I understand Troy’s point and he’s right, the people there do usually suck. But it’ll be good for her. She needsto see that side of things, learn how to handle herself around people.
But another part of me, the part that remembers some of the people I’ve met at these kinds of places, wants to keep her far, far away from them. She is too good for them. From people who’d try to dim her light just because they can.
“I’m sure she can handle herself,” I say instead of voicing any of this. Because Troy doesn’t need to hear my complicated thoughts about his sister, and I don’t need to examine why I’m having them in the first place.
He nods and passes me the neatly rolled joint. I take a drag.
“Hey, while I’m gone... keep an eye on her? Just, you know, make sure she’s okay?”
The irony of him asking me, the guy who was making out with her two nights ago, to protect her isn’t lost on me.
“She’s been through some shit,” he continues, staring into the darkness. “With guys, I mean. Won’t go into details, it’s not my story to tell. But her heart’s more fragile than she lets on.”
My chest tightens. “I didn’t know.”
“No one does. She acts so tough, you know? Like nothing can touch her.” He takes a long drag. “But I’ve seen her put herself back together too many times. After that thing—” he cuts himself off. “Just... she deserves better than guys who see her as some manic pixie dream girl or a challenge to conquer.”
The guilt hits harder now. Because whatever this thing is with Tara—this spark, this attraction—it can’t happen.Not just because she’s Troy’s sister, but because she deserves better than someone like me. Someone who can’t even handle his own family drama. Someone who’s probably just attracted to her because she’s everything the Spencers would hate—bright and loud and unapologetically herself.
“I’ll look out for her.” I promise. And I mean it, just not in the way he thinks.
“Good.” He stands, stretching. “Because you’re my best friend, but she’s my blood. And if I have to choose?—”
“You won’t have to.” Another lie to add to the pile.
Inside, Ethan yells something about starting a new game. Troy heads back in but pauses at the door.
“Just... watch out for her at that club, yeah? Luzia attracts a certain type. Rich entitled assholes who think daddy’s money means they can do whatever they want. I don’t want her around that shit.”
The description hits too close to home.Isn’t that exactly what I am? A rich kid playing at being normal?
“I know the type.”
“Yeah, well, make sure they stay away from my sister.”
I nod, already knowing I’ll be finding excuses to check on her at Luzia. Already hating myself forwantingto.
Sixty hours of community service with Tara. Sixty hours of pretending I don’t remember how she tastes like cherry lip gloss. Sixty hours of protecting her from everyone except myself.
I am sofucked.
The house feelswrong without Ethan and Troy. They finally left this morning. They’re both coming back a couple times over summer, but for now it’s too quiet, too empty. At least Freddie’s decent to live with, the guy’s got discipline, keeps things tidy. Makes it easier to think when everything’s in its place. I love Freddie like a brother. We get each other, I think. He sees more than he lets on and he cares about shit too fucking deep.
I’m filling him in on the dean’s verdict, and he’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week.
“Dude, trust this place to have the most insane policy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “They think you broke in, set off sprinklers, destroyed hundreds of samples... and their solution is community service? That’s some seriously chill disciplinary action.” Freddie wipes tears from his eyes. “Like, ‘Oh, you destroyed thousands in research? Here’s a trash picker, have fun!’”
“Yeah, it's not too bad, I suppose.” The lie tastes like ash. What I don't tell him is about the phone call I made yesterday—the one that cost me what was left of my pride. But seeing Tara on my doorstep that Sunday morning changed everything.
I've seen Tara Hawkins in a lot of states. Laughing, arguing, dancing at parties, but I'd never seen her scared before. All the sunshine was drained from her face. The email she showed me had snapshots of security footage from that night. Crystal clear shots of us in the hallway, my hands in her hair, her back against the display case. Then we disappear from frame, and seconds later, the sprinkler system activates. To anyone watching, it's a simple equation: horny college students plus making out equals destroyed research.
And fuck, I knew I'd do anything to see her laughing again. Which is how I found myself making a call I swore I'd never make.
“Spencer Family Office, how may I direct your call?”
“It's Alfie Spencer. I need to speak with Harrison.” My voice comes out tight, controlled.
“One moment, Mr. Spencer.”
