Tuesday morning, Eric and I both woke up around five a.m., blearily greeting each other in the kitchenette as the sun was just starting to peek through the blinds.
"Morning," Eric said as he rubbed a pale hand over his half-asleep face.
He turned to the counter to begin his daily regime of coffee. In a kitchen that was otherwise quite bare, Eric had the full setup: a special countertop kettle that heated water to the exact temperature that was supposedly ideal for making coffee, a glass pour-over device that looked more fitting to a nineteenth century laboratory than a twenty-first century kitchen, and a selection of local coffee beans that had all been roasted within the week.
"Morning," I said as I set my very regular kettle on the stove to boil the old-fashioned way.
I rummaged around a cupboard and pulled out my favorite travel mug and a box of cheap Irish Breakfast tea.
We had both turned in early the night before, after Eric had come home from a date of some sort (if you could even call his rendezvouses dates. I had yet to hear a single one referred to by name). He wore a pair of jogging pants and a white T-shirt: comfortable, casual wear for the several hours we would be spending at a test prep facility. I had pulled on something equally lazy: my favorite old jeans and a T-shirt that said "I'll be Bach" across the front. Eric looked at it and snorted. Yeah, okay, so I was a music nerd.
"I hate this," I griped for the fifth time in the last twenty-four hours.
Eric, too tired to formulate a full sentence, just grunted in agreement.
We were both up at the crack of dawn because Sterling Grove, Eric's new firm (which also happened to belong to Brandon), and Kiefer Knightly paid for their new associates to attend the same bar prep class. This was Eric's second day on this schedule; I had missed our morning class yesterday to go to Kiefer Knightly.
It was supposedly the best prep program in Massachusetts, and its attendees had an over ninety-percent pass rate. The bad news was, it was in Andover, a town about twenty-five miles north of Boston. That would have been a half-hour commute by car, but, like most recent students who lived within Boston city limits, neither Eric nor I had a car. That meant that we were looking at an hour commute each way, not including wait and walk time, for a class that started right at eight a.m. each morning.
Like zombies, we moved around the kitchen in tandem, sipping on our caffeinated beverages while we packed snacks and cleaned up. Then we grabbed our book bags, threadbare from three years of hard use at Harvard, and left to be students for the last time.
~
The test prep center was in an unassuming office park about a mile from the Andover train station. We arrived about fifteen minutes before class, with Eric in a dark mood after realizing just how hot it was going to be schlepping between the station and the classroom every day in the heat of summer.
"This is bullshit," he said again as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Like me, Eric turned bright red when he exerted himself. "I look like I just ran a marathon. I'm going to have to bring a change of clothes every day on top of all the other crap."
I look on with amusement. But he also had a point––in another month, Boston would feel like a sauna pretty much any time of day, and this walk was going to get seriously uncomfortable.
We walked into the thankfully air-conditioned building and up the stairs to where our assigned classroom was. It was a relatively big class, with somewhere around fifty other recent law grads clustered in groups around large gray desks.
"Hey, Skylar!"
I looked to my left to see another friendly face, one that made my stomach drop. Jared Rounsaville was a classmate of Eric's and mine at Harvard. He was a nice, polite, WASPish-looking guy, with straight, light brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled a little at the corners when he smiled. He was starting a job at his grandfather's tax firm this year, although considering that his father was a sitting Congressman, it was also likely that he was planning a future in politics as well.
He was also someone I'd dated briefly and promptly blown off when I'd met Brandon. Running into Jared and his family at the symphony with Brandon at my side last February hadn't been my proudest moment, and I'd gone out of my way to avoid him on campus until we'd graduated.
"Hi, Jared," I said, leaning to accept a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
Eric watched the two of us with curious, raised brows, but his face quickly dropped into a neutral expression when Jared turned to slap his hand.
"How's it going, man?" Jared asked. "Are you guys..." He looked knowingly between me and Eric.
"No. No," I said emphatically when I realized what Jared was suggesting.
Eric's widened and he shook his head effusively. "Um, no. Just roommates."
