Wow, that had been a lot of horrible joy from freshmen too early in the morning. Being excited about going to France was so gauche. Did people not understand Aiden was tired?
“Leave me out of the team meetings next time,” said Aiden, sighing as he rose to his feet. “Not sure I have the constitution to bear Nicholas Cox’s haircut before breakfast.”
“Aiden, do you remember what I talked to you about?” asked Coach Williams in her most ultra-solemn voice.
He had a dim recollection. She’d been using the ultra-solemn voice then, too.
“Not really,” Aiden drawled. “Wasn’t listening then, won’t listen now.”
He shut the door of the coach’s office. As he made his way down the hall, his phone buzzed in his pocket, but when he slid it out of his uniform pants, it wasn’t a guy trying to make a date. It was Rosina, the woman who’d almost been one of his many stepmothers, the one he’d loved. She wanted to reconnect, and Aiden had thought for a passing moment that he’d like to.
Not anymore. Even Harvard, the person who knew Aiden best, found the idea of getting closer to him to be the worst thing he could imagine. So Aiden already knew how reconnecting would end. Better for Rosina to be a little disappointed now than a lot disappointed later. This way, Aiden wouldn’t have to watch her be disappointed.
He silenced his phone and put it back in his pocket without reading the message. The world was worryingly fuzzy around the edges, and his jaw was aching from clenching it too hard, but Aiden congratulated himself on a personal victory. He’d been in the same room as Harvard and hadn’t looked at him more than three times, and now he’d escaped.
“Aiden!” called Harvard’s voice behind him.
Aiden never got lucky. Aside from in the obvious sense.
“Hey.” Aiden refused to pick up the pace on his sauntering stride. That would look like running away. “You go ahead to breakfast. I’m not hungry.”
“Great,” said Harvard. “Me neither. I want to talk.”
“But I’m starving to death,” protested Aiden as Harvard took hold of his elbow and piloted him down the brick walkway running along the quad, back to the dormitory.
Once again, Aiden’s stupid body betrayed him, every cell too aware of Harvard’s hand—on his arm, for God’s sake. The cells were all in a rush of warm approval. Yes, go with Harvard; yes, do whatever Harvard wants, yes.
He hadn’t been back to their room in… It had been a while. Harvard had made both beds. Aiden strolled over to the bedside and lay down across them, hoping this looked more like lounging than a collapse. His teddy bear, Harvard Paw, was tilting dangerously off the side of the bed. Aiden viciously crushed the urge to rescue the bear. He wasn’t that little kid anymore, clutching his toy, trailing after Harvard in helpless adoration. He refused to be.
He closed his eyes. Oh, he was so tired. Maybe, if Harvard was here but didn’t talk to him and wasn’t in the bed, maybe Aiden could sleep.
“Could you open your eyes and look at me?” Harvard asked.
Aiden’s eyes opened without his consciously willing it. Damn his idiot, treacherous body. Harvard was standing a careful distance from the bed. He didn’t look wrecked, the way Aiden was. He looked like he always did, tall and strong, broader across the shoulders than the average fencer but able to walk softer than anyone, his black hair cropped close and his brown eyes the kindest in the world. He looked like everything Aiden had ever wanted in his whole life.
“Hey, Aiden,” Harvard said in the gentle voice Aiden loved best. “Listen to me for a minute.”
“Nah,” Aiden responded. “I think I can guess what’s going on. Coach told you to make sure your teammate fell in line, and you said, Yes, Coach, like a good little captain. But I’m gonna pass. Getting lectured seems like a buzzkill. Life’s too short to do things I don’t want to do.”
“Is there anything you do want to do?” Harvard snapped.
“Hmm. I don’t know,” Aiden drawled. “Want to make out?”
Something flickered in Harvard’s eyes, turning the gold in them dark. For a shocked, dizzy, delirious moment, Aiden thought Harvard might say yes. Then Harvard’s mouth twisted, and Aiden realized the emotion darkening his eyes was disgust.
“I—what?” said Harvard, clearly at a loss faced with Aiden’s revolting offer. “No.”
Aiden smirked to show he didn’t care at all. “Didn’t think so.”
Harvard sighed as if he found Aiden exasperating. Aiden had always believed it was fond exasperation, but maybe he was wrong.
“Yeah, Coach asked me to talk to you. She was concerned about your behavior. I am, too.”
“Why?” asked Aiden.
Harvard frowned. “You just don’t seem yourself.”
Aiden laughed and made it convincing. “I’ve been messing around with a lot of guys, neglecting my fencing, and generally having a good time. How is that not like me?”
Harvard had no answer for that, Aiden saw to his bitter satisfaction. Aiden was simply living down to everyone’s expectations. The only thing that was different was that now Aiden had crushed out the last remnant of the little kid that trailed Harvard everywhere; that idiot who still hoped.
“I’ve always been a jackass,” purred Aiden. “Nothing’s changed. Isn’t that what you wanted? For nothing to change?”
He had to get up off this bed and out of this room. He couldn’t stand to be around Harvard, yet he felt like he couldn’t bear to leave. That was why he had to go now.
Aiden decided he couldn’t wait to go to France. Surely there would be many opportunities for oblivion there. He just wished he could also take a vacation from himself.
“Hey, bud. What’s going on with you?” Harvard asked at last, his voice strained with the effort of being casual. “Let me help.”
Okay, bro, be a pal and fall in love with me, Aiden snarled in his head. Only, Harvard had already made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to do that.
“For the last time, there’s nothing going on with me. I just like to have fun, Harvard.” Aiden could almost see his own voice on the air, gleaming and cutting like razor wire. “I know the concept must be terribly confusing for you. Since you’re no fun at all.”