Page 131 of Gold Rush

“Huh?”

I see the uncertainty on her face. The hint of embarrassment. She’s being obtuse on purpose.

“How many other times did you think about kissing me?”

“I didn’t, like, keep exact track.” Her hand briefly tightens around mine before her grip relaxes. “It was a random thought sometimes—you asked!”

She’s flustered, and it’s adorable.

“More than a hundred?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hmm.” I pretend to think. “More than⁠—”

“Did you think about it?” she interrupts.

“About kissing you that night or about fucking you better than Calvin did in college? Actually, doesn’t matter. Yes.”

Her jaw literally drops. “You eavesdropped on a private conversation with my sister?”

“I happened to hear you talking about your first time on my way back from fetching drinks, yeah. Sue me for being curious.”

“I will,” Rory retorts. “Emotional distress.”

“Mine wasn’t great either, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t because I know you’re lying.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Girls talk, Flynn. Brooke St. Clair told everyone it was incredible.”

Logically, I knew that Rory attended the same school—schools—that I did. And that I fooled around with classmates of hers in high school. But it did not occur to me before now that Rory had heard those details. Maybe because she took academics so much more seriously than I did. She went to Dalton to learn and achieve, not to gossip.

“I didn’t, uh, realize you’d heard that.”

“Hard not to,” she says in a way that suggests she heard about other girls too.

I’m not ashamed of my past. But I’ve taken it to extremes I’m not proud of, especially during my dark spiral after Penn’s death. I was living like he didn’t get to—because if you think about how you could also die any day, it’s pretty fucking easy to not care about exams or papers or attending classes. To make the most of every moment—until it reaches the point of your own detriment and you’re facing probation or expulsion unless your rich, well-connected father makes some phone calls.

The song ends, and Rory’s hand drops from my shoulder. “I could use some water.”

“I’ll grab you some.”

“I left some at our table.”

The last thing I feel like doing is walking over there. Collins and Kit were seated next to us. Kit knows me well enough to tell I’m out of sorts about something, and I don’t want him speculating what that might be. But I have no excuse for why I wouldn’t want to hang out with my best friend, so I follow Rory in that direction.

Kit grins when he spots us approaching. “Hey, party people!”

Collins smiles, waves, then yawns.

I clap Kit on the shoulder before taking a seat. “You guys made it to midnight. Nice work.”

This morning, while we were all getting ready, Kit and Collins were both bemoaning a lack of sleep. I guess Dylan was especially fussy, being away from home. There was also something about a stuffed bear being missing.

Kit groans, checking his watch. “It’s 12:05. Which means Dylan will be awake in about …”