Jared nodded, although he looked between us as if he was trying to figure out whether or not we were lying. Eric and I were basically making twin faces of disgust, so Jared relaxed.
"Huh," he said. "Well, that's wild, you two as roommates. You're at Sterling Grove, aren't you, man?" he asked Eric, who nodded. Jared turned to me. "Are you working there now too, Skylar?"
His big brown eyes blinked innocently, but we both knew it was a loaded question. If I had taken a job at Sterling Grove, the real question would be whether I had been hired by my boyfriend.
I cleared my throat. "Um, no. I took a job at Kiefer Knightly."
"Oh, cool. They handled my sister's divorce," Jared said. "Your boyfriend must have been disappointed though."
And...there it was. Eric shifted uncomfortably and stared at the generic gray carpet, but I was grateful he hadn't bailed.
"Um, well," I tripped over the words and crammed the bottom of my T-shirt inside my fist. "We're, um...I'm not seeing anyone right now."
Every word of the sentence stabbed me in the heart. But if Jared was happy, to his credit, he didn't show it.
"Oh," he said sympathetically. He reached out and patted me on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry to hear that. You two seemed to really be into each other that night at the symphony. I almost didn't even blame the guy for stealing you away."
Eric cleared his throat and looked around the room, but to his credit, he still didn't leave. I had to give it to him: however poorly he tended to treat his romantic interests, Eric was a decent friend.
"Yeah, well," I said in a low voice. I just wanted to stop talking about this. "Things change."
Jared opened his mouth to say something else when the instructor of the class entered the room. Everyone took their seats, and Eric and I grabbed one of the tables together. Jared took another next to ours, and pulled out the assigned book and a notebook. He smiled kindly when he caught me looking at him, but otherwise said nothing more for the rest of the class.
~
Four mind-numbing hours later, we filed down the stairs and out of the building with several hours' worth of homework and studying for tomorrow.
"I can't believe this," Eric groused as we started the long walk back to the train station. "This is more homework than I had in any of my courses last semester."
The sun was high in the sky by this point, and it was warm, even for early June.
"No one gets that much homework anyway during third year, so it's not really a fair comparison," I pointed out, earning a withering glance from Eric.
"First year, then," he said. "More than Torts. Top that, Counselor."
I chuckled. Eric was fun to rile up. It was a lot of homework, but that was to be expected. Studying for the bar exam was arguably the most critical step to becoming a lawyer. If we didn't pass, we were out of a job and for many, hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. This was a make-or-break kind of thing, and I intended to take it seriously.
"You'll get through it," I said. "I'll help."
A blue BMW compact pulled up beside us. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Jared smiling in the front seat.
"Hey, there, sports fans," he greeted us as he revved the engine. "Need a lift back to town?"
"Absolutely," Eric said, and we piled in.
I sat in the back while the boys sat up front, but as he drove, Jared would glance at me every so often through the rearview mirror.
"How're you doing back there, Skylar?" he asked. "I'm not making you carsick, am I?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm good, but thanks for asking. I didn't know you had a car."
"Oh, definitely. I wouldn't live without one. Otherwise you're stuck in the city, you know?"
I couldn't see Eric's face, but his back straightened considerably. A city boy through and through, Eric hadn't even gotten his license until just last year so he could drive with some girl out to Cape Cod for the weekend. Having similarly grown up in New York, I hadn't gotten mine until college, but had barely used it.
Jared pulled onto the freeway and I sat back in my seat to enjoy the drive. It was a really nice day; I was wishing I didn't have to spend the majority of it holed up studying.
"What do you think, Skylar?"
Jared winked broadly through the rearview mirror.
"Um, sorry," I stuttered. "What? I was lost in my thoughts."
"I'll say. I asked you three times what you thought of the upcoming local elections. Who are your favorite candidates?"
I blinked. "Oh. Yeah, honestly, I haven't really been following local politics. I don't even know who the candidates are."
Jared chuckled. "You and most people. That's okay, I can educate you."
