowing I’m making him feel good.
Another pearl of precum smears across my tongue and he starts to throb in my mouth. I get ready to take his load, but he stops thrusting and pulls out.
His hair’s a mess when he looks down at me, like he was running his hands through it before parking them on the back of my head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“God, you look …”
I don’t have to ask. I know what I look like. I’ve seen how good guys look after they suck your dick. Lips swollen, glassy, lust-drunk eyes, hair all fucked up.
He steps out of his pants and shoes before taking his shirt off.
I can definitely get behind him being naked.
“Now you.”
I do as I’m told, letting Priestley walk us back to the couch before dropping down onto it with him between my legs.
He kneels in front of me on the floor and starts teasing up my thighs with licks and little nips of his teeth until I’m arching my back and burying my hand in his hair.
He watches me with a goading look in his eye as he licks the tip, making my eyes roll.
“William,” he whispers. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
I groan. “Please, Rosie, just do it.”
He chuckles. “Hmm. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”