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“Style …?”
“Sneaking around. Dating the boss. Running off to Mexico, you punk. You were supposed to leave the country for the first time with me, bro. It’s why we got passports together!”
I shrug, then turn to stare out the window, defeated. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Elijah. My whole life is fucked.”
After a moment, he sits back down on the bed, inviting the springs to squawk again. “You … should probably know what happened after you left.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“The moment after you tore out of that office like your pants were on fire …”
“It wasn’t my pants. It was my face, from the humiliation.”
“Rebekah was first to take charge, ordering everyone to hand over their phones. Even Hawk. Oh my God, if I could describe the look on his face at being told what to do by the short, tight-bunned Rebekah—Hah!” He claps once, hooting. “Anyway, I saw there was a guy who was slipping off to the bathroom, hands in his pockets like he was hiding something. A certain someone. Brady.”
“His phone,” I mumble, catching on. “It was him.”
“Pissed off as I was at you, I didn’t like the way he slipped off so fast. I went straight to Rebekah and told her he’d gone off to the bathroom the moment she asked for everyone’s phones. When he came out a minute later and played his big innocent eyes, I knew he’d done it. So did Rebekah, I think, but there was no trace of a video on his phone. He must’ve sent it to himself, or shot a few photos over to one of our media outlets. He’ll be caught, Trevor. I know it was him. It’s just a matter of—”
“Time,” I finish for him, expressionless. “Like how much time it’ll take for the whole world to know me as the boss-fucker. How can I go back to campus, even? They’ll remember in the fall. Even my professors. Classmates. Everyone. I’m so fucked.”
Elijah sighs. “Listen. Rebekah, she’s not stupid. I know she thinks it’s Brady, too. She doesn’t trust that pompous pineapple. But she likes you. That’s why she let me go early … so I could come be with you. I … don’t know where Mr. Gage went.”
“Why are you being nice to me now?” I retort, the first hint of emotion returning to my voice. “You acted like I was dead to you since yesterday. You avoided me in the office.”
Elijah sighs again, then crawls up the bed to sit right next to me. I adjust, giving him more room, but then he throws his arm over my back and pulls me against him like a brother, not letting me get away. “I was pissed at you, sure. I’m still pissed at you. But I never turn my back on my best friend, especially not when he’s gonna need me.” He faces me. “And you’re gonna need me.”
“Are things really that bad?” I ask, nearly in a whimper. “The headlines? The articles? Is it really as bad as I think it is?”
Elijah bites the inside of his cheek, not responding.
“Oh, God,” I breathe. “It is that bad.”
“I …” Elijah tries playing it off with a little shrug. “I think we just need to let some time pass. I mean, think about it. New shit goes viral every damned day. People have short memories. And—no offense—but Benjamin Gage is really the focus of the whole scandal. He’s the one this will affect for quite some time. You’re … well, you’re just the intern.”
“Just the intern,” I echo, suddenly feeling very bad for Ben.
“Rebekah really feels a lot for you. I wasn’t kidding. Boy, have you gotten her all soft on you these past few weeks,” Elijah teases. “She had the biggest look of sympathy in her eyes when she told me I could go ahead home to look after you.”
“I still don’t think I deserve your kindness.”
Elijah turns his face to me, his lips near my eye when he says, “You remember the day we met? It was on the playground in third grade. Some dicks were fucking with you, trying to shove sand down your shorts. I beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of them, got sent to the principal’s office, and earned a week of detention.”
“Oh, come on,” I interject, a bit of life revived into me at the memory. “You only served one tiny day of that week because the principal pitied you.”
“Felt like a week to me!” Elijah boasts. “And besides, I would have served that whole week if I could, because that’s what friends do. They stand up for each other … even when their buddy’s face is mining for gold up their boss’s ass.”
I shove at him for that, but he keeps me tightly held against him, uncaring.
“I feel like I could have stopped all of this,” he adds, a tinge of regret in his voice.