I gave a weak smile. Jared and I had pretty opposite politics. His family was all old-money Libertarians, and from what little I knew of them, his father was the most conservative of them all. Mine, on the other hand, was a crazy amalgam of blue-collar New Yorkers who tended to vote Democrat if they voted at all.
"You all right back there?" Jared interrupted me again. "You seem pretty in your own world today."
His face was so frank and open that I couldn't help but smile back, genuinely this time. "Yeah," I said, "I'm good."
"Are you guys planning to take the train every day for the next two months?" Jared asked.
"Yes," Eric replied with obvious loathing. "I don't know why there are no decent classes actually in Boston. It's not like there aren't about four hundred J.D.s graduating every year here."
"How long does it take you to get to the prep center?"
"What do you think, Cros?" Eric asked, turning back at me. "Was it an hour or an hour and a half today?"
"Including getting to North Station and wait times for the train? Probably closer to two."
Eric turned back into his seat, shaking his head. "Bullshit," he muttered.
"Well, hey, if you guys need a ride..." Jared offered.
He glanced at me again in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. I smiled again, even though a part of me felt a little uncomfortable accepting his offer, considering our awkward past. I didn't like to feel indebted to anyone, and I knew that Jared wasn't really the type just to offer handouts, nice as he might seem.
"Absolutely!" Eric rushed in before I could say no. "Dude, you are a lifesaver. Seriously. We got gas money if you'll drive."
"Don't you live in Cambridge, though?" I asked, ignoring the glare I got from Eric over the seat back. "That's basically twenty minutes out of your way."
Jared grinned. "It's no problem," he said. "I get up early. Plus, company will make the commute more enjoyable."
"Well, there you have it," Eric said definitively. "Right, Crosby?"
"Sounds good," I murmured, not sure what else to say. Apparently, everything was settled.
"Sounds good," Jared echoed, and continued on to Boston.
~
I spent the rest of the afternoon mostly as I'd planned, lounging on my bed with my study materials and a cup of tea until I developed a kink in my neck that couldn't be rolled out. Time for a swim. I gathered up my things and grabbed my gym bag, eager to take a break.
Two hours later, I walked out of the gym and straight into Jared.
"Hey!" he said loudly, seemingly as taken aback by my presence as I was with him. "What's going on, stranger? I must be a lucky guy, running into you twice in one day."
I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and shifted uncomfortably in my flip-flops, which squeaked loudly under my still-wet feet. "Yeah, I guess. What are you doing in this neighborhood?"
Jared pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "My mom's got a thing for Mike's. She sent me into town to pick up dessert before I head to Newton for family dinner."
I followed his gesture toward the pasticceria. It was a famous spot, but also a place that held special memories for me, considering the number of times I'd been there with Brandon. I hadn't been there since moving to the neighborhood last week, and I probably wouldn't go for the foreseeable future.
It wasn't hard to imagine a dinner with Jared's family. I had only seen them in passing at various student events over the years, but everyone knew who his father was, a paunchy, bland-looking politician whose wife was clearly the source of Jared's good looks. I could see them all perfectly, surrounding a doily-covered colonial table, eating roasted chicken and mashed potatoes off pastel-colored china. They would look like a J. Crew ad while they tucked into their Italian cheesecake, which would probably be the most exotic thing at the table.
Don't be a bitch, Crosby.
"So, where are you coming from?" Jared looked over my casual leggings and the damp hair tied in a messy bun. "I'm going to guess the gym."
I nodded. "Yeah. Pool." I didn't know what else to say. The gym had worked out my muscles, but not my bad mood.
"So hey, I wanted to say again: I'm really sorry about you and Sterling."
My stomach clenched at the name. I had been trying not to think about him all afternoon, or the fact that I would have to see him again in three more days. Today had been a start in the process of moving forward with my life, hard as it was. I wasn't being destructive, but productive. The awkward conversations with Jared felt like the wrong direction.
"Thanks," I mumbled down at the pavement. "And hey, I'm sorry too. About, you know..."
"Blowing me off?"
I looked up prepared to see a frown, but Jared was grinning.
