He shrugs completely unrepentant.“You fell short of the requirements.”
“Bullshit.”I slam my glass down hard enough to rattle the bar.“I exceeded every single requirement.You know it, I know it, and Henderson knew it.”
“Then why didn’t you get it?”He crosses his arms, but there’s no guilt in his expression—just matter-of-fact confidence.
“Because you had connections.”My voice turns bitter.“Daddy’s money talked, didn’t it?A nice donation to the business school, maybe?Or just the right phone calls to the right people?”
His jaw clenches.“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”I shuffle closer. “You think I didn’t notice how you suddenly became Professor Williams’s favorite?How your projects always got the extensions mine never did?”
“That’s not?—”
“Face it, Caleb.You played dirty, and we both know it.”The whiskey makes me reckless, makes me push when I should pull back.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Blame my family’s money when you can’t handle losing.”When he looks at me, there’s real frustration there.“You want to know why I got the Morrison internship?My GPA was higher than yours, and my campaign presentation was better.That’s it.”
The words hit like a slap.“My project was flawless?—”
“Your project was brilliant,” he cuts me off.“But your presentation was rough.You were reading from handwritten notes while everyone else had PowerPoints.”
My chest tightens because he’s right, and I hate him for it.“My presentation covered everything it needed to.”
“I’m not saying it didn’t.But presentation matters, and mine was more polished.”His voice is pointed, not cruel.
“My laptop died two days before the presentation.”The words come out tightly.“I had to choose between getting it fixed or paying rent that month.”
His expression shifts, surprise crossing his features.“Eve?—”
“You can say I always bring up your money, but that’s because you never had to worry about anything.”I drain my glass, the whiskey burning all the way down.“I was working three jobs while studying.So, yes, money was a factor.It’s always been a factor.”
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.
I shrug.“I never advertised it.”
The silence stretches between us, and then he says quietly, “I knew you were working, but I didn’t know it was three jobs.”He runs a hand through his hair.“You know what’s fucked up?The way you looked down on me like I was some spoiled rich-boy coasting through life.It pissed me off so much that it drove me to work harder.I wanted to prove you wrong.”
I focus on my drink, not wanting to meet his eyes.“Well, whatever.It’s done and over with.I told myself I’d become everything my mother never wanted me to be, and I did it.So here’s to that.”
I pour myself another glass from the bottle Caleb just ordered, and take a gulp.I’m starting to get used to the taste.When I look up, Caleb is watching me with something unreadable in his eyes.I clear my throat, needing to move away from this topic.
“So what happened with Marina?”The question slips out before I can stop it, and I immediately want to take it back.But the whiskey has made me curious.
His expression closes off again.“It was a few years ago.We were together for a few months.She wanted commitment.”
“And you didn’t.”It’s not a question.
“I don’t do commitment.”He tries to act as if it’s no big deal, but there’s something defensive in his posture.“Never have.”
“Right.Because that would require actually caring about someone other than yourself.”The words come out nasty, fueled by old anger and alcohol.
“Careful, Princess.”His voice carries a warning edge.“You’re starting to sound jealous.”
“Jealous?”I laugh, loud and sharp.“Of what?Your commitment issues?Your inability to maintain a relationship for longer than a season?”
