“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ethan said. Sadly, he was so hungover and hurt from Greg and Jessica, he couldn’t enjoy the news.
Preston shrugged. “It just wasn’t working out.”
“Sometimes it’s better to know that now and end things upfront rather than drag it out. You think you’re sparing someone’s feelings, but people get hurt much worse when you drag it out.” Ethan knew this all too well and gulped back a lump of heartache.
“That’s a good point. You’re very wise, Ethan.”
“Or so I’ve been told.”
They shared a moment when their eyes did all the talking. For Ethan, the silence was ten times scarier than any awkward conversation he’d tried to initiate with Preston. His body rumbled with conflicted feelings and emotions—
And vomit.
Actually, it was just vomit.
“Will you excuse me?” Ethan asked, kneeling over the toilet.
Preston got the hint and closed the stall door on his way out.
Φ
Ethan’s nausea returned on Tuesday, but no alcohol was involved. He stood on the bottom step of Bamberger Hall. He could avoid Greg, but he couldn’t avoid Con Law.
He couldn’t bear sitting next to Greg, not after everything that had happened. It would be torture to look at that face and know that Greg didn’t want to be with him.
He steeled himself as he reached the lecture hall. Instead of going to his regular seat, he stood against the opposite wall, using every fiber of willpower not to glance at Greg. Professor Sharpe had more energy than usual today. He bounced around the stage and asked questions to students.At least somebody had a good weekend.
His usual section of front row suck-ups provided all the answers. Ethan squatted on the floor and did his best to take notes without toppling over. His old self would be so ashamed of him right now, slumming it on the floor in a class he wanted. What happened to Ethan the good student? Or is he now Party Ethan? Or still Nerdy Ethan? He had trouble juggling all the versions of himself he was trying to be.
“Now, when was the first, last, and only time we repealed an amendment from the Constitution?”
“1933. Prohibition.”
That was Greg’s voice.In the front row?Ethan stood up and scanned the suck-up section.
“Very good, Greg,” Professor Sharpe said.
Greg, in the front row, wearing a button-down shirt and khakis, beamed with pride. An older man sat next to him in a full suit and patted his shoulder.
What. The. Hell.
“Everyone, we have a special guest in class today,” Professor Sharpe said and pointed at the man in the full suit. “This is Justice Warren Sanderson, Fifth Circuit Court of Virginia.”
Ethan had to blink twice to fully digest what he’d heard. Greg, the Greg Sanderson who could care less about law, had a federal judge for a father. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time, and like any good aspiring lawyer, Ethan had to dig deeper.
Φ
Justice Sanderson, Greg, and Professor Sharpe stood around bullshitting after class. Ethan waited in the hall and eavesdropped as best he could. He wondered if he would ever reach a high enough status to have a friendly chat with a judge or an esteemed lawyer. Greg nodded and smiled and played along, but he probably could care less. Life’s best gifts were spoiled on the wrong people.
Ethan played it cool, pretending to check his notes, while Greg and his dad left the lecture hall.
“Hey,” Ethan said, acting pleasantly surprised to bump into Greg. Panic flickered in Greg’s eyes. He had never seen him this nervous, and he enjoyed having the upper hand for a brief moment. “I didn’t know your dad was sitting in on class. I’m Ethan Follett, a friend of Greg’s.” He caught Greg holding in a breath at the word “friend.” “It’s nice to meet you.”
Justice Sanderson gripped his hand in a firm shake. Ethan felt seriously underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. He wondered if Greg’s dad knew his son usually wore warm-up pants.
“Nice to meet you.” Justice Sanderson wore thick glasses and a serious expression that seemed like a perpetual scowl. “So how do you know Gregory?”
Ethan stifled a laugh.Gregory.If only he knew.
