Page 41 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
Did I? Despite the pressure it added, I thought I did. Simon was a part of the frat, and we took care of our own.
“Can’t think of a better use for it,” I said.
For a brief moment, Simon dropped his face into his hands and shuddered a breath. When he looked up, he was composed, but his eyes were too bright. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
“Come on, you know we’d do anything for you.”
He crossed the room in two big strides and bent over, hugging me and slapping my shoulder hard enough to make it smart. He pulled away before I could process the flinty, aloof Simon McAllister fuckinghuggingsomeone.
“Sorry I was an ass about the project. Sign me up for any job you need. Give me all the shitty ones, if you want. Whatever it takes. I’m not afraid to admit I fucking need this.”
“Okay. Meet the guys at the Sixth Street property Thursday at two p.m.,” I said. “We’re falling behind because I’ve had to spend so much time on the project proposal.”
“You got it.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re saving my ass, man. Seriously.”
“You know there are no guarantees,” I said uneasily.
“You think the brothers won’t all vote to keep me?” he asked, misunderstanding my point. “I’ll charm the pants off all those fuckers. Just wait.”
With a grin, he left the room, hopeful for the first time—while inside, I felt as if all the walls were closing in. I took one look at my textbook and shoved it off my bed in disgust. If it hadn’t been able to hold my focus before, it sure wouldn’t now. Not with my head spinning with Simon’s hope and gratitude.
Because if there was one thing I did well, it was panic and fuck up.
And then I proved it—by failing my Micro Economics quiz. My professor didn’t even look disappointed when he slapped the test down on my desk two days later with a big red F scribbled on top. He looked as if he’d expected it.
And why wouldn’t he? I’d barely shown my face in class all semester.
“Remember,” he said as he walked down the aisle between desks, “your mid-term exam will be Tuesday. This exam counts for twenty five percent of your grade.”
He carried on handing out quizzes while I numbly listened, feeling as if my fate was already sealed.
“Just a reminder for those who haven’t been paying attention.” My neck prickled. Was he staring at me? It sure felt like it. “Your final is forty percent of your grade. Your assigned work and quizzes are thirty-five percent. So, do yourselves a favor and take this exam seriously, okay? It’ll be tough to recover if you don’t.”
This time, I was certain his gaze was on me, even if my eyes were clenched tight as I fought a wave of hopelessness.
Between this exam and the Philosophy term paper I’d just realized was due in a matter of days, I was screwed.
And so was Simon.
12
TRACE
Halfway to the college campus Friday afternoon, I got a text from Cooper. I only saw it when I stopped to refuel.
I need to be punished.
What the fuck? Cooper had been busy as hell lately, and we’d been like two ships passing in the night, so I didn’t know what there could possibly be to punish him over. He’d been distant and distracted, which bugged me, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had good reason. The boy was working his ass off trying to pull together the proposal for that charity project of his.
Firing back a text, I wrote:I decide when you need to be punished.
I waited a beat, but there was no response. Reluctantly, I pocketed my phone and resumed the drive to Hayworth. My regular routine was to drive up Friday afternoon so that I had plenty of time to get settled in my room, review my lesson plan one last time, and decompress from the drive before I went to bed for the night. But that also meant I had hours each week to torment myself with indecision.
Should I reach out to Cooper? Would he be happy to see me or furious I’d withheld the truth from him? I deserved his anger for keeping up walls, but it was a survival mechanism. I wanted to spend these weekends with him, to share the same space with him, to feel the warm press of his body in my arms. But what then?
Could I really have Cooper without hurting him? And what about Matthew? Did I really want to chance coming between father and son?
It would be selfish to cross all the lines I’d drawn.
