I pretend to be very interested in a discarded coffee cup, but his voice carries.
“The Portugal trip isn’t—” He pushes his hair back. “No, I’m not being difficult.”
A longer pause. His fingers tighten around the phone.
“What do youmeanyou’ve already told the Bollingdons?” The edge in his tone makes me straighten. I’ve never heard Alfie sound like this – something between fury and desperation. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”
He paces a tight circle, his free hand clenched at his side. “I am well aware of your position.”
Whatever his mother says next makes him go completely still. When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear.
“Don’t. Don’t threaten me with Grandpa’s researchfunding.” He swallows hard. “You can’t just arrange people’s lives to be whatever you want.”
Another pause. His face goes carefully blank in a way I’m starting to recognize is him shutting down.
“Fine,” he says finally. “Yes. I understand.” He ends the call and just stands there, staring at nothing.
I should say something. Should probably pretend I didn’t just witness that whole exchange.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Want to take a break? I think there’s still some of that fancy coffee left in the lab.”
He looks at me like he’d forgotten I was there. For a moment, I think he’ll brush me off with his usual “I’m fine.” Instead, his shoulders drop slightly.
“Yeah,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. “That would be... yeah.”
As I lead the way to the lab, my mind races. I’ve never seen Alfie like this, his careful control is cracking around the edges. I think about the little I know about his family. I know he’s from some rich family down south, but as far as I’m aware, that’s about as much as any of us know.
Maybe that’s why, twenty minutes later, watching him stare into his coffee like it might hold answers, I find myself saying, “I could help, you know.”
“What?”
I’d be offended by his shock if I wasn’t equally stunned by my own suggestion. Maybe it’s because the apartment is too quiet with Alex gone, or because I keep checking my phone for texts from Troy oranyone.
“With your family situation. The whole”—I wave my hand vaguely—“marriage thing.”
He looks up sharply. “You were listening.”
“Kind of hard not to.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Look,I’m just saying – if you need someone to pretend to be your girlfriend, get them off your back...”
I expect him to shut me down immediately. To put his walls back up and tell me to mind my own business.
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he says finally. “My family, they’re...”
“Scary? Yeah, got that from the phone call.” I can’t help but scoff. “You haven’t lived through Hawkins’ family drama until you’ve watched cousin Brody try to convince Grandma that psychedelic mushrooms are the key to enlightenment over Thanksgiving dinner.” I shiver at the memory. “It gets weird.”
He chuckles, but there’s something dark in it. “Trust me, they’re worse.”
“Besides,” I say, blowing a strand of hair out of my face, “I can handle difficult situations. Just last night I dealt with a bunch of drunk guys causing shit outside Luzia.” I’m actually pretty proud of that, going out there alone, standing my ground and telling them all to get in a cab.
Something flickers across his face – Surprise? Interest? – before his expression closes off again. “Why would you want to help?”
Because you look like you’re drowning and I want to throw you a lifeline. Because I’m curious about your world.
Because I want to know why you look so haunted when you talk about your family.
Because maybe part of me wants to see what it would be like to be your girlfriend, even if it’s pretend.
Instead, I shrug. “Because that’s what friends do. Help each other avoid arranged marriages.”
