"You're not terrible at this," Alex comments as I secure the last bracket.
"High praise."
"For me? Yeah, it is." They test the shelf with their hand. "Most people who come here to volunteer want something. To feel good about themselves, to put it on a resume, or impress someone." They shoot me a pointed look. "But you're trying to help."
"The shelves were loose. I know how to fix that now that Jaren is my roommate."
"Not the shelves. The contractor and the supplies. That was you, right?"
Their question hangs in the air. Finally, I nod.
"Thought so. James wouldn't stop asking Marcus who sent them, and Marcus kept being all mysterious." They grin. "It's kind of cool. Much better than those lame stunts your friends were pulling."
Mid-sentence about the new rainbow LED lights being put up in the common room, Alex whispers, "Three o'clock. Don't be obvious."
It's hard to glance over casually, but I manage, and then I see it. James is looking at me, an unreadable expression on his face. He quickly turns away when our eyes meet.
As we're packing up for the day, Marcus approaches me.
"The kids appreciated you working with them," he says simply. "You're good with them."
"They're good kids."
He nods, studying me. "James doesn't let people in easily. He has his reasons."
"I know. I messed up."
"Yes, you did." His voice isn't unkind, just matter-of-fact. "But he's miserable without you, even if he won't admit it."
Before I can say anything back, he walks away, and I think I know what I need to do now.
On my way to the car, I take out my phone and type out a text, not to James, but to my father:
We need to talk. In person. Will you be in town for the Coastal Conservation Gala on the 15th?
My heart races as I hit send, but there's no going back now. If I want another shot with James, I need to break free from my father's control. Starting with a talk that's way overdue.
Chapter 29
Sometimes Blackmail IS The Answer
CALEB
The Coastal Conservation Gala transforms the university's largest room into a winter wonderland. Ice sculptures glisten under strategic lighting, crystal decorations catch and refract the light, and student volunteers weave through the crowd with trays of champagne.
Everyone who matters in San Clemente is here tonight: university alumni, major donors, charity representatives, and my father.
I fix my tie as I look around. The Delta Psi Omega guys seem right at home in their waiter roles. Drew's talking with the university president by the podium, likely going over tonight's schedule.
Gavin's bouncing around the room with his usual energy, pushing guests to check out the charity donation stations. In the back, a few Sigma Delta Tau guys, our friendly neighbours, are chatting with guests.
And then there are the Epsilon Beta Mu asshats, looking uncomfortable in their formal wear as they cluster near one of the bars. Their president catches my eye and directs a curt nod at me. At least they showed up; everyone understands theimportance of supporting university partnerships, even if they'd rather not associate with "the gay frat."
My father stands in the center of a small crowd, laughing at something the Dean of Business said. He looks perfectly at ease in his tailored suit, his campaign smile firmly in place. He hasn't noticed me yet, which gives me a few more minutes to prepare.
"Quite the turnout," Marcus says, appearing at my side with a glass of sparkling water. The Rainbow Haven House manager looks slightly uncomfortable in his suit, but the colourful socks peeking out below his pant legs make me smile.
"Better than we hoped. How are you feeling?"
