s this seat taken?”
I spun around to inform Von he was late but instead found Sam standing behind the next chair with a food tray in hand. It was a ridiculous question because I sat alone at a table meant for twelve. Dinner service had just begun, and it would be another half hour before the place filled up.
Before I could tell him it would be a really bad idea, he plopped down an overloaded tray. It would totally set me back if Hayden walked in right now, but Benson hadn’t covered this scenario in my training.
“Sorry about what happened today,” he said. He’d sent me an apologetic shrug at lunch, but that was our only communication since the picture had posted.
“Um, it’s okay,” I said, stirring my lentil soup and praying my roommate had decided to get dinner out of the vending machines. “I told Hayden you and I were just friends, and she was cool with it.”
“I knew she would be. I’m not that hard to get over,” he said with a laugh.
I shoveled in a spoonful of soup. It was the only way to prevent inappropriate questions about his relationship with Hayden from popping out… and then I grimaced. The soup tasted like hot, bland mush.
Sam slid over a few packets of saltines. “No one orders that soup more than once, but these will help.” He picked up a bottle of gross-looking green juice and gave it a shake. “So how did you end up at Harrington in your senior year?”
“It was for health reasons, mostly.” At his questioning look, I rolled out the approved backstory, leaving out any mention of the State Department or a certain software billionaire. His eyes danced at the description of the brawl in the marketplace. “My dad felt staying in Pakistan might interfere with my plans to continue breathing,” I concluded dryly.
“And he thought high school would be safer?” He shuddered in mock horror.
“At least it’s not evil goat herders who want to kill me here…” I trailed off.
He twisted opened the cap, his expression subdued. “You know about Rose Winters, right?” At my nod, he continued, “Man, I still can’t believe she’s gone. Anyway, Quinn was always the extra man there, you know? And now that she’s not, she’ll do whatever it takes to never go back there again, including posting pictures she shouldn’t.”
I tried the wretched soup again—which now tasted like warm, salty mush–and tried to resist feeling pity for Quinn. Sympathy is a luxury you can ill-afford, Benson would say, if you plan to survive in battle. We weren’t at war, or at least I hoped we weren’t.
I cut my eyes to the dining hall entrance for the tenth time, praying for Von to appear. So much for being irresistible.
“By the way,” I said, changing the subject, “I didn’t thank you for walking me home the other night.” I dropped my spoon, giving up on the soup. “I didn’t say anything really embarrassing, did I?”
His eyes shimmered with humor. “Oh, that reminds me. You owe me a secret.”
I gave him a wide-eyed look. “Say what?
“You told me you had secrets, so I told you one of mine.” He gulped down his juice. “I’ve never told anyone how much I hated coming here, not even my mom.”
“You didn’t want to go to boarding school?”
He unfurled his napkin, gently spilling silverware across his tray. “It’s not that. I was in a boarding school just outside of London, the one my dad went to. I liked it there, but my mom was never happy about it. She’s American.” He got busy attacking a giant slab of meatloaf. “When my dad died of a heart attack, he was barely in the ground before she dragged me to New York.” His voice grew melancholy when he mentioned his dad, as if his father’s death still left him adrift.
“I lost my mom,” I said. “But I was so young, I don’t remember her.”
He nodded in solidarity. “I went to this miserable day school on the Upper East Side and got into so many fights, I wasn’t invited back.”
“I bet you won them all though, huh?” I picked at the peanut butter cookie I’d scored for dessert.
He cracked a smile. “MMA was pretty big at my old school.”
“So your mom sent you here as punishment?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to go back to my old school in England, but she wouldn’t let me leave the East Coast. Harrington was a compromise.”
I’d never suffered from the loss of my mother. My childhood had been filled with love, joy, adventure, and tolerance. I even had a distinct memory of Benson in a princess crown and fairy wings as we sat down for a tea party. But what if he hadn’t been there to help my father pick up the pieces? I’d never really thought about it like that before.
“It must have been hard for both of you,” I sympathized.
“You mean it’s not all about me?” His mouth twisted in a deprecating smile. “That took me a whole year in family counseling to figure out.”
I waved a hand in a grand gesture. “Zat is me, Fraulein Doktor Riley,” I said in a thick German accent.
He laughed as he polished off his meal. Silence stretched for a few moments before he blurted, “Hayden and I aren’t getting back together, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Why not?” He arched a brow at the question, and my cheeks reddened. “I mean, not that I was wondering or anything, but she’s beautiful and rich, and she still seems to have a thing for you. Why wouldn’t you want her back?” Part of me was watching my mouth run on in utter horror. I practically delivered a commercial on his fabulous ex.
