5
Olivia
Conceptually, I knew Will had a brother. Practically, I had completely forgotten that Willhasa brother. A living, breathing, talking, walking,legendarybrother. The mysterious ex-captain of the basketball team. How am I the last person on this campus to realize that Will’s brother isBen fucking Cabot?
Will was almost embarrassed as he muttered the mystery man’s identity to me in the courtyard earlier, confirming the truth of the matter: the objectively gorgeous man with tousled dark locks and fiery brown eyes was definitely his older brother.
Naturally, Will would have an attractive brother— I wouldn’t expect anything less. Ben, though, is devastating. Objectively speaking. It’s quite simply true; Will would agree, if it wasn’t weird to tell your boyfriend that the brother he’s failed to mention is genetically blessed beyond measure.
I think about how I told him off this morning and grimace at the memory. Under normal circumstances if someone caught me from stumbling backwards I probably wouldn’t have told them to fuck off, but I panicked because I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the stranger, and my boyfriend was literally standing right behind me watching me openly gawk at Ben.
I make a conscious effort to relax the jaw I’ve been tensing as I march down to the newspaper office. When Ian texted me this morning about an urgent assignment, right as Will decided to pick a fight, I was already brainstorming my counter offer. I don’t get stories. I spot them, hunt them, chase them myself. Today, though, I’ve never been so glad for a straight forward story assignment in my life.
The door handle on the heavy Georgian revival door is slick with condensation, and I wipe my freshly manicured hand on the back of my tweed skirt. I see the blue fade of Ian’s hair just above the Mac at the top desk.
“Olivia,” he quips, clearly peeved that I’ve rushed over. The only thing Ian hates more than overeagerness is a bustling newsroom; both are the antithesis to the culture he’s strived to create at the paper. I quickly mask my fluster with a calm smile, and I’m met with a small grin that says he’s got some shit to spill. Ian and I are the same in this way; we love some good gossip. Part of what’s made the paper so distinctly different from the Harvard Gazette or the Yale Daily News is our willingness to lean into dirt and scandal. Gossip is soothing to the soul; the best people engage in it. Obama’s weekly basketball game with his security detail was not simply a physical release for a rapidly graying Barack. It was obviously his weekly gossip sesh. How else was one supposed to handle that one senator’s incessant crying?
“Before you tell me to go fuck myself, listen to the pitch.”
Little does he know, I need a distraction. I’ll take almost anything he gives me after the traumatic morning I just had.
“Spill.” I slide into the chair next to him and purse my lips in faint irritation, if only to give the illusion that this is painful for me.
“Okay. Hot jock disappears without a word two years ago, reappears all of a sudden to finish his senior year. Everyone’sasking what will happen to the program now that he’s back, if or how it’ll upset the basketball team’s perfectly laid plans— you know, sporty shit. Alice is covering that, don’t worry. You come in with the?—”
“I can’t,” I cut Ian off, my brain finally catching up with the gravity of Ian’s request. I feel the panic in the form of sweat as my face flushes.
“Why not? Olivia. Not to pull this card, but I’m your editor,soyou will.” Ian walks toward the window overlooking the campus courtyard. “We need the why.WhyBen Cabot fled Astor Hill is the story anyone and everyone cares about.” Ian turns back looking me directly in the eyes, his tone grave. “People like Ben don’t just abandon their plans like that. Not only did he up and leave but he did so with no explanation. Not covering this would be a huge misstep. Yourefusingto cover this would be a massive misstep, for you.” He looks down his nose at me, emphasizing the word you.
“You can’t expect me to?—”
“Not to mention, I already had Lauren reach out via email and Raya tried to get a quote fromyourboyfriend. Both massive fails, until I realized we literally have you,” he adds, a smug smile settling on his face as he sits at the large plush armchair at his desk. His logic here is sound, but in true Ian fashion he fails to comprehend that I might not want to report on my boyfriend’s brother. The word “ethics” is foreign to him, but I attempt to reason with him anyway.
“This is such a conflict of interest. I cannot ethically cover this story. You are correct, heisWill’s older brother, as of this morning. I mean, as of always. You know what I mean.” My words are becoming jumbled, my thoughts feel fragmented and I need an out. I’ve only justmetthe man and our first interaction was anything but perfect. I practically spat venom at him afterhe basically saved me from the embarrassment of falling on my face.
It hits me that Ian, who may be my only real friend here, has no idea of any of this. He must think I’ve known Ben for years. That I can just ask him to go out for coffee or, better yet, drill him with a quick line of questioning at their next family gathering. He probably assumes I already know why he left, and that I’m the easiest person to task this story with because it won’t even require that much investigation.
I cut Ian off mid sentence, realizing I haven’t even been listening.
“I’m too close to this,” I explain, deciding against sharing the dismal truth about my relationship with Will’s family. This is going to be a problem for Will, and beyond that I can see this becoming a problem for me. Ian crosses his legs, examining me closely.
“What’s really going on here, Liv?” his tone changes from editor to concerned friend, which only happens on occasion.
“Will’s just been having a really hard time lately and—” Ian rolls his eyes, cutting me off.
“Olivia, there has not been a time since I’ve known you that Will isn’t going through some shit. At this point, I can’t tell if he’s got issues or if you do.” I feel my face redden as I narrow my eyes. “Liv, you know I’m right. First it’s that you can’t run for class president, then he has an issue with you doing that study abroad program. Does he want you to fail or are you just scared to?”
I shift in my seat, regaining my confidence as anger blossoms inside me. “I know you think you know everything going on at this school, but your ignorance is really shining through right now.”
He chuckles, giving me the bitchy smirk he only saves for when he knows he’s won. “Exactly Olivia, I am ignorant. That iswhy I am not writing this story— you are.” And I know I can’t say no.
Ian’s right, of course, I consider while walking down the strip of buildings housing the several coffee shops, book stores, and restaurants on campus. A gossip piece is best when messy; ideally, the mess wouldn’t involve me. I thought this assignment would be a decent, albeit temporary, distraction from my issues with Will and the existence of his extremely attractive brother. Instead, the universe is telling me to deal with this head on. Fine. Head on was not my preferred manner of handling this, but it is certainly a manner I’m familiar with.
I’m about to pop my right AirPod into my ear when I hear “Beckett!” from behind me. A comforting warmth blooms in my chest.
“Hey,” I offer with a sigh as I reach up to reciprocate Grant’s signature bear hug.
“Where are you headed? I’ll walk with you.”
