Page 7 of Bound in Debt
Does it look like I’m ready to go?
“No,” I reply. “Ellie and I?—”
“I told you that I would take you tonight,” he retorts, brows pinched together. “You see Ellie all the time.”
I bob my head because I do, but I don’t know what that has to do with anything. “Right, but?—”
“I was gonna take us to Brucy’s when we were done. It’s been a few weeks.”
My stomach growls, betraying me, at the thought of a cheeseburger and the best chili cheese fries I’ve ever had in my life. The Thronewood dining hall serves a delicious—if overly health-conscious—menu, and I taste plenty of different dishes during my classes at Graham, but I’ll never pass up the chance to eat at my favorite diner.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Ellie warns him, making her way over to the bathroom to change. “We’ll be in Paris soon enough.”
Liam rolls his eyes, undeterred. He must be convinced he’ll have the power to keep me here.
But staying in Connecticut means dealing with my parents, listening to my mother talk about wedding venues, and disappointing her every time I remind her that I’m not getting married anytime soon.
“Sorry about earlier,” he offers with an almost shy grin after Ellie closes the bathroom door. “I didn’t mean to boss you around. I know we haven’t really talked much about next summer and I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”
“Liam, this is crazy.” I return my focus back to the closet so I don’t have to meet his light brown eyes. “Our families need to chill with this whole getting married thing. I have a lot of things I’d like to do before having a husband.”
“I know,” he agrees instantaneously. “But I hate arguing with my mom. Ever since my dad died, she’s been completely focused on me. I don’t want to come off like I’m ungrateful that she cares. I’m all she has.”
I can’t imagine how he must be feeling. Even though my parents have impossible standards, losing one of them would be devastating.
I remember the night Liam told me that his dad died. The blank look in his eyes as he mumbled the words. The sheer shock that blanketed his face as he stared at the floor and told me that a bunch of drunk kids hit his father’s car, sending him over a bridge.
“I guess we’ll get around to talking it out eventually,” I assure him. But delaying this conflict won’t make it better. “I really want to focus on school.”
“And I don’t want to take that away from you,” he replies evenly. “I know how much you love the culinary program over at Graham Community. I told you to use me as your food test dummy any time.”
He has—more than a million times—and I appreciate him supporting me spending my free time racing across town to take classes there to pursue my real dreams. Jumping between Thronewood and Graham takes up a lot of my day, but I wouldn’t give up the opportunity for the world. I’ve already learned so much in the two semesters I’ve been enrolled there. At Thronewood, I’m majoring in music—something my mother tolerates because she doesn’t see it as something that will lead to my independence—but I’m minoring in business. Which means I have some of the top marketing and economics professors teaching me all their tips and tricks.
What I’m hoping is that I’ll be able to take everything I’m learning and use it to open my own bakery in Paris and live there for the rest of my life, far from my parents’ crushing expectations.
“Thanks,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder to Liam. “But I don’t have anywhere to cook in the dorms."
“You could always come by the frat house. We’ve got a kitchen. I can make the pledges scrub it top to bottom.”
That’s actually not a bad idea.
“Damn.” I give up on finding a dress, already lost in the rabbit hole Liam showed me. “That’s—Maybe I could come over the next time you go on a weekend retreat?”
Liam shoves his hands into the pocket of his forest green hoodie, Thronewood Titans embroidered across the chest. “I have some ideas. Not always good ones, but sometimes?—”
“It’s perfect, Liam.” I give him a small smile. “Thank you.”
He nods and jerks his head. “I’ll meet you at the party?”
I’m slightly shocked that he’s giving me the space I so desperately want. Not that he always overcrowds me, but I have little enough privacy as it is.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll text you when I’m there.”
He bows his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll keep my phone on me.” Liam begins to turn away before pausing in the doorway. “Hey, um…my uncle, he’s a bit rough around the edges. Don’t let him hurt your feelings when you’re in his class. Just…watch it, okay?”
Rough isn’t the word I would use.
More like brutal and cruel.
