Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“This is cozy,” I say, removing my jacket and making myself comfortable. Then I narrow my eyes. “Do you bring girls here to hook up?”
“No, why would I? I have a perfectly functional bed in my room.”
“But you also have a roommate,” I point out. “There’s more privacy here.”
He sits beside me, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Privacy’s overrated. I don’t care if Silas watches.”
The lewd implication brings heat to my cheeks. I always forgot how experienced he is. Even more so than Fenn. When it comes to hooking up, I suspect Lawson is more adventurous than all the boys at Sandover combined.
He takes a flask from his pocket and offers me a sip. I pass, because I’m not sure I could find my way out of here again otherwise.
“How are things with Fenn these days?” he asks curiously.
I answer with a sarcastic snort. “Excellent! I gave him a chance at redemption, and he ended things.”
“Damn. That’s gotta sting.”
“Not anymore.” In fact, on the walk over here, the storm subsided quite a bit. Now it’s more of a low rumble in the distance, moving out to sea. “I gave him every opportunity to do the right thing. Try to salvage something between us. He made his choice.” My tone flattens. “Fenn’s dead to me now.”
Lawson lies down on his side to prop his head on his bent arm. “I don’t know that it’s any consolation, but I’ve had a shit night up until now.”
He’s different tonight. A bit subdued. There’s a distance in his eyes, as if he’s partly here, but also elsewhere in his own mind.
“What happened?”
“Silas yelled at me.” He says it first like a joke. A little pout. Then the mocking grin fades and the hurt is left unmasked. “We got into it before you texted.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Yeah… Apparently giving your best friend an impromptu intervention outside a bar is less than the ideal setting. And a sin worse than murder.”
I lie down on my side too, using my jacket as a pillow. “Are you two going to be okay?”
His attention briefly drifts toward his fingers tracing patterns into the blanket. He tries to configure something of his usual flippant expression in the soft lines of his face, but it falters, never quite achieving the desired effect.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He rolls onto his back, staring at the moon through the holes in the ceiling. “We’ve been through a lot together. But this time…” He folds his arms under his head. “He might be well and truly sick of my shit.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to look out for him. How can he be mad at that?”
“Well, when you’ve spent years as the proverbial black sheep, people tend to rely on that. Set their watches by it. And they don’t take kindly to feeling judged by someone they credit with ruining their life.”
“Wait. You’ve lost me. Silas thinks you ruined his life?”
Lawson releases a heavy breath, and in it, I hear the weight of this burden on his heart.
“It’s a long story,” he finally says.
“I’ve got time.”
There’s more hesitation.
“Oh, come on,” I prod with a little shove. “Unburden yourself. Confession is good for the soul.”
“Those nuns are starting to rot your brain, you know.”
“We can stay here all night…”
He manages a slight smile. “Promises, promises.”
Eventually, though, he gives in.
“I was at Ballard freshman year,” he starts. I hadn’t known that, but it makes sense in hindsight. “I got busted doing coke, and next thing I know, the housefather and Headmaster Fournette are tossing my room. They found enough pharmaceuticals in there to put down an elephant. I was promptly expelled. Then charged. Then pled down and got sentenced to in-patient rehabilitation, thanks to the best juvenile drug lawyer money can buy.”
“I don’t think it took,” I say, biting back a smile.
Lawson manages a laugh. “Yeah, all I learned in rehab was how to better conceal my habits.”
“The system works.”
He hums in agreement. “Cut to sophomore year. I’m now another discarded youth remanded to Sandover to continue my penance. I have a swim meet at Ballard, which is the first time I see Silas again after months apart. So that night after our meet, everyone goes home, and the place is empty, for the most part. Silas and I sit outside behind the pool house with a thermos of Jameson I had stashed in my gym bag, and we have ourselves a little reunion toast.”
Somewhere along the way, I’ve heard this story. Or a version of it. Now I’m realizing Sloane and Fenn and the rest of them never actually knew the truth.
“We’re beyond smashed when I get the idea to go hunt for the headmaster’s car. How we managed to find our way stumbling nearly blind across campus, I don’t know. But there it is in the parking lot of the admin building.” His voice changes. Becoming lower, more tired. “And for some inexplicable reason, Fournette left it unlocked. Keys right there in the cupholder. Fucking idiot. Silas tries to reason with me, begging me not to get in the car. Then he has no choice but to jump in the passenger seat when I rev the engine.”