Page 55 of Burn Bright
“He’s been informed.”
I laugh. “There’s no way in hell he’s going to participate.”
“We’re working on him,” Tom says, dumping the bottles and sprays on the sink counter.
Eliot chimes in, “And I, for one, would love to see where Charlie fucks off to every day.”
This can’t be about Charlie, or else they would’ve concocted this group calendar thing prior to me living here.
“I’m mostly just on campus,” I tell them. “It’s boring.”
“We’re not asking to be entertained, Ben Pirrip,” Tom says. “We just want to know where everyone is. We’re not nobodies. Luna was assaultedlast year.” Mention of our cousin,theirbest friend, tenses the bathroom.
It wasn’t a random assault. It was targeted. She’s famous, and her attackers wanted a quick payout and sold the story to the media. Our parents have harped on us to “always have your bodyguard present” this year. It’s why Novak is basically superglued to my shadow now.
“We should be keeping tabs on each other,” Tom adds. “It’s safer that way.”
I let out a deep exhale. “Yeah, okay,” I agree. I’m mostly trying to conceal my bartending job. I can just omit that from the calendar.
Eliot still has a palm planted on the door. He studies me, but if Charlie feels like the king, queen, rook, and bishop on a chess board, then Eliot is only the knight. He’s far less threatening to me.
He straightens up so we’re almost the same height. “You know, we’d be much closer, you and I, without so much mystery between us.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be any closer to you,” I say without thinking. It’s not the truth, but it’s also not a total lie.
Tom lets out a breath. “Damn.”
Guilt fists my insides. I try not to feel bad. Eliot and Tom aren’t Charlie. They don’t actively hate me. And the last thing I want is to become an asshole like Charlie.
“Harriet,” I blurt out like a busted dam. “That’s the girl.” I jerk my head toward the shower.
Tom suddenly freezes. “I beg your pardon.Who?”
“Harriet,” I repeat.
“I know a Harriet.” He stares at me likeplease don’t say it’s her, but I don’t want to hide her like a dirty dark secret. Like something to be ashamed of.
“Yeah, same Harriet.”
Tom pushes his golden-brown hair out of his face with a hot hand. “Dude, she’s trouble. You do not need to add her to yourspank bank. Okay? She needs to stay far,faraway from any indecent thoughts.”
What? I give him a strange look. “You’retelling me to stay away from trouble? You’re jerking off to Beckett’s ballet rival, and you literally got the wordtroublemakertattooed to your bicep three weeks ago.” I point to the cursive letters inked on his arm—veryvisible since he’s wearing a muscle shirt.
“Ignore my tattoos,” he says in a slight panic. “Ignore what I do, but don’t ignore what I’m saying.”
He’s saying to stay away from the one girl who’s made me feel happy to be in New York. “I can’t. We’re friends.”
His jaw unhinges. “Friends?”He whips around to Eliot for confirmation. “Did I hear that right?”
Eliot’s staring at me. “Parfaitement.”Perfectly.
“I don’t understand your issue with her,” I tell Tom. “So she tried out for your band when she was seventeen. You were the one who rejectedherjust because she was under eighteen. If anything, she should be pissed off at you and not the other way around.”
“Pissed off at me?” Tom touches his chest in disbelief. “Yes, I rejected her, but she’s the one who emailed me when she turned eighteen and asked if she could be in the band. I told herno, and what does she do? Let it go? Move along with her life? No, she fuckingemailedour bassist this long rant about how I was going to sink The Carraways. Pissed off at ME?” He’s pacing. His hands on his hand. “Dude. She. Is. Batshit.”
I wave a hand to Tom but look at Eliot. “He’s getting this worked up over an email?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom almost lunges, but Eliot grabs a fistful of his shirt, dragging him backward.
