I kicked off my wet sneakers. “River. Kingswell. You know.”
“Ah.” Noah snapped his fingers like he’d solved a case. “So we’re starting the year with the ‘Liam vs. Kingswell Dynasty Deathmatch?’”
“It wasn’t like that.”
He tilted his head. “Was it Alex?”
I froze with my shirt halfway off.
Noah lifted both brows. “It was Alex.”
I avoided his eyes, peeling off the soaked shirt and tossing it onto my bed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You never want to talk about him,” he said. “Which is why he takes up so much space in that dingy skull of yours.”
I groaned. “Noah—”
“Look, all I’m saying is maybe this year you keep it... medium. No fighting, no glaring, no brooding.”
“I don’t glare.”
“Liam.” He stared at me with pure disbelief.
“Fine. I glare... a little.”
“A little?” Noah laughed. “You have a whole facial expression called ‘Alex Harrington Must Perish.’”
I shook my head and pulled off the rest of my soaked layers. Noah didn’t even blink—he was used to this—so I stripped downto my underwear and grabbed clean clothes. He watched me tug on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt.
“Anyway,” he said, puffing his chest a bit, “I finally picked a major.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Political science. And I’m minoring in philosophy.”
That made me grin for the first time all morning. “Hell yeah, man. That’s awesome.”
He looked proud, like he was already imagining himself marching onto Capitol Hill and arguing someone into submission.
“You’re gonna change the world,” I said. “I’m calling it now.”
Before Noah could respond, my phone buzzed.
Emily
I’m waiting in the dining hall :)
I reached for my bag. “I gotta go. Breakfast with Em.”
“Tell her I say hi,” Noah said. “And seriously... just keep your cool this year, okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” I said, pulling on my shoes.
He raised his eyebrow.
“Alright, alright. I will.”
It sounded believable enough that Noah didn’t push back, but my chest still burned from the morning with Alex.
