21 AIDEN

Aren’t you sure of Aiden, Captain?” Eugene asked from within the infirmary.

Harvard’s silence in response to that question echoed throughout the hall. Anyone who happened to be walking by might learn of Harvard’s lack of confidence in his best friend.

Aiden’s hand stilled on the handle of the infirmary door. Whatever. He shouldn’t check up on Eugene, because Eugene didn’t need him. Eugene had Harvard to comfort him. Nobody was better at that than Harvard, so Aiden didn’t even have to try. Aiden turned around and shoved the ghastly handful of weight-lifting magazines he’d collected at a startled nurse. Then he showed himself out.

Nobody else had much confidence in Aiden, but he’d always thought Harvard saw him differently. Saw him less the way he was and more the way he hoped to be. Only, of course, Harvard didn’t see him differently at all. That was why Harvard had turned him down.

It was fine, Aiden told himself. It was nothing he didn’t know already.

“Oh, hello there,” said some French guy, strolling up to Aiden. “You look nice.”

“Yes, that isn’t a new thing for me,” Aiden said absently.

The boy smiled. “Ready for our date?”

“Our what?” Aiden demanded irritably. “Who are you?”

The boy smiled wider as though he understood Aiden was playing a game, and he enjoyed the game, too. “I’m Bastien. I beat Nicholas Cox for you this morning. I’m thinking we could get dinner?”

Oh yes. He had offered that date. One more in a long list of terrible decisions Aiden had made.

Aiden said in a silky voice, “I’m thinking you should get lost.”

The cute French guy blinked.

“Seems we have a lot in common,” said Aiden. “I, too, think it’s hilarious to make a show of beating someone younger and considerably less skilled than me.”

The boy licked his lips. “I didn’t think about it that way. If you’re mad about that…”

“Oh no,” said Aiden. “I’m a terrible bully myself. But I didn’t enjoy seeing my teammate get mocked by European fencers.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Go make it up to Nicholas,” Aiden snapped. “If I want to be with someone nasty and pretty, I can look in a mirror. I have no interest in wasting time with a second-rate copy of me. And I’ve already forgotten your name.”

He stormed off. Harvard was being the perfect captain and looking after his teammates, so it was safe for Aiden to go back to their room and retrieve Harvard Paw. It was a comfort to hold on to him. Also, perhaps if he walked around holding on to a stuffed animal, people would stop bothering him.

When he came down to dinner, people still bothered him.

It was absurd what people would let you get away with, just because you were ridiculously good-looking.

“You’re a true original,” some guy told him.

No, Aiden thought, I am a clearly disturbed individual carrying a stuffed animal through France.

Aiden shrugged. “Well, I’m not a reproduction. People have tried and failed to make copies.”

He fussed around with his teddy bear, propping it up against a water glass, then realized his mistake when Harvard came to find him. He wished he could hide the bear. It was fine if everyone at Camp Menton thought he was weird, but he didn’t want Harvard to know he was pathetic.

“Hey, Aiden. I was looking for you.”

“I can’t have dinner with the team,” Aiden told him hastily. “I’m having too much fun with Vlad from Hungary here.”

“Victor,” said the guy. “From Holland.”

“Don’t be difficult, Viggo,” said Aiden.

Unfortunately, the guy chose this moment to have some self-respect. He rose and stomped off, leaving Aiden alone with his best friend. Of all the nerve.

“This is why it would never have worked between us, Valentino,” Aiden called after him.

When he glanced up at Harvard, he found Harvard already gazing down at him. Harvard was probably thinking about Aiden’s worthless ways.

“I’ve already had dinner with the team. The older trainees are allowed down into the town,” Harvard said. “Wanna come with me?”

Yes.

“Sorry, I have a date,” Aiden bit out.

“With who?”

Aiden made a dismissive gesture. “You know I never remember their names.”

Harvard took a deep breath, then said, “Cancel it.”

Aiden closed his hand on the bear’s stuffed arm, unobtrusively, behind his plastic water glass. Harvard didn’t mean that the way it sounded.

“I think it would be good for us,” said Harvard, heartbreakingly earnest. “A chance to—get back to being best friends.”

“Don’t you think our bond is unbreakable, buddy?” Aiden made himself laugh.

