Aiden decided he couldn’t wait to go to France. Surely there would be many opportunities for oblivion there. He just wished he could also take a vacation from himself.
“Hey, bud. What’s going on with you?” Harvard asked at last, his voice strained with the effort of being casual. “Let me help.”
Okay, bro, be a pal and fall in love with me, Aiden snarled in his head. Only, Harvard had already made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to do that.
“For the last time, there’s nothing going on with me. I just like to have fun, Harvard.” Aiden could almost see his own voice on the air, gleaming and cutting like razor wire. “I know the concept must be terribly confusing for you. Since you’re no fun at all.”
7 HARVARD
Harvard forced himself not to flinch. It was nothing he didn’t already know, and it made sense that Aiden felt that way. Aiden had flings with heirs to Swiss banking fortunes and nights on the town with minor royalty. Harvard’s parents were well-off, but Aiden’s dad had stratospheric money, and that meant Aiden had access to all the most glittering and expensive entertainments in the world. Aiden clearly regarded their weekend trip to France as forgettable and pedestrian. Harvard himself was as exciting as Aiden’s old teddy bear.
Aiden had wasted enough time with Harvard already.
“Sure, I get it,” said Harvard. “Have as much fun as you want.”
“Thanks for your permission, bud,” Aiden returned. He spoke in the light way he always spoke, like the sound of silver bells, but there was a note underneath that sounded like steel.
It made Harvard uneasy, but what else could he do? He wasn’t ever going to cramp Aiden’s style. That was the whole point. No matter what Harvard wanted for himself, he couldn’t be selfish.
Not even if Aiden was going to roll around on their bed, his honey-colored hair spilling across newly rumpled sheets, and murmur in his honey-smooth voice, Want to make out? Harvard had to dismiss the warm, lurching impulse to surrender and go over there. He had to sternly banish the memory of when Harvard had made his fatal error. How he’d kissed Aiden, at their door, on their bed, and hadn’t wanted to stop. Things like that didn’t mean to Aiden what they meant to Harvard. Things like that didn’t mean anything to Aiden at all.
You’ve always been the only one who could talk sense into him, Coach had said. Surely, they still had that between them: that Aiden would trust what Harvard told him, and know Harvard was saying it for Aiden’s own good. If they didn’t have that, maybe they didn’t have anything at all.
“I’m just giving you a word of warning,” Harvard urged. “Do whatever you want but try to be more careful. Coach says you’re getting into trouble practically every day. She said the principal talked to your dad, and your dad won’t put up with you being suspended.”
“Great news,” said Aiden. “Once again being rich and pretty means facing absolutely no consequences.”
“What if there are consequences?” Harvard hesitated. “You could get in real trouble. Seriously, he’s talking about taking you out of school if you keep getting in trouble. What if they asked you to leave school?”
“Oh, please,” said Aiden. “Who’d do that? I’m so ornamental.”
He sounded as though the idea of leaving Kings Row didn’t bother him at all. Harvard was hurt enough to fall silent. They’d planned their future together for so long, how they’d go to boarding school and fence together, plotting under their blankets through a hundred sleepovers over the years. Then they’d seen Kings Row, with its quaint old-fashioned classrooms that still had hinged wooden desks and blackboards, with its deep lake and deeper woods. They had walked through the quad for the first time, and Aiden had spun around one of the pillars lining the walkways as he agreed that this was the place.
“You know me, Harvard,” said his best friend.
Harvard had always believed he did.
Aiden’s cat-green eyes surveyed their room—the beds pushed together, the teddy bear fallen on its side—with indifference that seemed close to contempt. Then his gaze rested on Harvard. His eyes were as flat as they were brilliant, his smile sparkling and cold as a diamond. It was clear to Harvard that nothing he’d said had made the slightest impression.
“I can get out of anything,” Aiden claimed.
He’d always been able to reach Aiden. But now Aiden seemed impossibly distant.
“Right,” Harvard said quietly. There didn’t seem much else to say.
“Right.” Aiden’s smile showed another blinding facet. For the first time in Harvard’s life, he found himself wanting to look away from his best friend. Yet somehow, terribly, he still couldn’t tear his eyes off him. “Catch you later, Harvard.”
“When?” Harvard had to ask.
“Haven’t you heard?” Aiden asked lightly as he strolled out of the door. “We’re going to France.”
Harvard almost called out for him to return, but he’d realized years ago when guys started paying attention to Aiden that he shouldn’t hold Aiden back. He didn’t have the right. He’d be a bad friend if he tried. So Harvard watched Aiden go, and he didn’t say a word.
When the door closed behind Aiden, Harvard’s phone buzzed. See? Harvard thought. I’m fun. I’m popular. Cool people text me constantly.
The text was from his mom, but Harvard thought his mom was very cool so that was all right. Have fun in France! Be safe. Maybe you’ll meet a nice boy!
Harvard texted back, I don’t know if nice boys are my type.
Current evidence seemed to suggest not.
His mom texted instantly: Maybe you’ll meet a boy with a certain je ne sais quoi.
I don’t know, Harvard texted.
Exactly! she texted in return, along with many laughing-face emojis and various other emojis as she always did. Old people, even cool old people like his mom, didn’t get emojis. Harvard’s mom claimed he was the one who didn’t understand them.
His mom was right as usual, Harvard decided, going over to his wardrobe and starting to pack. He included a first aid kit since Nicholas was coming along on this trip. It was best to be prepared. The whole team would enjoy France. He and Aiden would get back to normal soon. Harvard ignored the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and decided he was looking forward to Camp Menton.
He could have fun, too, Aiden.
Fun in a responsible way. He was the captain. He’d made too many mistakes already. Now he had to make the right choices.
8 SEIJI
Seiji couldn’t believe he was being forced to waste even more time on this ill-advised French escapade. Yet someone had to supervise Nicholas’s packing. Nicholas kept getting it wrong.
First of all, Nicholas had tried to pack his clothes in a backpack, which was upsetting. Apparently, Nicholas didn’t own a suitcase, so Seiji got out his spare one and insisted he disliked it and was throwing it out if Nicholas didn’t take it off his hands. Suitcase arranged, Nicholas then attempted to go to France with no pajamas, so Seiji forced him to pack the pajamas he’d given Nicholas on a previous occasion. He couldn’t help noticing that Nicholas didn’t wear them.