Page 16 of The Classmate


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I take another breath and give him a rueful laugh. “You know what I realized, Dad? I’m not the problem. I never was. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I spin on my heel and slide my arm through Theo’s. A few steps farther and I hear him clear his throat.

“He won’t be able to give you the life you’re accustomed to. You know that, right?”

I’m about to answer him, but Theo puts his hand over mine and squeezes. He looks at my father over his shoulder. “I don’t have your wealth, sir. Maybe I never will. But you know how I’m better than you? Because I’ll marry her and make her so damn happy every single day of her life that she’ll never even consider leaving me. I haven’t met her—your ex-wife, Tess’ mother—but can’t say I blame her for walking away.”

5

THEO

“So, what do you want to eat?” I shift the gear to drive and look at her from the corner of my eye.

Tess giggles and pulls down the sun visor. She leans closer to the small mirror and wipes something from under her eye. “Why do you always ask me that?”

“It’s a long story.”

She nudges her chin to me and her mouth curves in a smile. “I have all the time in the world.”

For someone who tries to say as little as possible, I always feel like talking and telling Tess everything about my life. It’s like I want her in on every dark secret, every shameful thing that happened to me, every small stuff that made me who I am today.

“When I first arrived at the Tate’s, I was broken from the inside. I was angry at everyone and everything. Hate consumed me. Viktor tried to be friendly, but I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust their kindness. I knew I wouldn’t stay long because I only had afew weeks before I turned 18. Then, Mom came in and asked me what I wanted to eat.

“Something crumbled inside me. No one ever asked me that before. No one bothered because no one cared. I felt pathetic and weak at the time because of how such a simple question overwhelmed me.”

Tess put a hand on my arm, and I lifted it to my lips for a kiss. “Wait. Is this your love language? Asking me what I want to eat?”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “Please don’t tell anyone that. I have a bad boy freak reputation to uphold.”

Days after that confrontation with her father, Tess moved in with me. He cut her off, which didn’t surprise any of us. He cut off her cards and allowance and ordered her to leave her apartment. Good thing he already paid for her tuition, so she could graduate without any problem.

Viktor, after all the teasing, gave her a job at the bar working in the office, mostly just paperwork. After my shift would end, we’d go home together.

I’ve never known this kind of happiness, and I try not to think of what life will be like without her. That’s one thing I don’t want to find out. Getting to hold, touch, and kiss her anytime I want? What else could a man like me possibly want?

I already have the world at my fingertips. My whole world. My Tess.

It’sa typical Saturday night at the bar. Two men, fueled by testosterone and alcohol, try to exchange blows. And I say try because neither of them can even stand without staggering. One also ends up punching the air beside his opponent. It’s funny until it’s not.

Once their fists collide, I surge forward to intervene and grip their arms to physically restrain them. They sway and stumble on their own feet. The bouncers come rushing to us and grab each of the guys to throw outside.

I don’t mind drunks, but drunks who pick fights? Nah. Not on my watch. So many people come in here to chill and de-stress after a long day. The last thing I want is someone who can’t hold his drink making a scene and destroying furniture.

After righting the chairs and tables, I walk towards the bathroom for the staff. Closing the door behind me, I flip the switch, and the overhead bulb flickers, casting the small space with a weird warm glow that would look pretty trippy after a few drinks.

The walls are full of vintage band posters—courtesy of me—and neon graffiti—courtesy of Viktor’s eclectic artist friend. The bathroom may be too small for two people—totally intentional to prevent couples from making out—but it’s clean, as evidenced by the faint smell of disinfectant.

I turn the faucet on and wash my hands in the narrow sink. By instinct, I raise my head and look at my scar in the mirror, which is also small and with a couple of water spots.

I used to come in here, stare at myself, and feel an unhealthy amount of self-pity. Right now, though, there’s none of that. For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking forward to the future … with Tess by my side of course.

Pulling out a tissue paper, I wipe my hands and throw it into the trash below. Maybe I’ll take a quick peek at Tess and see if she’s not busy.

The moment I step out, the noise comes back full blast—the live feed from the soccer game, fans in the bar yelling, the glasses clinking. But I tune them all out because there, leaning against the wall and folding her arms over her chest, is Tess.

She’s wearing a black skirt that hugs her thighs, a white button-down sleeveless blouse with the top two buttons open, and a pair of black ballet shoes. God, how can she look innocent and tempting at the same time?

“Hi, kitten.”

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