Harvard didn’t laugh. He stood there looking steadily down at him, as sincere as Aiden was insincere.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, making Aiden’s joke serious. “Come with me, Aiden. Please.”

Aiden went. He didn’t stand a chance against Harvard. He never had.

It was a beautiful evening on the Riviera. Aiden was walking down the Esplanade des Sablettes with the boy he loved, trying desperately to think of a way out of this situation.

The issue was, Aiden thought with gathering unease, their surroundings were picturesque and romantic. The sun was low in the sky, turning the Mediterranean into a wash of gold and tinting the mountains beyond purple, and happy couples seemed to be decorating the esplanade like the palm trees that lined the walkway. People were holding hands, all in love.

He’d held Harvard’s hand a few times when they were pretending to date. Harvard had reached out and held his hand first, and it had felt as if nobody had ever done it before.

Now the back of Aiden’s hand brushed against Harvard’s, and Harvard jerked back as if Aiden were a scorpion who’d stung him.

Aiden clung to Harvard Paw, lifted his free hand, and pointed desperately at a stall. “Ice cream!” he said. “Let’s get ice cream.”

Once they were at the front of the line, Aiden put on his reading glasses to study the menu. He didn’t wear reading glasses on dates, only when he was comfortable and didn’t care about being more attractive than usual. Then Aiden proceeded to be disgusting and inconsiderate.

“I will have the lemon sorbet, and he will have”—Aiden searched among the ice creams and found the obvious winner—“the fig and foie gras ice cream,” Aiden declared grandly in French.

Harvard rolled his eyes, fond. “My friend’s joking. I’ll have the blood orange sorbet.”

Spoken in Harvard’s low serious voice, French was sexy, Aiden thought with horror. Aiden hadn’t heard Harvard speak French before. How could his best friend betray him by speaking French in France?

They’d always planned to go together. Aiden had been to France before, obviously—he was a spoiled rich kid whose dad had a yacht in Menton—but he’d never been to France with Harvard before. He’d last visited France with… some guy? Aiden didn’t recall. Last summer Harvard had cruelly abandoned Aiden to go to France with his parents and learned to ride a motorcycle.

No, Aiden told his treacherous brain. Do not think about the motorcycle.

They ate their ice cream in an awkward silence. He and Harvard had never had an awkward silence before. Aiden didn’t even dare look at him.

Aiden had always known that if he ever pursued anything with Harvard, he would ruin the best thing in his life. Well, here was ruin.

Aiden searched his mind frantically for some way to prove to his own disordered mind that this wasn’t a date. Flirting with other people! If he flirted with other people, everything would work out.

He heard a click of high heels behind him and whipped around to give his latest pursuer a melting look.

He went for maximum purr. “Mademoiselle?”

“Madame,” corrected the woman of around fifty, who was wearing a gray power suit. “Very flattered, but happily married, and you’re a touch young for me. What I wanted to say was, I’m a scout for a modeling agency. May I give you my card? You’re a stunning young man, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

“They don’t,” said Aiden morosely.

Well, that was a disaster. Harvard was laughing as Aiden threw the card in the trash. Aiden shoved Harvard’s shoulder, then pulled back his hand and stuffed it into the back pocket of his own jeans. Harvard’s shoulders weren’t safe.

“Wow, don’t sulk. The nice lady thought you were a stunning young man,” Harvard said, his voice sweet and affectionate. Aiden wished Harvard would just stab him.

Instead, Aiden tried to keep up the joke. He batted his lashes. “What do you think?”

Oh yes, Aiden. What a good joke. Extremely hilarious.

Had Aiden teasing Harvard always sounded like flirting? Was he being pathetic now, or had he been pathetic this whole time?

Maybe Harvard was just noticing how pathetic Aiden was now. Harvard went conspicuously silent. Aiden bit down on his lip hard.

Someone tugged on Aiden’s sleeve and said, in a small shy voice, “Pretty.”

“I know,” Aiden snarled, whipping around. That was no use to him at all. Harvard didn’t care, so why did everyone keep bothering him about it?

A small child of indeterminate gender in a sailor suit, with curling brown lovelocks, was holding up a black-and-white stuffed toy for Aiden’s inspection. Guilt struck Aiden down with a terrible and relentless hand.

