Page 44 of All Saints: Pledge

“For the term holidays. We'll be taking the scholarship recipients to a private party at an estate owned by one of the donors. Attendance is mandatory.”

I squint at him. “The last test?”

He shrugs. “Your scholarship covers food, lodging, and travel. You are expected to bring the wardrobe items listed on the itinerary.”

I stare at the ticket. Ireland. I get to see more of Europe. I never pictured any of the tests taking us away from Oxford. Nor getting to travel on someone else’s dime. I start picturing all of the things in Ireland I’ve always wanted to see. The Cliff of Mohr, standing stones, Loch Ness?—

Kendall clears his throat.

I glance up, having momentarily forgotten his looming presence. "Um, thanks for the delivery."

He doesn't move.

I raise an eyebrow.

“What you were talking to your mom about. Your grandparents.” It’s a statement, and not a question.

I throw up my hands and stand, anger giving me the steadying my nerves need. “So you were eavesdroppingandlurking?”

“She was on speakerphone.”

“You broke intomyroom.”

“I used a key,” he says, offended.

Well,that’sunsettling. “That conversation was private.”

“I can tell you more. I can tell you what I've found out. But you have to promise me you'll keep it to yourself. Your family can't know.”

I blink rapidly, thrown off. “Tell me more about what exactly?”

“Your grandfather.”

I snort derisively. “As ifyouknow more about my grandfather than my parents?”

“Iknow,” he draws out the word, “because it’s tied to why I’m here. Why you’re here.”

“All Saints.”

A curt nod confirms my suspicions. In the span of a swallow, his demeanor shifts. Instead of an arrogant set to his shoulders, he looks tired.

I should dismiss him. And yet. It’s like catnip. He does have the library book I want. Maybe he’s finally going to reveal why he wouldn’t let me have it. I wait a second and then glance down. “Okay, fine. But let me go change first.” My choir dress is far too formal for this. I rifle through a drawer, grab some pajamas and head to the tiny closet that serves as my ensuite.

I pause just as I’m pulling the shorts up. They’re not skimpy. Just normal shorts. But something about removing the dress is like taking off my armor. Kendall has seen me practically naked. Had his hands all over my body. I shouldn't feel nervous to face him in pajamas, but something about it seems...vulnerable. I slip my choir dress onto the hanger on the back of the door and make sure I'm buttoned up to my chin before washing my face and exiting.

Kendall sits on my bed, swinging his legs like a little kid, his gaze lacking its usual acidity. He looks sad. Wistful. In moments like these I feel like I'm seeing behind the asshole mask Kendall wears. That this sadness, this unexplained pain is the reason for the mask. It doesn't excuse him from it but I have a hard time deciding to kick a puppy instead of facing the dragon I'd planned on.

I sink down on the bed next to him, and kick my legs too. It’s a throwback to a simpler time, as if we're just two teens hanging out.

“How was your concert?”

The question is so normal, my gaze flies to his face to gauge if he's making fun of me or not. He's not. He looks more like he is savoring the moment. Like it's normal for us to hang out inpajamas after my choir concerts. The me from a year ago would have not believed me if I'd told her.

“It was good.” I stretch back on my hands, rolling my shoulders. A huge yawn overtakes me.

“It's a lot of work,” he observes, motioning to my huge black choir folder where Brahms is spilling out.

“It is. I love it though.”

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