I almost laughed.
“Look,” Ethan said, leaning forward now, “I’m on scholarship. Film and media studies. My dad teaches at a community college. I don’t have connections. I need to build them.” He paused. “You’re supposed to have all the connections in the world. But you’re here instead of there. So maybe we can help each other.”
My phone buzzed again.
Marcus
eldridge just asked where you are… what do i tell him?
I stared at it. Thought about going back. Thought about Marcus and the rest of the freshman crew sitting in some common room doing trust falls or whatever bullshit team building Coach Eldridge had planned.
Thought about my father’s voice.The Harrington name carries weight.
“What happens if I just... don’t go back?” I asked.
Ethan studied me. “To the bonding thing?”
“To any of it.”
“Jesus. That’s a big question for pancakes.”
I shrugged.
He was quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. “I mean... worst case? You disappoint some people. Best case? You be yourself.”
I actually laughed. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because Harringtons don’t quit. We win.”
“That’s fucked up,” Ethan said.
“Yeah.”
My phone buzzed one more time.
Marcus
fine whatever be a dick
I turned off the screen and looked at Ethan. “If I talk to Coach Eldridge about you filming—will you stop asking me questions?”
“No,” Ethan said, grinning. “But I’ll buy you more terrible pancakes.”
***
We spent another hour in the diner, then walked back to campus together.
“I need this,” Ethan said as we climbed the steps to the dorm. “Seriously. The crew thing could be huge for my portfolio.”
“I’ll email him your stuff. Can’t promise anything.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
We walked into the lobby—worn leather furniture, wood paneling, portraits of distinguished alumni.
“What floor are you on?” I asked.
