Page 10 of Learning Curve

Ace is laughing and shaking his head at the same time. “You’re such a dick.”

Thatch winks. “Never forget that I’ve got friends in all the right places.” And just like that, as quick as he came, he’s gone.

Ace looks back toward our professor and glares. “Thanks a lot, man.”

Professor Winslow is still grinning. “Maybe next time, you won’t be late to my class.”

Ace nods and rolls his eyes before whispering toward me as he pulls a notebook out of his messenger bag. “I hope you know that you’re officially an accomplice to my next crime.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting my dad get away with that bullshit without retaliation.”

My attention is pulled back to my desk when Scottie grabs the sheet of notepaper from it and scribbles something down before shoving it back over to me.

Now you have to come to the party on Friday. You and your friend Ace. No excuses.

And at the bottom of that note? Her number.

Ace sees it immediately, the nosy bastard, and snatches it from me. He’s giving Scottie the thumbs-up before I can even process any of it.

She smiles and looks down at her desk to concentrate, her cheeks pinking up once again.

So much for telling her I’m not getting involved.

Friday, September 6th

Finn

It’s almost midnight—two hours later than we originally planned to leave for the party I don’t even want to go to—and we’re still in our dorm room.

But, as I’m starting to learn, thinking I can do absolutely anything my way without Ace Kelly fucking it up this year is mistake number one. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and after living with him for a week, I feel like I’ve gained a new, hugely dysfunctional, but somehow lovable extra appendage.

Honestly, I wonder if this is what my brothers Jack and Trav feel like being twins. Like there’s just a whole other set of arms and legs attached to their own, doing shit that’s unpredictable, or another brain theirs has to consult before taking action—because that’s Ace in a nutshell.

“Do you like this shirt?” he asks, pacing in front of the mirror and then turning to face me with his arms held wide. “Or is too…like…I dunno…”

“Preppy?” I offer, staring in offense at the popped-up collar of his polo.

“No.”

“Rich?” I try instead, to which he shakes his head.

“No, no. It’s, like…what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“I have no fucking clue,” I answer honestly. “And I swear, if you make me think about it for another second before picking something so we can leave, I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, okay,” he placates, holding up a hand before disappearing behind his bed again to dig in the closet. I scroll my phone, pausing on TikTok for a while, then flitting to Instagram, and finally considering Scottie’s number for a few seconds, wondering if I should text her to say we’re running late.

Which is dumb. I hardly know her, she has a boyfriend, and I have zero business getting in the middle of any of it.

When Ace eventually reappears in a three-piece suit, I don’t even blink.

He challenges my steely demeanor, looking for a reaction. I don’t give it. For all I care at this point, he can wear a turtle shell and call himself Donatello.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.”

I nod and clap my hands before dragging my ass off my desk chair. “Great. Let’s go.”

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