Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(16)

He nudges the plate closer to me. “You’ve lost weight. Come on, get some real protein. They’re high in Omega fatty acids.”

There’s an edge to his voice, and I get it, I do. They haven’t seen me much this summer, both of them out of town, and I’ve lost weight since May. My hip bones protrude and my face is thinner.

“Try it, please,” he begs and I groan because I can’t resist his puppy dog eyes.

I grab my fork, pointing it at him as he takes the seat across from me. “Fine, but I’m not promising I’ll like it.”

He watches me with excitement as I poke the brown fish, get a tiny bit on my fork, stick it in my mouth, then wash it down with a sip of coffee.

“Well?” he asks.

Poppy stares at me intently, her hands clasped on the table as she leans over. “If you like it, I’ll try them.”

I gaze at them and emotion tugs at me, expanding more at the concern I read in their eyes. I’ve missed them this summer. The silence in the house ate at me greedily, especially when I came home from work filled with self-hate and loneliness. I really don’t have a family. I can’t depend on my mom anymore.

I take another bite and smile. “Sort of like sardines but milder.”

Poppy gags delicately.

I toss a fish at her and she shrieks.

“Your turn,” I say with a smirk. “Eat ’em up, love.”

She picks it up by the tail and stares at it like it’s a bug. Then sniffs it delicately.

“Boo!” Taylor says, and she starts and throws it up in the air. It plops back down on her cheek. Horror flits over her face as she shoves it to the floor, then looks at us and starts giggling.

I chuck it in the trash as Taylor gets her a new one to try.

We hover over her as she puts a microscopic piece in her mouth and chews.

She immediately hops up and spits it in the trash.

Taylor exhales dramatically. “I guess it’s an acquired taste.”

We laugh, and for the moment, I feel light, like everything is going to work out, but I know the big bad is coming.

Sooner or later, I’ll have to face Connor.





6





Eric





“Yeah, I think I did good,” I say to my dad as I drive back to campus. My head bangs like a monkey is inside clanging cymbals.

“You do?”

I clench the phone to stop from saying what I really think. That test might as well have been in Chinese. “Definitely. Why?”

My father lets out the standard sigh of disappointment. I’ve heard it so many times you’d think I’d be immune, but it cuts deep. “You said that last time. And you bombed it.”

“I know, I know.”

I hear the tapping of his pen against his desk, his tell that he’s irritated and wants to dig at me more. He used to do it when I was little and would pop by his home office to say hi. He’d tap his pen and tell me to go find Mom.

There’s an empty hole inside of me, and I keep thinking that if I try harder to be like Kurt, if I’m smarter, if I’m a lawyer, then maybe my parents will love me as much as they loved him.

Sure, I had basic needs met growing up, but my likes and dislikes? I bet my dad doesn’t even know my favorite meal. Brisket and roasted potatoes with olive oil. The cook knew. She made it for me all the time.

My parents rarely acknowledged my hockey achievements. They were irrelevant compared to Kurt’s GPA or his acceptance into Harvard Law.

Growing up like that is almost like rejection. It’s as if getting their love and attention was almost attainable, only to be yanked out from under you when you bring home a D on your report card.

Kurt came first. His needs. His wants.

I loved him. I was jealous of him.

“Curtis said that Parker aced his LSAT. He studied with the frat apparently. I’m sure he’ll be accepted anywhere he applies.”

Parker is a sonofabitch and can rot in hell. “Good for him,” I mutter.

He rustles papers around. “Did you ask the frat for help?”

My gut twists and the monkey bangs a little harder.

“Yep.” I don’t like to lie to my father. But he’s left me no other choice. Needs must.

He thinks I’m a Kappa. He was stoked when I pledged. Proud. The pats on the shoulder he gave me felt almost alien. Of course, Kurt was dead by then and I was all that was left.

I never told him I left the frat. In the three years I’ve been at Hawthorne, through luck and serendipity, I’ve managed to keep up the fa?ade. That first fall semester when I was pledging, he visited the Kappa house a few times, but hasn’t returned. I have Kurt’s pin in my room. If worse comes to worse, I can wear it in front of him.

“This time I have a much better feeling. I knew what to expect.” More lies.

I need to tell him something. He sank a thousand dollars into a fancy LSAT prep class that was supposed to make me into a genius.

I did go to those meetings.

Did it work? Hell, no. I felt just as lost this time.

But the scores won’t be in for a few weeks. That will buy me some time.

“Tell me the second you get those scores, Eric.”

“Sure. How’s Mom doing—”

He hangs up without a goodbye.