Chapter 10
ALFIE
The house is quiet when I get back. No sign of Ethan. Thank fuck. I’m not in the mood for his energy right now. I love the guy to bits but he can be…a lot.
It also means I won’t have to explain why I look like I’m about to put my fist through a wall. Three days. Three fucking days until my family arrives expecting to meet my girlfriend - this perfect woman who’ll convince the trustees I’m settling into the proper Spencer mold.
And if I can’t produce her? Mother made it crystal clear this afternoon; she’ll pull funding for the entire Astrogeology department.
Fifteen projects. Dozens of students. Professor Hammond’s entire summer research program.
All of it gone because I couldn’t play my part in the Spencer family theatre.
Then there’s Tara’s offer to pretend to be my girlfriend.
Tara, who makes me forget how to think straight when she’s around.
Who somehow gets me talking about things I’ve never told anyone.
Who I’ve been trying desperately to keep at arm’s length because every time I’m near her, I find myself wanting to close that distance.
I find myself teasing her, flirting with her, wanting to know more.
Taking her up on this would be playing with fire. But what choice do I have?
Freddie’s in the kitchen, meal prepping. He and Troy take the gym very seriously. He takes one look at my face and raises an eyebrow. “You look like shit.”
Well, there goes my hope of not explaining things.
“Thanks.”
“Rough day of community service? I can’t believe you’re doing this shit twice a week.”
I grab a drink from the fridge, buying time. “Tara offered to be my fake girlfriend.”
I might as well talk it out. Maybe everyone else is right and this shit does help you.
The container of chicken breast Freddie’s measuring hits the counter with a thud. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.”
“Don’t.”
“This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I hate you.”
“No, really.” He’s full-on beaming now. “This is like, peak romantic comedy material. Fake dating? With Tara? The girl you’ve been—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll walk out the room.”
He holds up his hands in surrender, but he’s still grinning like an idiot. “What did you say?”
“That I’d think about it.”
“You’re actually considering it?” The amusement fades from his face. “Seriously?”
I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t have many options here.”
“Since when do you need a girlfriend?”
“It’s complicated. My family is visiting.”
Freddie starts packing his chicken into containers, thinking. “And Tara’s just... cool with this?”
“She said she could handle it.” I remember the determined set of her jaw, the way she’d looked at me like it was all just some fun game. “Said she’s dealt with worse.”
“Right.” Freddie’s eyes narrow. “You know Troy’s going to lose his shit when he finds out.”
Fuck. I hadn’t even thought about that part. How had I forgotten that? Tara’s brother might literally kill me if he finds out, he’s very protective over who dates his little sister, and has made it very clear that none of us “clowns” are good enough for her.
“We wouldn’t actually be dating.”
“You think that distinction matters to Troy?” He starts wiping down the counter. “Remember when that senior asked about her last year? Pretty sure the guy’s still in therapy.”
He’s right. Troy’s protective streak when it comes to Tara is intense.
“Besides,” Freddie adds, “you really think you could pull it off? Pretending with Tara?”
Something in his tone makes me look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” But he’s got that knowing look that makes me want to throw something at him. “Just that fake dating usually works better when you’re not actually—”
“Shut up.”
“Right.” He holds up his hands again.
“I’m going out.”
“Where to?”
“Out.” I slam the door behind me.
The BMW M4 purrs to life - it was a gift from my Gran. You could argue it’s too flashy for a student, but even I have to admit I love the way she purrs. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a nice car. And this baby? She is beautiful.
At least I’m not like Drake with his collection - the guy’s got four cars, one for summer, one for winter, one for “special occasions,” and then what he calls his “fun car.”
Campus is quiet this time of night, street lamps casting long shadows across empty sidewalks.
I drive without thinking, muscle memory taking me down familiar roads until the buildings thin out and the stars become visible through my windshield.
The car responds to every slight touch, hugging the curves perfectly.
Okay, fine, maybe Gran knew exactly what she was doing when she insisted I take it.
My phone buzzes. Kinsey’s name lights up the screen. Of course, she’s still in the lab—she makes my workaholic tendencies look amateur.
“What’s wrong?” I answer, because Kinsey doesn’t call unless something’s wrong.
“The microchemical analysis from the calcium samples is showing some really bizarre patterns.” Her voice has a tight quality. “Like, really bizarre. You need to see this.”
I check the time. 9:27 PM. “Can it wait until morning?”
“The cores are degrading faster than we predicted. If we don’t document this now...” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.
These samples are everything - months of work, the cornerstone of my CalTech application, Professor Hammond’s reputation. If something’s gone wrong...
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“You’re the best. I’ve already started recalibrating the XRF.”
I pull a U-turn, the M4’s tires gripping the road with perfect precision.
Thoughts of Tara and fake dating are temporarily displaced by images of contaminated samples and ruined data.
The geology building will be quiet this time of night.
Just me and Kinsey and whatever strange patterns our mineral formations are showing.
Simple. Uncomplicated.
Unlike everything else in my life right now.