Page 11 of Reckless Temptation

I more or less switched to a concentration in the arts just so I could stillbein college. Slacking off wasn’t something I tried to perfect. But as I struggled to know what the fuck to do with the rest of my life, it was a stand-in. Besides, as long as I was enrolled in something, George would assume I was interested in not becoming a bum. As long as I showed up at some classes, my mom wouldn’t have to stress about my not coping with life after my dad’s death.

Opening the email from the engineering department was a mistake I could’ve done without this morning. It was one of those messages with too vague of a subject line to weed it out as important news versus spam.

While I stupidly skimmed the content on my phone in the middle of Art History 101, my mood soured.

No, I didn’t care about an upcoming guest speaker the engineering department had invited here.

And no, I wasn’t interested in meeting with the department’s curriculum advisors about signing up for a new course that would be offered next semester.

Sitting here in a class where half of the students were napping, I didn’t care about much at all.

Just Mom.

All weekend, she’d seemed so distant. I hadn’t stayed in the mansion much, but when I did seek her out, she made excuses, almost as if she were actively avoiding me.

A headache. Feeling tired. Wanting to go for a walk by herself.

I was used to how she acted when she wanted to withdraw, and I was worried she was sinking too fast and deep this time.

This is stupid.

I was wasting my time being in class. I wasn’t invested in the topic. American minimalism was such a boring phase of art, anyway.

Instead of pretending to be a dutiful student, I got up and left early to go see Mom at the Lorsen mansion she called home. Itwouldn’t be mine. I wasn’t sure when and where I would ever feel another sense of beinghomeagain.

I left campus, ignoring the glaring sunshine the best I could. My sunglasses helped a little, but it was just too damn bright, too hot. I felt exposed on my bike, and it was with relief that I reached the shadows of the cool hall at the mansion twenty minutes later.

Finding Mom on the patio out back, taking shelter under a wide-open umbrella near the pool, I lifted my hand in a wave.

“Nick? What are you doing here so early?” she greeted as she sat up, clearly surprised.

Why are you so surprised that you’re not alone?I hated how everything she said and did seemed so suspicious.

She softened up to smile, but it still didn’t reach her eyes. “Skipping class again?”

Her question was more teasing and observant than scolding.

I shrugged, shoving my hands into my pockets as I gazed at the pool. While this mansion would never feel like home, I was fond of swimming in the Olympic-sized pool, often late at night when I wouldn’t have to see anyone.

Hell, I guess we’re the same like that.Avoiding others did seem easier on my soul sometimes.

“It’s just as well you’re here, though.” She lifted her sunglasses to peer at me as she sat up. Reaching for a package that must have been delivered, she gestured for me to come closer. “Are you going back to campus today?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I just wasn’t interested in Art History today.”

“Then maybe you could run this to George. It came after he left for his lectures this morning, and I think he needs it before going to his office later.”

“Ah.” I accepted the package. “Yeah, I can drop it off.”

“Do you remember which office is his?” she asked. “Those law buildings are just so big.”

I nodded. I would find it. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to talk about George or the building he taught a class or two in. I wanted to check onher.

“Are you?—”

Her phone rang, and she bolted upright to glance at the screen. “Shoot. I need to take this. I’ve been trying to get ahold of this company that can fix my account with the car insurance.” She stood, shaking her head. “I swear, everything is outsourced to a third-party whatever nowadays.”

I watched as she dismissed herself, answering the call and walking away.

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