A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(14)

“Can I talk to Mom?”

“Oh, I’m not with her. I’m currently in Boston, on business. I’ll head home Friday. You should call her. She probably misses you.”

“I was just with you guys this weekend.” I arrived on campus yesterday afternoon, after spending all of Thanksgiving break with my parents.

“We always miss you, darling. Especially your mother. You know how needy she gets.” I do. And she doesn’t necessarily need me—she needs him. Not that he notices. “How was school?”

I give him a brief rundown, careful not to mention anything about Crew or Fig and Maggie. This day has been unlike any other day I’ve had so far at Lancaster Prep.

And I’ve had a lot of days here. I didn’t expect my senior year to take such a dramatic turn, and so quickly. It’s all drama I’m not necessarily involved in too, which is odd.

I don’t usually find myself in the middle of drama.

We talk for a few minutes more before I hear a soft feminine voice say, “Harvey, let’s go.”

“I’ll talk to you later, darling. Just wanted to give you the good news. Make sure you tell all of your friends. Love you.” He ends the call before I can say goodbye.

I set my phone on my desk, staring at it. Who told my father it was time to go? A business associate? His assistant? I know he has a new one, though I don’t remember her name.

Or was it another woman?

He’s been known to cheat. Men as powerful as my father always seem to, which is disappointing. Maybe that’s why loyalty is so important to me. Maybe that’s why I’m afraid to get involved with any boy.

The boys never seem to stick around. And most of them can’t be faithful, like it’s in their DNA or something. They become so easily bored, so quickly. It’s as if once a girl gives it up to them, they’re ready to move on.

Look at Figueroa and Maggie. It’s obvious they’ve been involved for a while, which is almost too much for me to comprehend. He’s taking such a risk, getting involved with a student. The rumors have been rampant about him for years—even before I started attending Lancaster, but it’s never been officially confirmed.

That little confrontation I observed was definite confirmation. Maggie was furious. I wonder if she truly thought Fig was trying to make a move on me? I don’t think he was. I just think he was being kind. He felt bad for me because he caught me crying in the hall, and I’ve heard plenty of times that men don’t like tears. My father never has.

Men. I don’t understand them.

Suddenly craving a snack, I pull open a desk drawer and pull out a Blow Pop, tearing off the wrapper and tossing it in the small wastebasket before I pop it into my mouth. I suck on the sweet cherry candy, the burst of sugar coating my mouth.

My one major indulgence that’s not healthy for me. I watch what I eat and drink, but I have a sweet tooth. I love candy, especially lollipops.

There’s a sudden knock on my door and a booming voice sounds from the other side. “Beaumont! You have a visitor!”

I lean back in my chair, surprise rippling through me. Who could want to visit me? We’re allowed visitors in the common room of the dorm building, which is on the first floor and near the front desk where our RAs sit with their all-seeing eyes. Visitors are the occasional townie or boys. Boyfriends. Lots of couples hang out in the common room after school.

I don’t have a clue what that’s like. I’ve never hung out in the common room with Sam, and he’s my closest male friend. If we do anything together, it’s during lunch, or we go to the library.

“Thank you. I’ll be right down!” I call to the person who’s probably already taken off.

Rising to my feet, I go to the full-length mirror, holding the lollipop in between my fingers as I contemplate myself. Popping the sucker in my mouth, I tuck my shirt deeper into the waistband of my skirt before I run a hand across my hair to smooth it out. I ditched the jacket the moment I got in my room, and I was about to change into more comfortable clothes before my dad called.

This will have to do.

I skip down the stairs, since I’m only on the second floor, not bothering to take the old, iffy elevator. That thing breaks down more than it actually works.

When I enter the common room, I come to a stop when I see who’s leaning against the back of one of the old couches. His long legs are crossed at his ankles, and he’s still wearing his uniform, though he ditched the jacket just like I did.

Crew Lancaster.

He’s got his head bent, staring at his phone, his golden-brown hair tumbling across his forehead. The tie is gone too, a few buttons undone at the top, revealing the strong column of his throat. Offering a glimpse of his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and my gaze drops to his forearms. They’re corded with muscle and dusted with golden hair and an unfamiliar, weird feeling starts to pulse low.

Between my legs.

I try to ignore the sensation as I watch Crew, sucking hard on the candy in my mouth. He’s not even doing anything but standing there, and he still exudes an authoritative aura.

Like he owns the place.

Which he does.

I lightly clear my throat and his head jerks up, his blue eyes meeting mine and I just stare at him.

His gaze drops to my lips, noting the lollipop stick, and I grab it, pulling the sucker from my mouth. “What do you want?” I ask him, my tone haughty, trying to hide the nervousness currently twisting my insides.