"Hey, it's okay," he said as he reached out to pinch my shoulder lightly. "It was only one date. You met someone else. It happens."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "And look how that turned out."
"Hey." Jared reached a tentative hand out and tipped my chin up to look at him.
The gesture made me feel like a child. His face was open and friendly, but his finger lingered on my jaw for just few beats more than it should have. It wasn't until it dropped that I relaxed.
"Friends?" he asked.
I smiled. "Sure. Friends."
"Good," he said. "Because I'm going to need some study partners until we take this friggin' test."
~
Later that night, I was video-chatting with Jane before turning in for bed. Although she was an hour earlier than me, you wouldn't know it by the way she was dressed, completely decked out for a night out.
"Aww, there's the adorably sweet studded bracelet I remember!" I teased, earning a grouchy glare through the screen.
"I have to dress even more punk now than I used to," Jane said as she adjusted some of the spikes she had painstakingly arranged in her short black hair, which no longer sported any of its bright-colored stripes. "The ASA makes me come into work to do clerical stuff in the afternoons, so I have to look all boring and professional."
"You're like hipster-punk Korean Superman," I told her. "You rip off your suit, and underneath is a graphic tee with Nancy and Sid."
Jane grinned and fixed her thick-framed glasses. She prided herself on her collection of quirky frames, which I guessed she also had to eschew for her more sensible work persona.
"So please tell me you're not going to give Jared a second chance?" she said, changing the subject. "We're talking Jared Rounsaville here. Human equivalent of white bread. Cheddar cheese. Unsalted potatoes. Not to mention his family basically makes a living out of robbing the poor to feed the rich."
I smirked. "I think you're just hungry."
"Not that hungry."
I shook my head and laid down on my pillow, positioning the computer so that it faced me. "Well, you don't have to worry about any funny business. It's just...I was surprised by how nice he was. I didn't exactly treat him that well after we went out. It's refreshing, you know? To see someone without a grudge."
"Hmmm. Is someone experiencing a bit of self-reflection?"
I made a face. "Maybe."
For all her snark, Jane's sympathy emanated through the screen. "Well, in your defense, it is a bit different. You didn't exactly insult Jared; you just never went out with him again. Brandon lied to your face and hid the fact that he was married."
I scowled and pressed my face into my pillow. "Don't remind me."
"'Fraid I have to, chickie. You made me promise. You need to figure out what you're going to say come Friday. Has he texted you since?"
I sat back up. "No." I fought and failed to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "Just a confirmation email from his assistant."
"Where are you meeting? His place?"
My scowl deepened. "No." Again, it was technically what I wanted, since I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to stand my ground in such an intimate environment. "She made a reservation at The Martin."
"Ooh, chichi," Jane said. "That place is seriously swanky."
"It's where he takes important clients," I muttered with no little resentment. I was being treated like one of Brandon's many business engagements, and I didn't like it. Not one little bit.
"It's probably his way of keeping his distance, Sky. Just like you asked."
"He kissed me in the middle of my workplace, Jane. That's not keeping his distance."
"Well, considering what you did on the roof, I'm not sure he was completely out of line on that one."
"Whose side are you on here?"
I harrumphed, and Jane chuckled as she stood up. Through the computer screen, she twirled, modeling an outfit that matched the T-shirt with black skinny jeans, combat boots, and wide studded belt.
"I have to get going, babe," she said. "Got my own fish to catch tonight."
"I don't know how you do it," I replied. "It's a Tuesday night. Don't you have class tomorrow too?"
Jane shrugged. "Everyone needs to let off steam. You swim. I Tinder. But don't worry, Mom, I'll be back before midnight. And no drinking on school nights."
I smiled. "Have fun and be safe. Miss you, Janey."
"Miss you too, Sky. And don't worry. Knowing Old Moneybags, you'll have him in the palm of your hand if you wear a skirt."
I laughed and said my goodbyes. But the pit in my stomach grew a little bit deeper. The problem with having Brandon under my spell was that I couldn't do it without falling under his.
~