“I have a bear, too,” said the little kid.

Overcome by remorse, Aiden went down on one knee so that he could properly admire the bear. “I see,” he said. “Very handsome.”

“My mom gave me him,” confided the kid, glancing up at the woman with bold red lipstick, who was holding their hand.

Aiden flashed her a grin. “That was nice of her.”

“Who gave you your bear?” asked the kid, studying Harvard Paw’s beret with fascination. Aiden had wanted Harvard to be dressed for the occasion.

“My best friend, Harvard,” Aiden told the kid, slanting his grin Harvard’s way.

Except Harvard wasn’t looking at him. He was looking in entirely the opposite direction. He’d caught sight of Arune and a couple of MLC boys and was waving determinedly to get their attention.

Aiden’s stomach curdled, sour. Great. Arune was here.

“That was nice of your friend,” said the kid.

It had been. Everything about Harvard was nice. Harvard had been the tallest boy in class then, the same way he was now, and Aiden had been small and pathetic. He’d just wanted to follow Harvard around and had used the bear as an excuse, but then Harvard had smiled so warmly it made Aiden forget all the cold echoes of his vast empty home, and he offered Aiden the bear to keep for his own.

“Yeah.” Aiden’s smile returned, charmed by the memory. “It was. That’s why I called the bear Harvard Paw after him. The name is also a pun.”

After deep thought, the kid offered, “My bear is a panda. He is called Mr. Bear.”

“Well, that’s a good name, too,” said Aiden, standing. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Harvard Paw!” the kid called after him, using their panda’s paw to wave after him.

The paw-waving operation was too intricate and met with immediate failure. The stuffed bear rolled right off the esplanade. The kid burst into tears. Aiden went to the edge of the walkway, to see if he could retrieve the toy from the sandy shore, but this was one of the points in the esplanade where there were only stone steps leading down into the sea. A black-and-white paw surfaced, buffeted by the tides, as though Mr. Bear were appealing for help.

Harvard was absorbed in his conversation with Arune and had noticed nothing, but Aiden knew what Harvard would have done, if a kid was crying.

So Aiden dropped Harvard Paw, pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, then dove into the sea.

He submerged for only a moment before surfacing. In the gathering dark of evening, it was difficult to find a single stuffed animal in an ocean of shadows. He snatched at a moving shape, ending up with a fistful of seaweed.

At the edge of the esplanade, a crowd was gathering, their whispering becoming another sea of murmurs. Aiden was able to distinguish, in French, the words “Did a child fall in?” “Is it a puppy?” and “Who is that beautiful merman?”

Then, always singular and distinct to Aiden no matter how many other voices there might be around him, one particular voice said, “Aiden, over there!”

Aiden had gone on a class hunt for Easter eggs when he was eight. He and Harvard had a whole system worked out, so they could find the most chocolate eggs. Aiden was smaller and could wiggle into little places or climb trees, and Harvard could run fast and reach up high. They made a good team.

A light shone on the waters, cast by the flashlight on Harvard’s phone. Aiden followed the beam trustingly, snatched at another dark shape, and found himself holding a sodden panda toy. Then he looked around for the source of light.

Harvard called in his captain’s voice, “Now over here!”

Aiden threw the bear. Then he had his hands free, and with the help of the flashlight, he found the stone steps leading out of the water.

His hair had gone loose, his hair tie lost to the waves. He had to shake the wet mass back as he climbed the stone steps out of the dark sea into the glittering lights of the esplanade.

Someone in the crowd said faintly, “Mon Dieu.”

Arune was holding Harvard Paw. Aiden snatched him back. That was Aiden’s bear, and Arune couldn’t have him.

“How many teddy bears are involved in this situation?” Arune asked.

Harvard, always to be relied upon, had already restored the wet panda toy to his owner. The kid was now clutching the panda, looking up at Harvard, and sniffling.

“Don’t cry, there’s a good boy,” said Harvard.

Oh, was the kid a boy? Okay.

The kid was still crying, but he stopped when Harvard kneeled down, enfolded him in his arms, and patted his back. Aiden glared down at his tiny head. Stupid, lucky children who couldn’t even keep hold of their toys.

“Where’s my shirt?” Aiden demanded.

