“Ah, the easy out.” He adjusts his Goldman Sachs cap like it's a crown. “I played lacrosse at Princeton. No excuses there—you either perform or you don't.”
“Impressive, bro.” I keep my voice completely neutral. Piper makes a small choking sound beside me.
“Right?” He doesn't pick up on the sarcasm at all. “Anyway, don't let her drink too much at this party. Remember that one Thanksgiving, Pipes? When you threw up after one beer?”
Piper's face goes red. “I had food poisoning?—”
“Sure, you did.” He checks his phone, then grins. “Shit, Brad just texted. They're doing this thing where they're making pledges wrestle in baby oil. Classic.” He looks up at us. “You ever do that stuff, man?”
“Not really my scene.”
“Yeah, you seem more...” he waves vaguely at me, “low-key. Probably for the best. Pipes here wouldn't know what to do at a real rager.”
The casual dismissal makes my jaw clench. Piper shrinks a little more beside me.
Jesus Christ, I think, watching her fold into herself. Growing up with this must have been brutal. My dad rides my ass about football and career choices, sure, but at least he sees me. Jackson looks at his sister like she's furniture—something you only notice when it's in your way.
Jackson's phone buzzes again. “Fuck, they're starting without me.” He looks between us one more time, and his smirk returns. “So wait—is this actually a thing? You two?”
“We're—” Piper starts.
“Because honestly, good for you, Pipes. Finally. Mom was starting to worry you were, you know...” He makes a vague gesture that could mean anything from gay to serial killer. “Anyway, this is good. Normal. She'll be thrilled.”
“I'm not dating someone for Mom's approval?—”
“Hey, no judgment. Whatever works.” He claps me on the shoulder with unnecessary force. “Just make sure she doesn't get too intense about it. She tends to fixate.”
He's already walking away, phone to his ear. “Brad! Yeah, I'm coming. Save me one of the freshman...” His voice fades as he disappears across the quad.
Piper stares after him, shoulders hunched. “I'm sorry about him.”
“Your brother's an asshole.”
And if he's the golden child, I think, what does that say about her parents? The way he casually mentioned their mom's “worry” about Piper being abnormal, like having a daughter who focuses on school is some shameful family secret.
No wonder she accepts crumbs from people like Miles—she's been trained her whole life to be grateful for any attention at all.
“Hey.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “You okay?”
“He didn't even tell me he was coming.” Her voice is small. “I'm his sister and I found out by accident. He's probably been planning this for weeks.”
“Maybe he forgot?”
She laughs, but it's hollow. “Jackson doesn't forget. He just... doesn't think about me unless he has to. None of them do, really. My parents only get interested when I do something normal. Like date someone.”
“Normal?”
“You know. Not sitting in my room coding.” She glances at me. “When they find out about tomorrow, about me going to a real party with a real guy, my mom will probably cry with joy.”
The matter-of-fact way she says it breaks my heart. Like she's accepted that her actual achievements—getting into Jenkins' lab, building a revolutionary app—mean nothing compared to being “normal”.
My dad might not understand my choices, but at least heknows what I'm working toward matters to me. Piper's family doesn't even see her work as real.
“Well, good thing I'm exceptionally bragworthy.” I strike a pose, trying to make her smile. “Star student, devastatingly handsome, plant father extraordinaire.”
“Please. You're barely house-trained.”
“I'm very house-trained! I almost never pee on the carpet anymore.”
