Sister card. God knows it’s time the tables turned a bit.” She repeats, “You should try to talk to him again. Don’t argue or fight. Just talk. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Emory, it’s that you’re his weakness. Use that.”
I nod, but I doubt it will do much. The whole situation feels hopeless and immoveable—just as steel as I’d felt that morning.
34
Reyn
I’ve spent a lifetime on a tightrope, balancing over a cavernous pit of shame, guilt, punishment, and fear. The rope sways but somehow, some way, I’ve always managed to stay vertical.
Pure defiance, mostly.
A touch of stubbornness.
A heavy dose of not-giving-a-shit.
But at the moment, that tightrope is pulled taut, and I’m swaying over a pit of vipers. First, there’s Emory, who I know is going to give me my reckoning once this prank is over with. There also Dewey, who will kick my ass back to Mountain Point—or worse—if he catches me sneaking around campus. There’s my dad, who’s been counting on me to stay clean, even though every single circumstance pushes me into the muck. Then there’s Vandy, the girl I love, who will get hurt the most if I screw any of this up.
It just keeps piling on and on, and I keep juggling and bracing for a fall that I won’t let happen. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe this is all adulthood is—facing one problem after another and just dealing with it, because there’s no other option. There’s a part of me that wants to just run away from it all. To snatch her up and drive her away from all this pretentious, secret-society, prep-school bullshit. But then… I got into this for her. To give her something. Because if I really do end up on the wrong side of this, at least she’ll have the club and the relationships she’s built. The Playthings like her. They treat her like one of the girls. And she’ll have Sebastian, who still sometimes makes me want to hear her promise again, but who seems to get her.
There’s a long whistle from the doorway, drawing my attention.
“Look at you.” My dad leans against the door frame, eyebrow raised. “Gonna break some hearts tonight.”
I turn back to the mirror. The suit is ridiculous, but looking the part is a requirement of the job. “It’s only for a few hours,” I remind myself, even though he’s not wrong. I look damn good in a suit.
Even if I can’t get this fucking bowtie tied.
He pushes off the jamb and walks into the room, pulling a stack of bills from his wallet. He tucks them neatly into my palm. “Take her someplace nice, pull her chair out for her, chew with your mouth closed.”
I blink at him in confusion. “What? Who?”
“Your date, dumbass.”
I hand the money back to him. “I don’t have a date.” I try not to even humor the thought of it—how nice it’d be to do all those things with Vandy. “I’m just going for the team.”
My dad frowns at the money. “Didn’t you ask anyone?”
“No.”
“Not even hickey girl?” He gives me a look that’s full of disappointment, muttering, “Maybe your mother was right.”
“About what?” This whole conversation is making the back of my neck sweat. Or maybe it’s just because I keep fucking this bowtie up.
He sighs, eyes roving around my room. “She seems to think I’m not setting a good example here.” His lips press into a grim line. “With how to respectfully treat women.”
“Christ…” I walk over to the laptop, searching for a tutorial.
He kicks around the room, face tight. “Here’s the thing, Reyn. The women I bring home… they know what’s in the cards for them. You understand that, right? I don’t… date… younger women because I prefer them, it’s because they’re single and not looking for anything serious. It’s important to—”
“For fuck’s sake!” I can’t take it anymore. The man says the word ‘date’ like he’s referring to a backroom orgy. “I’m not you, Dad. I don’t sleep around!” Not anymore. When the roiling nausea passes, I decide to give him a piece of the truth. “I didn’t ask anyone to the dance because the person I want to ask can’t go with me. That’s it.”
His face smoothes out into something slack and surprised. “Oh.” His eyes narrow. “Hickey girl?”
I know he’s fishing for a name, but all I offer is a terse, “Yes.”
He exhales in relief. “For the record, these talks hurt me more than they hurt you.”