Apparently, Arune had that, too. Aiden grabbed it back and put it on without thanking him.

The shirt was very little help. The material was soaked through and plastered to Aiden’s wet skin as soon as he shrugged it on. It was warm in Menton, between the Mediterranean and the mountains, but it was still October at night. Aiden shivered and hated the world.

“Oh, hey,” said Harvard, and unzipped his Kings Row hoodie.

Harvard always dressed sensibly for the weather, Aiden thought miserably, and then started when Harvard draped the hoodie around Aiden’s shoulders. Aiden clutched on to it by reflex.

“Come here,” Harvard continued.

“I won’t give it back, I need it,” protested Aiden, still clutching. “I’ll get a chill. I’ll die. How can you be so cruel and unfeeling? Don’t take it away.”

Harvard rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking it away. I’m doing it up, so the night air won’t get inside it. Idiot,” he added affectionately, and cuffed gently at Aiden’s head.

He bullied Aiden into putting his arms in the hoodie sleeves and then zipped it up. Aiden moved in closer. They had gone on exactly one date outside Kings Row, a practice date to the county fair. He and Harvard had gone on the Ferris wheel, and Harvard had put his arm around him. It felt like he might do the same thing now.

He could feel Harvard’s warmth through his wet clothes. Later that night, they had been caught in a rainstorm and kissed frantically up against the door of their dormitory.

I love your hair, Harvard had murmured in Aiden’s ear. For a couple of days after, whenever Aiden looked in the mirror, he’d thought of Harvard saying that, touched his own hair, and smiled.

He wasn’t smiling now. Harvard’s knuckles were resting against Aiden’s stomach. Aiden’s mind was filled with suddenly crucial math. Four points of contact. Two layers of fabric between them. Aiden’s heartbeats, gone too fast and wild to count. Harvard swallowed once.

Aiden startled back, in a movement like a wild bird held in someone’s hands. He couldn’t let himself be held when he wasn’t going to be kept.

“So, uh… you were in the ocean, Aiden?” asked Arune. “We all thought you’d be out on a date with that guy Bastien. He said you’d promised him a date if he won his match.”

“I hardly call beating Nicholas Cox a victory,” Aiden drawled.

“Didn’t Nicholas once beat you?” Harvard asked.

Aiden gave up on drawling and shoved him. “I’ve told you that was a fluke!”

They had discussed this extensively, and Harvard could quit teasing him about it anytime. Harvard knew Aiden had simply been caught off guard by Nicholas’s total imperviousness to psychological warfare. Usually Aiden could win a match, even against people who were technically better than he was, by zeroing in on their weak points. Nicholas was almost all weak points, but he didn’t seem to care about having that remarked on.

“It wasn’t a fluke. Nicholas is a great kid and has huge potential as a fencer,” Harvard told Arune earnestly.

“Ugh, I’ve told you to stop having whole-hearted belief in people,” complained Aiden, shoving him again. “You’re so gross.”

“Cool, okay, give me back my hoodie,” Harvard teased, and he reached out and pulled the zipper of the hoodie down.

Then Harvard froze.

Joking around was ruined, standing close was ruined, touching was ruined. Aiden stood on the edge of the sea, in the ruin of their friendship, staring up at Harvard with wide, desperate eyes.

“Sorry, I have to ask,” said Arune. “People had bets on it, even back in middle school. Did you guys ever date?”

Aiden had always hated Arune, and he’d been so right.

What the hell, Arune?! Why would someone ask that out of the blue, for literally no reason? After shooting Arune a single desperately enraged look, Aiden assumed an air of complete indifference.

Harvard coughed then receded like the tide, leaving Aiden alone.

“Uh, guys,” said Arune. “Is that a no?”

They’d agreed they would pass off their weekend of practice dating as just another one of Aiden’s flings.

“Yes, we did date briefly, but as you can imagine—” began Aiden in a breezy tone.

“No,” said Harvard loudly. “We didn’t date. Not really. It was nothing. Right, Aiden?”

He met Aiden’s gaze. The reflections of electric lights on the water were growing brighter as the sea and sky grew darker, absinthe green and yellow, and dangerous red. The lights stretched onto the horizon, which was now very distant and very dark.

Aiden said, “You’re right, Harvard. It was nothing at all.”