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“I did!” She took a menacing step towards him, realizing too late that she’d fallen for the bait, and she rolled her eyes as he burst out laughing. “Yeah, yeah, very funny. We’ll see who’s laughing when the results come out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Archer said with a shrug. “I nailed it. Incredible work. I wouldn’t be surprised if I got the university’s first perfect score.”
“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.” She grinned at him, finding herself yet again suppressing the temptation to say something genuinely nice to him. It was unsettling, how often that urge had been rising up in her. It was getting harder and harder to remind herself what a jerk he was. It didn’t help that he’d genuinely seemed to have made a major change to his life this semester. Compared to the Archer she’d met last term, she hardly recognized the man who’d studied hard each day and dedicated himself with single-minded intensity to making sure their assignment was the best it could be. “I bet you were too distracted thinking about tonight’s party to finish your essay, anyway.”
“Tonight’s party has been under control for weeks,” he said dismissively. She’d been surprised to learn that the Dean had asked Archer to help out with the arrangements for the official end-of-semester celebration. Planning the full moon parties down on the beach was one thing, but it was a mark of major respect that he’d been involved in such a formal school event—one that involved not only students but their families and loved ones, too. She’d done her best to congratulate him in their roundabout way, but she wasn’t sure how successful it had been.
At any rate, there was a bit of time between now and then. Morgan bit her lip, glancing sidelong at Archer, whose eyes were on the far horizon. He’d seemed a little preoccupied all week, actually. It made sense for these exams to have been weighing on him. She had a feeling she knew what might take his mind off the subject, though. “Hey, I want my notes back,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs. “The ones you’re keeping hostage in your room. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll drop them over later. I’ve got to pack my room down this afternoon anyway.”
She frowned. Hadn’t they established this code by now? Why was he being deliberately obtuse? “Obviously I don’t care about the notes,” she said, taking a pointed step into his space. “But I’m coming to your room togetthe notes.” She tilted her head. “Wait, are you moving dorms? Why are you packing your room up?”
“This was my final exam,” he said softly, gesturing to the building behind them. “I meanfinalfinal. I’m not coming back next semester.”
“What?” Morgan felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “But how—you can’t have failed anything. The results haven’t even been posted yet. And besides, you—you studied. I saw you, I know how hard you worked, I don’t believe—”
“Relax, Morgan. It’s not my grades. I got a letter from my dad.” He was smiling at her, but she knew a mask when she saw it. She frowned, letting her eyes unfocus, but her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach and she couldn’t seem to draw his aura into focus. “He said he’s gotten letters from all of my teachers telling him how much my work ethic improved this term. He’s taking me on at the company.”
“You’re going to take over the business instead?”
He shook his head quickly with a slightly bitter laugh. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. No, he’s offering me a trial position—basically an internship, but I’d imagine with even fewer perks.”
“You haven’t even been here a year,” Morgan said faintly. She couldn’t believe this. Every time she thought about the second semester, she’d assumed Archer would be hanging around in the background somewhere. The thought of coming back to school without him was just… unthinkable. “Do you want to go?”
“I mean…” He shrugged. “My dad’s never expressed this much faith in me before. I kind of have to take the opportunity. Besides, it wasn’t really the kind of letter that was asking my opinion, you know?” He exhaled. “But I wanted to thank you. I’d never have made it through this term without you.”
Morgan was reeling. She swallowed hard, realizing that they were still in public, that there were people all around them… and suddenly, she felt embarrassed that she’d let herself react so strongly. “Definitely not,” she agreed, her voice not quite as steady as she’d have liked. “You owe all your success to my guidance. You should offer me a cut of your paycheck.”
He huffed laughter. “Bold of you to assume I’ll be getting paid.” His voice softened a little. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’m sure you will.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I, for one, am looking forward to having a bit of peace around here.”
The joke didn’t land. There was a brief, horrible pause before Archer offered a forced little laugh. Then he was gone, heading through the crowds of relieved-looking students in the direction of his dorm… presumably to get started packing. Morgan watched him go, feeling her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach.
Chapter 24 - Archer
Archer felt like a robot as he straightened his tie in the mirror. This outfit was going to make his father … well, not proud, that was out of the question, but there were definitely less reasons for disapproval than usual. He’d chosen his most boring suit, his most ordinary tie, his most perfectly polished shoes. He’d even gone as far as restraining his hair, pulling it off his face and into a bun at the back of his head. His father wouldn’t approve of the style, of course, and what he really should have done was get it cut sometime that week, but somehow, he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to go quite that far. Not yet, anyway. He’d enjoy his last few days of freedom, then get it cut the morning of his first day at work.
