“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“You’re thebest. I’ve already started recalibrating the XRF.”
I pull a U-turn, the M4’s tires gripping the road with perfect precision. Thoughts of Tara and fake dating are temporarily displaced by images of contaminated samples and ruined data. The geology building will be quiet this time of night. Just me and Kinsey and whatever strange patterns our mineral formations are showing.
Simple. Uncomplicated.
Unlike everything else in my life right now.
11
TARA
CC’s is weirdly empty for a Friday morning. I’m early—shocking, I know—nursing my peppermint tea and trying not to overthink the text Alfie sent last night.
Space Boy
Need to talk. CC’s tomorrow morning?
He shows up exactly on time ordering his black coffee and a muffin before sliding into the seat across from me.
“So,” I say, because someone has to break this silence, “enjoying your cup of bitter water?”
He stares at his coffee for a long moment. “Just this weekend.”
“What?”
“If”—he clears his throat—“if the offer still stands, will you be my girlfriend? Just for this weekend. I…fuck, Tar, IwishI could tell them tofuck offand leave me alone but I can’t. It’s complicated. I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’m notgood at this stuff.”
I’ve never seen Alfie Spencer flustered before. He’s always so controlled, so carefully put together. But now his hands are actually shaking a little around his coffee cup, and he’s stumbling over his words in a way that makes my heart ache. This is costing him something, asking for help. Letting someone see behind his mask.
“Okay,” I say softly, understanding now why he’s being so intense about this.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it. Operation Save Alfie From Arranged Marriage is a go.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but his eyes stay serious. “There’s one condition.”
“I have to pretend to be Australian? ‘Cause I can bloody do that, mate!”
He opens his mouth then shakes his head, some of the tension easing from his shoulders at my attempt to lighten the mood.
“No, and God, never do that again. This stays between us.”
I blink. “What, like, completely?”
“I don’t...” He bites his lip. The gesture is so uncharacteristically nervous. Alfie Spencer, who never shows weakness, is literally squirming in his seat. “I don’t like people knowing about my family. About that whole world. It’s messy and I prefer to keep it private. Plus, this way it’s less likely that Troy will find out and make me eat my own ballsack.”
“But Alex is my best friend?—”
“Please.”
One word. Barely above a whisper. But somethingabout the way he says it makes me realize this isn’t about being secretive or difficult. Thismattersto him.
“Okay,” I agree. “Just us.”
He relaxes slightly. “Thank you. Freddie knows because we live together, and Ethan will probably find out now that he’s around this summer.”
