Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(55)

“She does that a lot. You embarrassed her,” Lo says with an edging smile. Attention to my humiliation only brightens my shade of red.

“Can we just…go back to studying?” I pop open my Diet Fizz and sit on the other stool beside Connor.

“I like that plan,” Connor says. He turns to Lo. “You want to join? You could probably use it. You’re looking at a high sixty. And high or not, an F is still an F.” A high sixty? I frown. I should have known Lo wasn’t doing well in class and that he frequently skips others. The signs are there, but I’m too preoccupied in my own business to notice. Now that I do, I’m at a loss of how to help. I’m not even sure he’d appreciate my prodding.

“I guess I have nothing better to do,” Lo says.

I hide my surprise, which quickly turns to pride. I want nothing more than Lo to succeed, and that actually means he has to try on his own terms. Baby steps.

By the evening, my skills rest at a solid C-status, and Lo is in the mid-B range. Connor looks pleased and actually smiles when he grades my problem sets now. Lo pries off the top of his twelfth beer, not hiding the fact that he consumes alcohol a little too regularly. When he switches to bourbon, he rejects his thermos and pours it into a clear glass. I thought Connor would make a comment about Lo’s drinking habits, but he never says a word. The only time he brings up alcohol is to ask for a second beer.

Twenty minutes later, Connor gathers the work books together in his arms, balancing a large graphing calculator on top.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask, fumbling in the basket by the foyer for my checkbook.

“Save your money. I’d rather write these hours down as voluntary. It gives me more community service credentials.”

Lo smiles into a swig of beer, more amused than peeved. In fact, he’s taken the rude comments pretty well. Maybe he finds Connor endearing like me. Or as endearing as a pretentious honor student can be.

“Halloween is tomorrow,” Lo addresses Connor. “Do you know any good costume parties? Lily wants to go to one.”

He’s considering going out? I almost jump up and down in excitement. “It’s Lo’s birthday,” I add quickly, too thrilled to hold it in.

Lo shoots me a dark look, but I smile. Nothing can bring me down. Not if we’re finally going to a party as a couple.

Connor flashes his pearly whites. “Your birthday is on Halloween? That’s fucking awesome. As for parties, I know about five people throwing them.” Not surprising. Connor has made it quite clear that he has many connections, pocketing them everywhere he goes. “I wasn’t planning on going since most of the hosts are affluent pricks, but I’ll make an exception and take you both to the least shitty of the bunch.”

“Why make an exception for us?” I ask. Then my face lights up. “Am I your favorite student?”

He shakes his head. “Hell no. But you did pad my resume, so don’t go finding another tutor. And honestly…” His eyes dart between Lo and me with a growing smile. “Fizzle and Hale Co., you both still haven’t realized who I am. And I have a good feeling you wouldn’t give a shit if you knew.” He wanders, books in arms, towards the door. “Good luck tomorrow. I’ll call you, Lily, about the party.”

Lo turns to me and with the tilt of his head, he says, “Who the hell is Connor Cobalt?”

I feel like I should know.





{15}



One Google search later, we find information regarding our new friend.

Richard Connor Cobalt is the son of a multi-billion dollar corporation that owns smaller companies involved in paints, inks, and magnets. Unlike Hale Co., Cobalt Inc. brands their products with the smaller subsidiary names like MagNetic and Smith & Keller Paints. So I feel a little less stupid for not realizing his family’s prestige.

And Connor is right. His wealth doesn’t change my perception of him. He may be using us to solidify a spot at Wharton, but he does so through tutoring, not badgering me for a reference from my father. If anything, I think more highly of him. He could ride his name all the way to the top. I’m sure he does take advantage of his connections, but there’s genuine hard work and drive to be the best.

Also, if Connor willingly spends 48 hours cramming for a random girl, without monetary compensation, I wonder how many close friends he actually has. Maybe none.

After my test, I take a seat in a comfy, slightly overused, chair in the chatty study lounge. I dial my sister’s number.

One ring passes before she answers. “What’s up?” Background noise crackles through the speaker. “Hey, watch it!” Rose yells at someone. She puts the receiver back to her ear, her voice more present. “Sorry. I’m walking on campus, and some asshole threw a Frisbee at me. I’m wearing heels and a fur coat. That does not scream, I want to play.”

“He probably thought you were cute,” I say with a smile.

“Yeah, well I’m not a dog that will jump up at the sight of a toy.” She sighs heavily. “Why’d you call? It must be important.”

“It’s not,” I say.

“I just assumed, since you were the one to initiate the call.” She sounds a little distracted.

“If now’s a bad time, I can call later.”

“No, no, no. I’m just crossing traffic. Cars will hit pedestrians even if we use crosswalks. You know how it is.” That I do. Reckless driving and too many bodies trying to reach the other side of the street—it makes for a very dangerous combination.