I pace my room while waiting, watching Tara through my window as she sits in her car, head in her hands. Three rings, then:
“Young Mr. Spencer. This is unexpected. How can I help?”
“I need...” The words feel like glass in my throat. “I need the foundation's help.”
“Of course, sir. What seems to be the problem?”
I close my eyes, hating every word. “There's been an incident at the university. In the geology department. Some valuable specimens were damaged.”
“I see.” Harrison's tone remains neutral, professional. “And your involvement?”
“I was there. With someone. We didn't cause the damage, but there's security footage that makes it look like we did.” My free hand clenches into a fist. “The dean is meeting with us tomorrow morning.”
“And you'd like the foundation to intervene?”
“Yes.” The word tastes bitter. “Whatever it takes.”
A pause. “The foundation could make a contribution toward restoration efforts. Though I should warn you—even the Spencer name has its limits. The dean is quite... principled.”
“Just do what you can. Please.” I never say please to Harrison. We both know it.
“Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“Don't tell my father. I don't want—” I swallow hard. “Just handle it quietly.”
“Of course, sir. Though you know how he enjoys solving these little... problems.”
The Spencer Family Foundation made a very generous “donation” to the university's geology department this morning before the meeting. Dear old Dad's favorite way of solving problems, throw money at them until they go away. I hate myself for using it.And for what?
I thought the donation would at least get us off completely, make this whole mess disappear. But no, we still have to do the hours, still have to play along with their bullshit assumption that we caused the damage. If it had just been me in trouble, I’d have taken whatever punishment they dished out. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near my family’s money.
The irony? The real culprit is my lovable but frequently idiotic housemate. Ethan, drunk off his ass and convinced he’d found the building’s “party mode,” was the one who actually triggered the system.
The family lawyer spent hours arguing semantics. “Just kids being kids,” he’d said, like we were teenagers caught smoking behind the gym. “The university’s negligence in maintaining their security system is the true issue here...”
It didn’t matter. They had their footage, their culprits, their story. All my father’s money bought was a reduction in punishment and the guarantee it wouldn’t go on our permanent records.
I don’t tell any of this to Freddie. Not because he’d judge, the guy’s got a better heart than most, but people get weird about money. I’ve seen it enough in my ownfamily, watched how it twists everything it touches. It brings darkness and fuckery and all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. My friends here at UMS... they’re separate from that world. Clean. I want to keep it that way.
“So...” Freddie’s voice has that tone I hate, the one that says he thinks he knows something. “More time with Tara.”
I grunt in response, but apparently that’s enough encouragement.
“You guys kissed,” he states.
I keep my face neutral despite my surprise. “Alex?”
He nods, and I scrub a hand over my face. Of course, Tara told Alex, and of course, Alex told Freddie. The most predictable game of telephone in history.
“These fucking girls,” I mutter. “Yeah, we kissed.”
Freddie’s grin spreads slowly, like he’s just won something. “So, you like her.”
“No.” The denial comes too quick, too sharp. “I don’t like her.”
“Right.” His voice is heavy with skepticism. “You just liked her enough to kiss her. Even though you know you’re risking genital mutilation from Troy.”
“I’m going to hit you in a minute.”
