Chapter 16
ETHAN
Friday afternoon, Piper and I are sprawled on the quad, supposedly studying but actually strategizing about tomorrow's party.
She's lying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air while she scrolls through costume ideas on her phone, and I'm trying not to stare at the way the sunlight catches in her hair.
“What about tin foil?” she asks. “Very reflective. Very spacecraft.”
“Very likely to tear the second someone hugs you,” I point out. “And there will be hugging. Drunk people love hugging.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Good point. What about—”
“Pipes?”
The male voice makes her whole body go rigid. I look up to see a guy in an expensive suit walking toward us, phone in one hand, irritation clear on his face. He's wearing—I shit you not—a cap that says “Goldman Sachs Intern 2022”.
“Jackson?” Piper scrambles to sitting, grass stains on her knees, looking suddenly young. “What are you doing here?”
“Brad's playing in the game tomorrow. Came up to watch.” He doesn't sit, just stands there looking down at us like we're contaminating his shoes. “Mom said you were probably in the library.”
“I... I didn't know you were coming to campus.”
“Why would you?” He finally notices me. “Who's this?”
“Ethan.” I stand, extending my hand. He shakes it with that too-firm grip guys use when they're trying to establish dominance. “You must be Piper's brother.”
“Guilty.” His smile is all teeth, no warmth. “You two studying?” The way he says it suggests he finds the idea of his sister having a study partner hilarious.
“Actually, we're planning for a party tomorrow,” Piper says, and immediately looks like she regrets it.
Jackson laughs. “You? At a party? What, is it hosted by the computer science department? Pin the tail on the algorithm?”
“It's a house party,” I say, edge creeping into my voice. “My house, actually.”
His eyebrows rise, reassessing me. “You're throwing a party? What are you, like a frat guy or something?”
“No frat. Just friends.”
“Right.” He looks me up and down again. “You play football? You've got that whole”—he gestures vaguely at my shoulders—“athlete thing going on.”
“Used to.” I keep my voice neutral, but Piper's hand brushes quickly against mine in silent support.
“Used to?” Jackson perks up like a shark smelling blood. “What happened, couldn't cut it at college level? I get it, man. High school star to college benchwarmer—tale as old as time.”
“Injury,” I say flatly.
“Ah, the easy out.” He adjusts his Goldman Sachs cap like it's a crown. “I played lacrosse at Princeton. No excuses there—you either perform or you don't.”
“Impressive, bro.” I keep my voice completely neutral. Piper makes a small choking sound beside me.
“Right?” He doesn't pick up on the sarcasm at all. “Anyway, don't let her drink too much at this party. Remember that one Thanksgiving, Pipes? When you threw up after one beer?”
Piper's face goes red. “I had food poisoning—”
“Sure, you did.” He checks his phone, then grins. “Shit, Brad just texted. They're doing this thing where they're making pledges wrestle in baby oil. Classic.” He looks up at us. “You ever do that stuff, man?”
“Not really my scene.”
“Yeah, you seem more...” he waves vaguely at me, “low-key. Probably for the best. Pipes here wouldn't know what to do at a real rager.”
The casual dismissal makes my jaw clench. Piper shrinks a little more beside me.
Jesus Christ, I think, watching her fold into herself. Growing up with this must have been brutal. My dad rides my ass about football and career choices, sure, but at least he sees me. Jackson looks at his sister like she's furniture—something you only notice when it's in your way.
Jackson's phone buzzes again. “Fuck, they're starting without me.” He looks between us one more time, and his smirk returns. “So wait—is this actually a thing? You two?”
“We're—” Piper starts.
“Because honestly, good for you, Pipes. Finally. Mom was starting to worry you were, you know...” He makes a vague gesture that could mean anything from gay to serial killer. “Anyway, this is good. Normal. She'll be thrilled.”
“I'm not dating someone for Mom's approval—”
“Hey, no judgment. Whatever works.” He claps me on the shoulder with unnecessary force. “Just make sure she doesn't get too intense about it. She tends to fixate.”
He's already walking away, phone to his ear. “Brad! Yeah, I'm coming. Save me one of the freshman...” His voice fades as he disappears across the quad.
Piper stares after him, shoulders hunched. “I'm sorry about him.”
“Your brother's an asshole.”
And if he's the golden child, I think, what does that say about her parents? The way he casually mentioned their mom's “worry” about Piper being abnormal, like having a daughter who focuses on school is some shameful family secret.
No wonder she accepts crumbs from people like Miles—she's been trained her whole life to be grateful for any attention at all.
“Hey.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “You okay?”
“He didn't even tell me he was coming.” Her voice is small. “I'm his sister and I found out by accident. He's probably been planning this for weeks.”
“Maybe he forgot?”
She laughs, but it's hollow. “Jackson doesn't forget. He just... doesn't think about me unless he has to. None of them do, really. My parents only get interested when I do something normal. Like date someone.”
“Normal?”
“You know. Not sitting in my room coding.” She glances at me. “When they find out about tomorrow, about me going to a real party with a real guy, my mom will probably cry with joy.”
The matter-of-fact way she says it breaks my heart. Like she's accepted that her actual achievements—getting into Jenkins' lab, building a revolutionary app—mean nothing compared to being “normal”.
My dad might not understand my choices, but at least he knows what I'm working toward matters to me. Piper's family doesn't even see her work as real.
“Well, good thing I'm exceptionally bragworthy.” I strike a pose, trying to make her smile. “Star student, devastatingly handsome, plant father extraordinaire.”
“Please. You're barely house-trained.”
“I'm very house-trained! I almost never pee on the carpet anymore.”
That gets a real laugh. “You're ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously perfect for making your parents happy.” I lean back on my elbows. “Think about it—I'm tall, I play sports—”
“Played.”
“Whatever. I'm conventionally attractive, I have all my teeth. I can make small talk about the weather. I'm basically son-in-law material.”
“You're basically delusional.” But she's smiling now. “My parents would take one look at you and know you're way out of my league.”
I sit up sharply. “Hey. No. Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you make yourself smaller.
Your brother's an ass, but that doesn't mean you're less than him.” I turn to face her properly.
“You're brilliant. You're funny when you let yourself be.
You're building something that could help thousands of people.
If your parents can't see that, that's their failing, not yours.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “You really believe that.”
“I really do.” I nudge her foot with mine. “Plus, you're definitely the hottest sibling in the family. Your brother looks pretty generic, no offense.”
She snort-laughs. “That's mean.”
“That's accurate. Probably has a favorite golf polo and everything.”
“Three, actually. He color-coordinates them with his belts.”
“See? Undateable. You, on the other hand, are highly dateable. Well, fake-dateable. Tomorrow, at least.”
Something flickers across her face. “Right. Fake.”