Page 6 of Bound in Debt
Last week, he filled up my gas tank, brought me lunch, and sat down to watch Bridgerton. Mind you, he asked a million and one questions because he joined me three episodes into the season, but I let it slide.
When I see Liam, I see more than the cocky guy who sits on his fraternity’s leadership council. I see a guy who likes my nerdiness, indulges my love of reading and music, and likes to talk about things we could do together someday. His daydreams about some hazy future are usually at least mildly entertaining.
Except when he mentions next summer.
AKA when my mother claims I’m going to be getting married. To Liam.
I may be willing to indulge Liam’s sketchy fantasies of someday, but I’m nowhere near willing to make a commitment to him or anyone else.
“Oh, Vee…” Ellie pivots on her heels and begins looking for something in the closet. “He better be paying your way while trying to secure the bag.”
“He does. He refuses to let me pay for anything.”
“Good.” She twirls around and holds a hot pink dress to the front of her body. “Because we’re moving to Paris and he’s not invited.”
And he’d hate it there.
Liam doesn’t enjoy traveling and, when he does, it’s to the Hamptons with his frat brothers or for a football game with his team. Other than that, he’s happy staying local.
“I haven’t mentioned that yet.”
Ellie shrugs, glancing down at the outfit she picked out. “You’re not going to back out on me, though.” Her eyes fly to mine, almost panicked. “Right?”
I nod. “Right. But my mother is adamant about him. Says he’s perfect marriage material.”
“Your mother can go to hell with the rest of her gold-digging friends. This isn’t the 1800s marriage mart. We’re twenty years old and independent. If you don’t count the trust fund I’ll get in a few months.”
I blow out a frustrated sigh. I hate that we’ll both have to depend on hers because mine won’t be an option.
“Stop. You know I’m not worried about it.”
“I am,” I retort evenly. “It’s not fair that you’ll be pulling all the weight until I can find a job there.”
“And I have no doubt that you’ll get one lickity-split. But there’s enough money to last us years, Vee. Just focus on school and running over to your other school,” she rolls her eyes, “you little psychopath. If you weren’t in the culinary program, I’d force you to quit. But having a bestie that cooks is only going to benefit me.”
“And the hot European guy I marry.”
Ellie beams at me. “Oh, girl, yes. And they’ll be men. Not these annoying little shits with tiny brains and smaller dicks.” She twists her body back and forth. “How does this dress make me look?”
“Excellent.” I step forward and begin scouring our closet for something to wear. If Ellie is really going to this thing, I might as well give in and go with her. “Wear it while you can because I’ll need you to taste everything I make. If I’m going to open up my own bakery, I want everything to be absolutely—” A hard knock sounds on our dorm door, cutting into my words as Ellie and I both glance at it.
“Did you invite someone?”
I shake my head back and forth, dread filling my veins. “No. But I have a feeling I know who it is.”
My best friend scoffs as she makes her way to the door, yanking it open with a huff and revealing Liam on the other side.
He gives her a shitty smile, one that doesn’t hold any warmth. He and Ellie don’t care for each other. She likes to give him shit for being a waste of space, telling him to take his entitlement and shove it up his ass every time he mentions business, networking, or his frat.
“Eleanor,” he greets flatly. “Do you always show up at the door looking like a cheap?—”
“Finish your sentence, Moretti,” Ellie cuts in, her palm wrapped around the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face. “And I’ll make sure Victoria finds a bigger dick to screw.”
He scoffs and weasels his way inside, his features immediately softening upon finding me. My stomach twists nervously. Liam can be intense sometimes. He’s used to getting what he wants as soon as he wants it, and I’m firmly in his sights.
While it’s flattering, Liam’s constant talk about marriage freaks me out. Especially when my mother is giving the same sort of lecture every chance she gets.
“Hey, babe. You ready to go?”
