Right, and the team couldn’t get in trouble at Camp Menton. Harvard was just being a good captain.
It was probably a relief for Harvard to see Aiden with someone else. Push his best friend off on the nearest guy, consider Aiden’s inconvenient crush over and done with. Problem solved.
For years Aiden had dated guys, and Harvard hadn’t cared. It wasn’t fair for Aiden to be furious that Harvard still didn’t care now.
Harvard had to stop being gentle and reasonable. Aiden had to make him stop.
Aiden said, with breathless malice, “Don’t be so boring. It was just a kiss. Air, lips. A kiss is nothing.”
He watched Harvard’s mouth with the fascination of a hunter watching prey. Frustration flexed the corners of that mouth, but then Harvard’s mouth went soft once again as he let out a sigh and tried to sound patient.
“I know a kiss is nothing to you, Aiden, but there are people out there for whom a kiss does mean something. They might be confused or think it means more than—” Harvard cut himself off. “And you might get into trouble with the teachers. If you and Colm want to take it elsewhere, then you should, but—”
Aiden couldn’t listen to Harvard making it clear that as long as Harvard wasn’t forced to witness the offending spectacle, Harvard didn’t care what Aiden did.
“Oh, Captain,” Aiden said, fluttering his eyelashes but speaking savagely. “I don’t actually remember asking for your wise advice. Try to recall we’re not in elementary school, and you’re not getting a sticker for being such a good boy. I’m not a little kid anymore. I didn’t ask for you to interfere.”
Even Harvard’s tolerance wasn’t infinite, Aiden thought as Harvard’s dark eyes kindled. Harvard losing patience felt like taking Harvard’s sword in a fencing match. Having Harvard finally react to him sang through Aiden like a victory.
“Fine! Do whatever you want, then!” Harvard shouted.
“I will,” said Aiden.
Harvard had never looked at Aiden this way before, as if he was truly disappointed in him. It made Aiden want to run. It made Aiden want to live down to all of Harvard’s apparently low expectations.
“Aiden,” Harvard almost growled, sounding at the very end of his patience. “Why are you acting like this? You’re skipping training, you’re blowing off the team—”
Aiden raised an eyebrow. “That’s just what I’m like, isn’t it? Selfish, unreliable, uncaring.”
He wanted Harvard to contradict him, say no, that’s not who you are. Harvard always had before. Harvard’s eyes were always warm when they looked at Aiden, always saw the best in him.
Now Harvard’s eyes were a cold mirror, and perhaps there was no good in Aiden to be found. “You know, I made excuses for you for so long. I really thought that if you had someone who believed in you, a real friend, that you might…”
Each word twisted, cold and sharp, in Aiden’s chest. “What? That I might change? Turn into a good little boy like you are? Well, you were wrong.”
“Obviously,” Harvard said. “You’ve made yourself very clear. I get it now, Aiden. I should never have believed in you at all.”
Both went still, but that only lasted for a moment. Harvard opened his mouth, and Aiden moved. Before Harvard could say anything, before he could be kind, lie, and take it back, Aiden pushed past him and ran toward the camp gates.
“Aiden?” Coach Williams called. “Where are you going?”
Without stopping, Aiden shouted back, “Breaking curfew.”
Aiden walked away from the party and from his team, then out toward the town. It was already past curfew. He had no destination in mind. If you didn’t care where you were going, it didn’t matter where you wound up.
Aiden wandered the streets of Menton by night, Harvard’s furious words echoing dully in his mind. A warm breeze ran through Aiden’s hair and got in his eyes. That made his eyes sting and his sight blur, so the stars seemed to be scattering wildly, loose and unmoored across the sky. The sea was singing a soothing lullaby to the shore, the multicolored houses had all gone silver in the dark, and there were lovers and friends mingling together under the electric lights. It was a beautiful night.
Aiden always tried not to be alone. He found it ironic that now he was alone in one of the most romantic places on earth.
“Oh hello,” murmured a passing stranger in French. “I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Trust me,” Aiden said shortly, “You wouldn’t.”
Aiden considered what his father might think of this predicament. He’d always known how easy it would be, to let go of everything that was important and become like his father. Maybe it would be better to lose Harvard and be heartless. Maybe this was where he was always meant to end up. If you didn’t care about anything, nothing ever mattered.
When Aiden finally headed back to camp, he found Coach Robillard waiting for him at the gate, gray eyes narrowed. Before Aiden could decide whether to even bother offering an explanation, the coach snapped, “You were warned what would happen if you broke curfew, Mr. Kane. You’re expelled.”
He remembered Coach’s warning. If he was expelled from here, he had to leave Kings Row.
Aiden gave a hollow laugh, lost on a sea breeze. “Perfect.”
25 HARVARD
This evening was supposed to be about fixing things!
“So, what’s wrong with Aiden?” Arune asked when Harvard came back. Harvard was worried he looked shaken. He felt beyond shaken. He felt wrecked.
He couldn’t show it.
“That’s the question everybody’s asking,” said Harvard. “Honestly, I think he’s just… bored.”
That was what Aiden kept telling Harvard. Maybe it was time to believe him.
Bored with Kings Row, bored with his best friend. Ready for a new adventure. Coach Williams had believed Harvard could keep Aiden’s behavior in check. But Aiden had made it more than clear he was no longer interested in listening to Harvard.
“I saw Aiden kick some other guy on the dance floor!” said Arune. “What’s next, puppies? Is it true that he breaks so many hearts your coach has forbidden guys to use the excuse ‘Aiden dumped me’ when they drop out of fencing?”
Harvard was silent.
Arune whistled. “Guess it’s true.”
“Come on,” said Harvard. “He’s not like that. He can be thoughtless, but he’s not mean.”
Harvard worried that he was being unfair, wanting to excuse everything Aiden did just because of how Harvard felt about him. Aiden dancing, loose and easy, moving through a hundred spotlights as if someone had poured out all the stars in the sky just for him. Aiden kissing someone else, his hands in someone else’s hair, running along someone else’s jaw, smoothing down someone else’s shirt. Harvard had a terribly distinct memory of Aiden’s hands as he touched someone else, the dark crimson edges of his sleeves flirting with his graceful fingers. Aiden wearing his reading glasses, looking adorable. Aiden being so sweet with a little kid that Harvard had been forced to look away with a lump in his throat. Aiden coming out of the sea, limned in light, skin gleaming and hair sparkling with seawater.