Rich Prick – Tijan Page 0,102

to blows.”

“I’m kinda disappointed,” Bren said. “But relieved at the same time.” She looked at me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Is it wrong to feel bad for her?”

“Nah. She’s hurting. That’s obvious. But she’s trying to do the right thing by not taking it out on you. Steer clear of her. That’s the kindest thing to do now.”

She was right.

Taz gestured to their side of the campsite. “We’re going to do s’mores. You want to hang for a bit?”

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Blaise’s over the campfire.

I nodded in their direction, and he looked over to where his brother was.

I was trying to convey that I was going over there, but that’s not what happened. His shoulders went rigid, but he nodded and stood. He said a few words with Zeke, grabbed some of the booze we’d been drinking, and came around to where we were standing.

Bren went stiff next to me. “What are you doing?”

His tone was cool. “Not starting shit.” He nodded. “She likes you.”

That must’ve been enough, because Bren and Taz turned back, and their entire group watched us come. All were silent for a second until we settled.

I sat at their table, with Blaise beside me at first.

Then as the conversation started, as Blaise remained quiet, just sitting with me, and the guys started to relax. Conversation flowed, and after a full hour, they were laughing and telling jokes. The s’mores were yum. Blaise gave me an extra one of his, but for the most part, he was content to remain quiet, sipping his drink.

Later on, Zeke, Brian, and Branston moved their chairs so they were closer to where we sat, but they remained at their own bonfire.

Then Blaise moved, grabbing one of the bigger lounge chairs. He settled in and pulled me down onto his lap. And that’s where we sat the rest of the night.

Blaise held me while I laughed with his brother and the rest of their group.

It was nice.

It was progress.

47

Blaise

The next month didn’t unfold the way I wanted it to, nor how I expected it to.

I’d thought July would be fun and filled with lots of Aspen sexy times. I’d looked forward to lazy mornings, rides in the car with my girl, and cuddling and more in the evenings. I was going to get a van and get it tricked out for camping—maybe with a wide moonroof so we could cuddle under the stars. Romantic crap like that.

Guess what happened?

Her brother happened.

Nate went apeshit on her parents while she was camping with me. I don’t know his motivation or the reason for his timing—since he’d seemed to keep it together at her graduation and the weeks after—but he ripped their asses a new one.

Aspen’s parents were now woke, and trying to be the world’s greatest parents instead of the neglectful asses they were. That translated into an entire month where I didn’t see my girl.

They whisked her off for trips all over the damn world: Europe, Singapore, Australia, a brief stop in Brazil for sentimental reasons (don’t ask me; I haven’t a clue why), and then off to some cabin they used to own in the mountains. It was supposed to be huge, and Aspen had been rallying to get me to come, but they’d been there the same weekend I had to go to Cain to look at apartments.

That was the other thing that happened—my plans for next year.

Soccer training started in early August, so I needed to get there and get situated. That also meant a conversation with Zeke about his true living aspirations. He wanted to rush a fraternity, but at first I’d thought he and I could get a place, and then if he rushed, that was fine. I’d have the place to myself.

But Zeke backed out, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to start out living with me. He got his ass reamed by his dad. That seemed to be going around.

A cop friend had been at the house, recognized the smells coming from Zeke’s room, and informed Zeke’s dad that if his son didn’t clear out his room, he’d be returning with drug dogs. Zeke got the wake-up call of all wake-up calls.

He lost Daddy Dearest’s funding for college, so as of end-July, Zeke wasn’t sure if he was still coming to Cain University or not. And it wasn’t a bluff. He’d lost everything—his trucks, his room (he’d moved into a closet-sized bedroom on the same floor as his parents, and no