Page 19 of Finance Bros

And how fucking pathetic would that sound? How quickly would he shut me down?

Jesus, I hate the way I feel about him. This is the problem with imprinting on someone at an early age because your dad is dead, and your mom is too busy with her new husband to give you the kind of attention you need. It makes you stupid for someone you’ve got no business being stupid about.

Since it’s Friday night, and I can’t sleep, I think about firing up my computer and trying to make an ad for the book I haven’t put together yet, but I can’t make myself get up. I went hard on the treadmill today and even harder on the leg press. Also, my cat is snuggled into my side, purring comfortably, and I’d hate to disturb him at this late hour.

When my phone buzzes, my eyes pop open. I might not be able to get up to make a graphic, but a booty call… I could be motivated to do that.

There’s no name on the screen—only a number. I recognize it immediately. It’s Malcolm. I deleted his contact years ago, but his number is one of the few I know by heart.

I swipe to answer, guard up. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me. Sorry to call so late?—”

I got a new number after high school graduation. He shouldn’t have it. “How did you?—”

“Your mom gave it to me,” he says, like there’s no need to complete my sentence. There never really was with him. We were always creepy like twins that way. Until we weren’t.

“You called her at?—”

“I called her a while back. Look, I just need to ask one question.” His tone is brusque, direct, and puts me on edge.

I rest a hand on my cat to ground myself. Bud’s purrs intensify. “What’s the question?”

“Do you still have your hundred dollars?”

I scowl. Is he calling after midnight to ask me about the stupid challenge? I mean, obviously he is, but why me? Why now? “Do you not?”

“I don’t know what you’re planning to do with it, but with the rest of them all working together, are you worried about not being able to compete?”

Of course I am. He should be, too, but I have a feeling I know where this line of questioning is headed.

“Ryan?”

The sound of my name in his low voice scrapes my ear. It makes my neck break out in chills. “Uh-huh.”

“I forgive you all right? For the thing that happened when we were kids. I forgive you.”

My first thought?Bullshit.One, because I don’t believe it for a second, and also because what the fuck? “Youforgiveme?”

“I mean…” He’s already hedging. I knew he didn’t mean it. He’s so full of shit.

“I never asked for that,” I say firmly.

His response is as ice cold as ever. “Fine. I take it back.”

I’m shocked.Shocked.

“About the challenge?—”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I sigh.

“Yeah, well, I’m not. If it’s a no, just tell me to fuck off.”

It’s tempting.Reallytempting. But then I think about Piper and goddamn Nathan and their smug looks like they’ve got this in the bag. Still—teaming up with Malcolm? I may be in a bad mood more often than not, but I’m not suicidal. However, as the fuck offreadies itself to fly from the tip of my tongue, there’s a deafening crack in my guard. Bud twitches beneath my palm like heheardit.

“Fine,” I hear myself saying. “I’ll work with you on it, but only if you want to win.”

“I do,” he says, not sounding nearly as confident. He almost sounds—shaky.

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