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Nine
~ Gage ~
We had decided to wait until after the semester for Nathan to officially move in, but he had spent every night in my bed for the past week.
Well, kind of.
I vaguely remembered finals week from my time in college, but watching Nathan pour through textbooks and stacks of lecture notes had been painful to witness. Fueled by a steady stream of caffeine and sugar, he pushed himself well beyond his limits until I had to forcibly drag him away.
He only had one exam left, and unfortunately, it happened to be in his least favorite subject.
“I want to design video games,” he whined. “Why do I have to learn Applied Mathematics?” Seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes and groaned. “I hate math.”
“I know, baby.” I placed a mug of heavily sugared coffee down in front of him and ran my fingers through his soft curls. “Just a little more suffering, and you’ll be finished.”
“Gage, I love you, but you are terrible at comforting people.”
Though his tone was sarcastic, warmth flooded my veins every time I heard those three little words. Eventually, the rush would fade, and the newness would settle into something deeper, more solid. But for now, I simply planned to enjoy our time together and take it one day at a time.
“Thanks, by the way.” He held the black ceramic mug up in a mock toast before tilting it to his lips.
It wasn’t that late, barely after seven, but he had a long night ahead of him. We both did, since I typically stayed awake to make sure he was fed and caffeinated while he studied. Well, that, and the fact that I was finding it increasingly difficult to fall asleep without him.
“Food will be here in about ten minutes.” Crouching behind him, I leaned forward to rest my chin on his shoulder.
He nodded distractedly as he flipped a page in his study guide. “What did you order?”
“Pizza.”
It was the third time that week, and while I usually preferred to cook, I just couldn’t tell him no. The past few days had been hell for him, and if pizza and chocolate made things even slightly better, so be it.
“Supreme?” he checked.
“Of course.” As long as it didn’t have pineapples or anchovies on it, I could eat just about anything.
His phone buzzed against the wood surface of the table, and the screen lit up with a picture of an angry dragon. His mother. Nathan tensed, and his fingers paused on the keyboard of his laptop, but he otherwise ignored it.
Senator Fairfax had called nearly every day since the fundraiser dinner. Any hopes I’d had that she wanted to apologize and mend their relationship had been quickly disabused, though. Nathan had spoken to her on just one occasion, and it hadn’t been a pleasant conversation.
After a ten-minute berating, she had threatened to suspend his credit card and withhold his tuition fees if he didn’t make an appearance at her campaign rally. That had been Sunday morning. By Monday afternoon, we had cut up his credit card, added his phone service to my plan, and made sure his tuition had been covered.
With some gentle encouragement, he had also agreed to change his phone number. A good idea in theory, but one with a less than desirable outcome. It had slowed the senator down, but it hadn’t stopped her. Two days later, the calls had started again.
She never texted, which I found telling. It reminded me of something my own mother had told me as a teenager.
If you don’t want a secret revealed, never write it down.
While I preferred to keep much of my life private, I didn’t necessarily have secrets. Still, her words had stuck with me. As a kid, most of my examples had come from books and movies. To this day, it was a popular trope to have secrets revealed through diaries, journals, scribblings on the back of photos, and handwritten letters.
Entering adulthood, I began to notice real-world implications of this wisdom, such as criminals being brought to justice because of text messages and emails.
In my opinion, Senator Fairfax was a criminal, but a smart one. Her entire image had been built on a foundation of lies about how much she loved and valued her son. She wouldn’t be careless enough to leave behind evidence to the contrary.
Yet, I had a feeling that arrogance and narcissism would eventually come back to bite her in the ass. Whether in a week or ten years, all it took was one slip of the tongue for everything to come crashing down.
I looked forward to it.
And if I was actively plotting a way to make it happen faster…that was my secret.