“Have you ever been lonely?” he asked.
It wasn’t the answer I expected. “I’m an only child. I’ve been alone my entire life.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the same thing. You can be lonely in a crowd… or at a boarding school. The problem was I didn’t know Hayden any better after six months than I knew her after six days.”
“You’re the one who ended it?”
He nodded. “She’s a good person, despite her ridiculous parents, but those walls of hers are getting higher by the day.”
What must it be like to be the daughter of parents so rich and famous, everything you did was examined and judged? How would you ever be sure that friendships and relationships were genuine, or conversations would be kept private? Could you ever let your guard down, even with your boyfriend, and learn to trust? I couldn’t believe I felt sorry for the Frasier heiress, but I did.
“Sorry I’m late!” Von’s laden tray clattered down on the other side of me, and I sagged with relief. His lip curled as he noticed my highly questionable dinner choice. “You ordered the lentil soup?”
“What can I say, it was there when I wanted it,” I said pointedly.
“I’ll share my meatloaf with you,” he gallantly offered, completely missing the subtext. He leaned forward to catch Sam’s eye. “Thanks for keeping Riley company.”
“Glad you could join us,” Sam retorted. “So Riley, when are you coming back to the gym?”
“That’s not a good idea,” Von said before I had a chance to reply.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Sam said tightly.
“And you shouldn’t be asking her either,” Von said. “Has she mentioned to you what her father will say if any more of those pictures surface?”
“No, because she doesn’t think about her father when she’s with me,” Sam said with a certain satisfaction before turning to me. “What if I guaranteed no pictures?”
I barged into the conversation before Von could voice more objections. “You can do that?” An excited thrill shot through me. I was dying to spar again and also moved that he’d go to such lengths for me.
Von scoffed. “What are you going to do? Take away everyone’s phones?”
“Who’s taking away phones?” Stef slid into the vacant chair next to Von. He, too, had ordered the meatloaf.
“Nobody’s taking away phones,” Von said impatiently.
“Well, that’s good,” he said brightly. “Hey, Riley, didn’t anyone warn you about the soup?”
Not wanting to be sidetracked, I asked Sam, “Do you think I can come back to the gym tomorrow night?” It would be Friday night, which meant no study period.
“Not tomorrow night,” interjected Von. “It’s the boathouse party.”
“Oh, yeah, you have to come,” Stef agreed.
“After last week I’m afraid to ask, but what’s the boathouse party?” I’d had enough celebrating to last the entire year.
“Much smaller than the Survival Party, and no chaperone, only prefects, but we can go to the gym instead,” Sam offered.
I had no interest in another party, and going to the gym with Sam sounded heavenly, but my mission came first. If Hayden was going to the party, then so would I.
“Are parties allowed anywhere on campus?” I wondered. Would I have to track her movements every weekend?
“Not in theory, but first they have to find us,” Von said. “And then as long as we’re back in our dorms by eleven and not caught with contraband, it’s cool.” He turned to me. “So I’ll meet you in Watson’s common tomorrow at eight?”
Sam didn’t look pleased about being scooped by Von, and my heart did a happy dance.
The rest of the chairs filled up quickly after that. Only one seat remained vacant—the one next to Sam—when Hayden and Quinn approached with their dinner trays. Hayden’s assessing gaze took in my proximity to her ex, no doubt wondering if I’d played her the other day. Sam jumped to his feet.
“Join us, Hayden,” he said, pulling out the empty seat.
Whether he did it to help smooth things over between Hayden and me, or to reach out to a friend still recovering from an unimaginable loss, I didn’t know, but he’d also delivered a very public snub to Quinn. From the way Sam struggled to keep a straight face, he realized it, too.
Hayden paused for a moment, her eyes darting between Sam and Quinn. “Do you mind, Quinn?” she asked.
Quinn flushed. “Not at all,” she said, though it was obvious nothing could be farther from the truth. Just like my blunder in the marketplace, this moment would certainly come back to haunt me.
Quinn stalked away as Hayden settled in, and talk turned to the usual chatter about homework assignments and who might be hooking up. The stilted conversation between the exes soon relaxed, and they even shared a laugh. At one point, Hayden’s eyes met mine, and I read in them a measure of gratitude. She’d already lost one friend, and even if she and Sam weren’t a couple, my presence here had perhaps helped prevent her from losing another.