The front door bangs open.
I hurriedly shuffle the old exams into a pile. My head whips around, trying to find a good hiding place. I lift up the sofa cushion and stuff them under it.
When I meet Sebastian’s gaze, he looks like he could rip out my jugular for putting his old exams with the dust bunnies and rusted pennies. Oops.
Connor’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “We can keep brainstorming. We’ll come up with something, Lo.” They must be discussing the start-up company that Lo has to pitch to his father. He has a couple days left to choose a platform, and he enlisted Connor’s expertise. They spent all morning at a meeting to throw around ideas—and when I say “meeting,” I mean they sat in Starbucks.
They both saunter into the living room, Connor carrying a tray of coffees and a small pastry. “I thought you could use some test-taking boosts,” he tells me. Oh, this is why I love Connor Cobalt as a tutor. I beam, but that falls suddenly at the realization that I’m (A) Lying to him. (B) Cheating. (C) Team Sebastian. (D) Accepting the treats despite all of the above.
I say thanks and scoop the whipped cream from the coffee with my finger. Sin does taste delicious.
Lo stands off to the side, busily texting on his phone. Six days have passed since our bathroom fight over my self-love, and he has yet to forgive me completely. Our fights used to revolve around our addictions—sometimes we’d just drown in them for an extended week, ignoring each other. But this is areal, normal fight that hurts more than I ever thought it would.
“Lo, did you come up with any good ideas for the company?” I ask. I offered to help, but every time I suggested something, he told me to focus on my health. I grab the chocolate-filled croissant on the table and tear off small pieces to eat. I dunk a portion in my coffee.
Lo acknowledges me, and his eyes lighten when he sees me eating. “The top choice is a food truck.” He doesn’t look enthusiastic about that idea.
I take a slurp from my coffee. “You have more time,” I remind him. “It’s not over until the fat lady sings…” I narrow my eyes. No that’s not right. “Well, in this case the fat lady would be your father.”
He smiles, and he must catch the momentary lapse of happiness towards me because his lips downturn quickly. He closes off the conversation with the shift of his body.
We’re still fighting apparently.
“Where’s Rose?” Sebastian asks, lighting another cigarette.
Connor stares at it, letting irritation cross his face, his chest inflating with a deep inhale. “She’s taking a final, and you shouldn’t be smoking in here.”
“And yet…” Sebastian blows out a short puff. “I am.”
Lo’s phone rings, and he slips into the kitchen to answer his cell.
Connor steps towards Sebastian, and my evil tutor suddenly springs from his chair, both guys standing their ground with superiority. They each believe they’re better than the other. I’m not accustomed to intellectual stand-offs.
Sebastian appraises the cigarette in his fingers. “She hardly cares if I smoke, you know. If you did it, she’d drop you like she did her last boyfriend. She found a pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket. Next day, he was gone. Lasted one taxingly long week.”
“You planted the cigarettes on him, didn’t you?”
Sebastian takes a long drag and breathes the smoke right into Connor’s face. “Perceptive.”
Connor doesn’t even flinch. “Maybe you should be.”
Sebastian lets out a laugh. “You don’t think I am? I know that Rose has spent almost no time with you since Calloway Couture has suffered. I know that she cried on my shoulder two nights ago, not yours. I know that she called me, not you, to help pack up her office.”
She already started boxing her workplace?
“You feel threatened by me,” Connor states, stepping forward so only a small space separates his body fromSebastian’s. Connor has the height advantage—he usually does.
“By Connor Cobalt? A guy who is willing to sell out anyone if the benefit weighs on his side. No, I am not threatened by you. I just hate you.” Sebastian gives him a long once-over. “Rose always did too. I don’t know what you said that changed her mind.”
“She never hated me,” Connor says casually.
“She bitched about you all the time in prep school. She’d return from Model UN, and I’d have to listen to her drone on about howRichardmade a treaty against her country’s best interests. HowRichardwon the highest honor for countering terrorist actions.” Model UN sounds mildly intense and slightly scary.
“For such a smart guy, you really know nothing,” Connor says, his voice even-tempered. “She liked me, Sebastian. Shebitchedto you because she was attracted tome, a guy that riled her more than placated her, and that pissed her off.” Connor steals the cigarette from his fingers. “And if you truly cared for that girl, you’d realize that every time you smoke in this house, you set off her OCD.”
Sebastian’s lip twitches.
“You didn’t know that, did you?” Connor says. “While she cries on your shoulder about her company, yesterday she stayed the night atmyapartment. And I spent four fucking hours calming her down becauseyouput wild ideas in her head. You smoke, you mess with her things, and you return her to me restless. She paces back and forth, muttering idioms that make no sense, and I have to figure out how to put her back together. You are not a friend to her; you’re a parasite.”
