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My father settles back in his bad, intently watching the small TV bolted to the wall near the ceiling. I don’t think he’s really interested in anything the news is reporting. I think he’s uncomfortable talking with me about this subject. None of that matters, and I’m not blown away and touched that he did the right thing for once. Pleasantly surprised? Perhaps. Shocked—definitely. But there is no big hug or pat on the back for having a conscience once in his entire life.
“Thanks,” I say, leaving it at that. I get up from my chair and drag it back to its place, knowing nobody is coming to sit in it after I leave. I scan the board on the wall, taking in the information I recognize. It looks as though he is going home soon. I’m sure he won’t follow a single order his doctor gives him. And he’ll probably be back here soon with another stroke, or a heart attack. I’ll deal with these feelings then. I’ve done enough today. No grand forgiveness, and our relationship is what it is. A very Bentley relationship.
And Toby Sullivan? He’s fucked.
* * *
I got Cameron to let me into the guys’ dorm. I feel a little strange walking through here alone. I haven’t done that since I was a third form, and I was super boy crazy. Anika and I once dared each other to kiss a boy on every floor in a race. She said I cheated because I kissed Theo for one of them, and she knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. But I kissed a few boys I wish I could take back now.
And then there’s the boy I refused to kiss, which is why Anika won. I knocked on Toby’s door, and something about his expression when he saw me said he knew I was coming, and he was waiting to make sure he was the one in his room who answered. It could have been Jake. I would have kissed Jake. Probably. But I saw Toby and then stepped back and said, “I quit.”
Maybe that’s why he sent me what he did. Or maybe he is just a real piece of shit. Either way, with Jeremy’s letter in my hands, I’m ready.
I knock on his door and lean against the wall outside. I know he’s in there. I can hear his music, and I saw his roommate Ethan leave for study hall before Cameron snuck me in.
He pushes the door open and pops his head out by stretching his neck, his snake-like smile spreading on his face when his eyes spot me to his right.
“Aw, Morgan. I thought I might hear from you,” he says.
I push my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, feeling the sharp edges of the envelope in one and my phone in the other. Toby shifts his weight, leaning against his door jamb and crossing his feet and arms. His expression is smug, sinister. It makes everything that’s coming sweeter.
“I don’t think you were expecting me.” I tilt my head to the side and temper my smile. I don’t want to give this away too quickly. It’s been a long time coming, and my father always did like the art of the reveal. I’m a bit like him in that respect.
We both revel in this little stare-down for a few seconds; Toby the first to break with a snicker.
“Come on, Bentley. What are you doing here? You come to let me know daddy is going to push me around if I don’t do what you want?” His nostrils flare as he puffs his chest. That’s fake bravado right there.
“Oh, fuck no. My daddy isn’t doing shit unless he can make a million dollars off of it,” I say. It’s a true statement.
Toby’s eyes narrow, his brow lowering.
“What’s your deal with the new guy? You slumming it?” That was a low dig, even for him.
“Ha! I’m pretty sure this conversation we’re having right now is me ‘slumming it.’” I give the quotey fingers and all.
“You broke code. Not my fault. And you of all people should know why we don’t leave campus,” he says. His sanctimonious lecture pushes me more than I’d like.
“Fuck off, Toby,” I bite back. “You leave campus all the time, and I don’t remember you really giving a shit last spring. You can kiss my ass.”
“Oh, I’ve wanted to,” he says, showing his tongue off through his teeth. It’s revolting, and it cuts my little dance with him short.
“Okay, here’s the deal, Tobes.” I step into the middle of the hallway, emboldened by the fact Cameron is waiting in the stairwell and will bolt in here if things go sideways. “I don’t know if you remember the night you were either exceptionally bitter about me denying you once or just plain fucking creepy, but do you remember this little beauty?”
I pull my phone from my pocket and open the image he sent me a few years back. Of his dick. Along with the one of him posing and flexing his scrawny, transparent arm in the mirror while holding his dick.
“I get a lot of these, and I save them all because you never know. Turns out, though, I maybe kinda knew about you.” I stop to let Toby have his moment, his eyes glued to my screen, my phone clutched in my hand. I can see his mind working as his eyes dart millimeters back and forth. He flits his gaze up to me and steps back with a laugh.
“Nobody will buy that,” he says.
“Oh, I think they will,” I muse. I cup my phone and slide to various screens where I have captured all of the steps, including the metadata behind him sending that image to me. I turn my phone around and let him have a good look as I scroll with my finger, flipping it like a nightmare slideshow cooked up just for him. It kinda is.
The tendons in his neck distend as he sucks in his breath and clenches his jaw.
“You’re bluffing. Besides, you couldn’t post that if you wanted to. I’d sue you so fast. It would be fun for my family to take your millions. All that money you made from smiling and pushing perfume and yoga shit.” He purses his lips with a faint smile, so proud that he thinks he’s insulted me.
“Yeah, I did make a lot of money talking about perfume and yoga shit,” I say. “But—”
I pull my second weapon from my pocket, opening the envelope and unfurling the letter Jeremy wrote for me. I hand it to him and wait while he reads, but after a minute I start to explain it to him because I know he doesn’t understand.
