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“Oh.” Connor thought for a second, then shrugged. “Even better. She’s salt of the earth. Can you just see me bringing her home to meet my parents? They’ll eat that shit up.”
I glanced around at him. “What are you talking about?”
“They’re on my ass, Wes.” Connor absently took up Autumn’s half-full pint of cider. “They think I’m just fucking around out here, not getting serious about anything.”
“Because you are fucking around out here, not getting serious about anything.”
“I know, I know. But I picked a damn major I’ll never use.”
Connor had picked Economics too, ostensibly so I could help him with the course load, but mostly because it was the only one his parents approved of.
“So drop out,” I said. “Open your sports bar.”
“You know they won’t release my trust fund until I graduate. And even then, I have my doubts…”
“We’ve had this conversation a hundred times,” I said. “Forget the trust. Take out a loan and do it yourself.”
“Sure. Because walking away from six million dollars is that easy.”
I shrugged. “I don’t see how Autumn helps your case. If you’re only using her to impress your parents…” I tossed a dart. Eighteen. “That’s messed up.”
“I wouldn’t. But she’s not like anyone I’ve dated before.” He sipped her cider and made a face. “Holy shit, this pear-water got her drunk? That’s cute as hell.” He chuckled. “I really like her.”
I froze. “You do?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t?”
I clenched my teeth. Who wouldn’t?
My dart flew.
Bullseye.
Weston
“Goddamn,” Connor grumbled as he came out of his bedroom in flannel pants and an undershirt the following Friday morning. He tossed his cell phone onto the designer couch his parents had bought us. “It’s too damn early in the morning for their bullshit.”
I looked up from where I knelt by the front door, tying my running shoes. “Whose bullshit?”
Connor yawned, scrubbed his hands through his dark hair. “Dear Mom and Dad have decided that they want monthly reports on how I’m doing in my Econ classes.”
“What for?” I tied my other shoe, then bounced up and down on the balls of my feet to warm up.
“To make sure I’m not fucking it up. What else?” Connor yawned again and squinted tiredly at me. “Christ, Wes, it’s not even light out.”
“Ten miles, rain or shine,” I said.
“I know, but I’m usually not awake to witness it. I’m exhausted just looking at you.”
“I think jealous is the word…”
He snorted a laugh. “Seriously, though. I’m screwed. I suck at math.”
I leaned on the console table near the door, arms crossed, giving him my full attention. “Exactly what did they say?”
“They said I needed to demonstrate responsibility. And to prove that I can apply what I learn in Econ, and that I didn’t choose it as my major only because you did.”
“Busted.”