He felt like he was climbing the steps of the gallows as he headed for the Great Hall. He should have been thrilled, he knew that. Hadn’t he spent most of his time at this stupid university wishing desperately that he could be anywhere else? And working at his father’s company, that was a huge step forward for him. That was the closest thing he’d ever gotten to approval from his father. Sure, he was probably going to be doing pointless busywork and fetching and carrying drinks for people for the first decade or so, but still… allowing him to actually be there was a huge step up. And working there would mean he was free to return to his favored lifestyle. On the weekends, at least.
Still, there was a leaden weight in his stomach as he headed for the Hall. It didn’t help that he had to walk through about a million happy family reunions on his way there. Every time he turned a corner, it felt like he ran into another smiling, proud father hugging his son or daughter and congratulating them on their success. They hadn’t even gotten their results back, Archer thought irritably. What was there to celebrate? Of course, that didn’t matter, did it? For normal families, just going to university and working your hardest was cause enough for celebration. His heart burned with envy at the thought, and he forced his mind away from the subject. He had to focus on getting through this party tonight. Once the party was over, his obligation to the school was over, and he could focus on the next chapter of his life.
A few decades, that was all it would take. A few decades of grinding, of bending over backwards to impress his father, and maybe the old man would be able to see his way clear to… what? Letting him run the company alongside him? Certainly not. Grant didn’t trust anyone to make the kinds of decisions about the company that he made. And he’d made it clear he was never retiring, hadn’t he? That was part of the deal. When you worked for Grant, you were signing up to work with him forever. No future beyond that horizon. Archer leaned against the wall and breathed, just for a moment, until his head stopped spinning.
It was just after sunset when he reached the Hall, and a quick glance around told him that the changes he’d suggested had been executed with great success. Gone were the huge, imposing wooden tables, stored presumably in one of the building’s many storage rooms… instead, the Hall was open for people to stand and mill about as they chose, with long low benches placed occasionally so that people might sit if they needed to rest. It made the hall infinitely less crowded and stuffy, and with the huge doors at either end standing open to let the night breeze move through the hall, it was downright pleasant. He’d also seen to it that a small orchestra had been arranged to play for the evening. It was an easy way to elevate an event, and he could tell from the expressions on people’s faces as they took in the Hall that it was having the desired effect.
It was difficult to care much about the event, though. He’d done most of the planning before the arrival of the letter from his father, and once he’d learned that this end-of-semester celebration would be taking place on his last night at the school, the whole situation had just felt too sad to engage much more with. Blaming his exam stress, he’d bowed out of the preparations for the last stretch. They’d gone along with most of his suggestions anyway, but he did grimace when he saw the Dean standing up on the raised stage area at the front of the hall, calling for quiet. He’d definitely have recommended against speeches. With everyone standing as they were, it seemed a little unfair to demand their patience through speech after speech… it didn’t matter, he told himself firmly. None of this mattered. He was never coming back to this place again after tonight, the whole building could be swallowed by the volcano for all he cared.
To his relief, the Dean kept his speech blessedly short and to the point. Some heartfelt thanks to the families and friends of the students who’d supported them through the term, some congratulations to all of the students who’d bravely attacked their exams this week, and a twinkly-eyed reassurance that the exam results wouldn’t be posted until the following morning, so there was no sense worrying about it tonight.
“My last piece of advice to you all for the semester—assume the news is good until you have reason to think otherwise,” the Dean called, winning a murmur of laughter and an enthusiastic round of applause from the assembled guests. And then he was gone from the stage, Archer pleasantly surprised by how short the formal section of the evening had been.
He moved through the crowd at random, nodding and smiling to the friends he recognized, avoiding staying in any one place for too long. Aside from Morgan, he hadn’t told anyone else that he wasn’t returning to the school next semester. He’d rather have that be a surprise, if he was honest. He’d always hated goodbyes. Telling Morgan he was leaving had hurt so badly that he was surprised he was still standing. But what had he expected? For a moment there, when she’d first realized what he was telling her, he’d almost thought… but no, she’d just been a little surprised. She didn’t care whether or not he was leaving. And why would she?
He was halfway across the hall when he felt a soft touch on his elbow, turning to find his mother standing there, those perpetually faraway eyes half-focused on his face. She had a habit of fading into the background even when you were looking straight at her, his mother. There was something almost supernatural about it. He’d always wondered if it was intentional, or even something she was aware of … if he’d had such a skill, he’d have used it to eavesdrop. But that wasn’t the kind of conversation he’d ever had with his mother.
“There you are, Archer,” she said, her tone faintly disapproving. “Your father and I were about to start searching for you.”
