Page 7 of All Saints: Pledge

“Helena,” I say.

“Hugo,” he says back.

I turn to Clara. “How come Kendall isn’t sitting with you?”

Her face falls. “Oh you didn’t hear? We broke up at graduation.” The emphasis on the “we” feels forced, and tears shine in her eyes. Translation: Kendall broke up with her at graduation.

My heart cracks a little for her. Thawing despite my dedication to new, teflon-Helena. “That must make this pretty awkward if you planned to go to college together.”

Delicate pink blush sweeps over her features, and I feel jealous at her effortless charm. She isverypretty in a classic fine-boned way. If you’re into that whole ageless wide-blue-eyed-beauty thing. Even worse, it works here. She’s striking instead of stuck-up. Classy instead of prudish. Oxford is a natural backdrop to set off her statue. Even her black dress is perfect for this room and this event, where my outfit screams American.

She mumbles something.

“I’m sorry?”

She meets my eyes and then looks back at the table. The napkin twists in her fingers. “I didn’ttellKendall I applied. I just hoped…”

“Oh.Oh.”

She hoped that seeing her again would bring about their reunion. And here she sits, a million miles from home, still jilted. Hugo decides he sees someone he needs to talk to across the room and leaves in a hurry. Silence descends.

“I’m sorry.” What else can I say?

“Yeah.” She flags down a server and we take cups of the red wine. It’s not bad, but it’s room temperature and the plastic cups are flimsy. My euphoria at being old enough to drink here diminishes. I finish mine in one big gulp.

I slam the cup down in front of me. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s an asshole and you’re better off without him.”

My candor surprises her. She chokes on her wine from laughter. “Thank you,” she says, tapping her chest to clear it. And this time when she meets my gaze, she looks at me instead of through me. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I wasn’t very nice to you in school.”

“I think you’re being punished enough.” And I’m shocked to find I believe what I’ve said. She toasts me and I lift my empty cup to tap hers before she drains it. “So are your parents going to be pissed you paid to come all this way for a boy?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I didn’t tell Kendall because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I got a scholarship. There’s no way my family would have agreed. I was just going to go to a state school and get a business degree or something otherwise, I don’t want to be a lawyer or anything, without the scholarship, zero way my parents would have paid for me to come here. They think mydegree is more of a formality, and that I’m better off attending as many social events with my mother as I can.”

Dread pools in my stomach, and my hand goes to my pocket, slipping inside to run my fingers over the black card stock. “Wait. Go back. Scholarship?”

Clara glances at her watch. “They must really want more Americans here. That’s what I thought at first. And then when I interviewed…well, I assumed Kendall recommended me so that we could be together.”

I nod, pieces sliding into place. “You met Kendall’s father. And he told you that Kendall recommended you for the scholarship.”Whywould he say that, when Kendall clearly doesn’t want either of us here? Why surprise Kendall by bringing two classmates to Oxford for a term? Had his father thought he’d be homesick?

In that school of thought, Clara makes sense. But notmypresence. I’m the very last person Kendall would have wanted here.

Clara looks floored. “How did you know I met his father?”

I reach into my bag and pull out the black card. I set it on the table between us. “Because I did too.”

Her mouth falls open. She reaches into her clutch and produces her own black card.

Our gazes meet. I need to understand what’s happening here. “Let’s go find Kendall and ask some questions.”

A guy in a suit carrying a tray stops by our table. “Are you finished with your cups?”

“Yes, thank you.” I gather our plastic cups together and hold them up, glancing to our server. Only then do my eyes meet warm hazel ones set in an alabaster brow. I give a start, a jolt of electricity running through my body. My lizard brain knows it before my logic brain. He’s the guy from the choir—messy black hair and all. Inside my head, I want to blurt several versions of“oh my God your voice is like an angel and you are so hot, can I have your babies”, and I can’t tame it into a socially polite greeting.

He takes in my wide eyes and gives a small wink. I watch him go, still unable to form words.

“Huh,” Clara says, glancing between me and the guy’s retreating back. “I’ve never seen anyone actually freeze like a deer in headlights before.” She appraises his backside. “Can’t fault you for your taste though. Wonder if he’s in Univ.”

“Um, I think I met him already once. Or saw him. Singing in the choir. New College, not Univ. They’re the college next door to ours.”

---