But it was like a glass had shattered in his mind. Suddenly, all those moments of best friendship flew through his memories, shining in a new light. Aiden coming to the hospital when they were kids and Harvard’s dad had been sick, Aiden agreeing to go to Kings Row, Aiden asking him to go to the fair. Harvard felt his stomach sink as he remembered when he asked Aiden to help him learn to date. He thought about how careful and measured Aiden had been, how he had said about them dating, “It’s practice for being real. For Neil.” And Harvard had confirmed that it was all for a guy Harvard barely knew and didn’t really like. Harvard had just used Aiden and been wholly oblivious to his feelings.
“This was like the first date I wanted,” Aiden had confessed after Harvard took him to the fair.
When Harvard had asked Aiden if he ever had real feelings for anyone, Aiden had said yes, and confessed, “I never said anything to him. But there were things I wanted to say.”
And then Harvard had told him their practice dating meant nothing.
Now Harvard’s stomach was churning.
“I…,” he said weakly.
“Okay,” Arune said, in a voice Harvard himself had used on Nicholas and Seiji, a voice that meant, This person doesn’t understand how the world works, and there is too much for me to explain. Harvard stared at Arune in outrage. “Not the point. My point was, regardless of what was—extremely obviously—happening in the past, Aiden is now a love ’em and leave ’em without ever learning their names type, but I know this totally nice guy I could fix you up with.”
“I’m not interested,” Harvard said firmly.
Harvard knew what he had to do. His stomach still felt as if it were on the open sea, and he felt as if he had been plunged into an ice bath, but he had never been one to back down from taking responsibility.
“Arune,” Harvard said, “I have to talk to Coach.”
He got up and left Arune and the MLC guys behind him. He pushed his way across the dance floor, cutting through groups and couples, completely ignoring the annoyed glares he was getting. He was only concerned with the need to get to Coach as soon as possible.
When he reached her, Coach Williams lifted her cup at him in a toast.
“Coach, I need to tell you something,” Harvard said.
“Go ahead, my favorite captain,” she said.
Harvard blinked. “I’m your only captain.”
“So, clearly, my favorite. Hey, I don’t want to rain on your victory parade, but as my captain, I was thinking—now that Aiden’s expelled from Kings Row, does Eugene stay reserve or does Nicholas? What’s your advice? I know Eugene has more experience, but I have a good feeling about Nicholas.”
“That’s what I came here to say.” The words stuck in Harvard’s throat. “I can’t give up on Aiden yet.”
Not as part of the team. Not as part of Kings Row. He’d thought they would always have that.
Coach said gently, “I don’t want to, either. I have such high hopes for you guys, you don’t even know. I thought I was really getting through to Aiden, back when we did our team-building exercise, but he’s been a mess ever since the night of the team bonfire.”
Harvard flinched away from the memory of that night, the night he’d told Aiden that they couldn’t continue with his terrible fake-dating idea. Aiden had agreed. Harvard had been sure Aiden was relieved.
Looking back on it, he wasn’t sure at all. When he told Aiden, I can’t think of anything worse than falling in love with you, Aiden’s expression had gone blank as a closed door in a wall. The door hadn’t been opened again since that day. Since that moment.
“I have to be able to trust my team,” Coach continued.
“You can trust Aiden,” Harvard said reflexively. “I do. The same way he trusts me.”
You were the only person in his messed-up life who he could rely on, Arune had said. Terrible guilt consumed Harvard, as though he’d had something precious in his hands and let it drop and fall into deep water.
Aiden had trusted him, but Harvard had lied to him. He hadn’t wanted anything to change, hadn’t wanted his heart any more broken than it already was. He had been a coward. He hadn’t trusted Aiden, had been afraid Aiden would treat him like everyone else, when Aiden had never treated Harvard that way in his life. Aiden had always made it clear he thought more of Harvard than he did of anyone else.
Harvard had taken solid ground away from Aiden, and then wondered why Aiden was drowning.
“You trust him?” asked Coach. “Are you sure?”
Harvard said, “Yes.”
There would be no giving up on Aiden, and the way Arune and Coach talked about Harvard was making Harvard deeply uncomfortable. Harvard was sick with guilt. He’d done this, too. He knew better than anyone else how good Aiden was at living down to people’s expectations.
“There’s been something really wrong ever since that night,” said Coach. “We can’t help Aiden if he won’t talk about it.”
Harvard didn’t need Aiden to talk about it. Harvard already knew what had happened. Aiden had come to Harvard with trust in his eyes, and Harvard had lied.
Harvard swallowed. “We keep asking what’s wrong with Aiden. What if we all made a horrible mistake? What if there’s nothing wrong with Aiden? What if there’s something wrong with me?”
Harvard was the one who had lied when Aiden depended on him to tell the truth. He was the one who’d been doubting and defending himself and acting like a coward, while leaving Aiden at sea.
Coach Williams’s face was terribly, carefully sympathetic. “Harvard, I know sometimes you feel you’re responsible—”
“Yeah, and sometimes I am responsible!” said Harvard. “Coach, I have to go. I have to fix this.”
Coach protested, but for once Harvard wasn’t listening. The party was a blur of gold on black, everyone’s faces indistinct. He couldn’t think about anything else right now.
He had to go to Aiden and tell him the truth.
37 AIDEN
The yacht had several bathrooms, one with a Jacuzzi. After a long shower to get the freshman stupidity out of his hair, Aiden climbed back into his tux, sat down at the dressing table to admire his astonishingly great hair in the mirror, and didn’t look at his reflection at all. Instead, he thought about Harvard winning his match—he’d known Harvard would—and Seiji refusing to have his, and about courage.
He took out his phone and called Brianna back. When she answered, there was a lot of rustling fabric and clicking hangers, so either she was at a boutique or packing for a romantic vacation. Aiden didn’t ask which.
“Hey, Almost Stepmother. I figured since delegation’s the name of the game, I can do it, too,” said Aiden. “Even if I can’t stay at Kings Row, I’ll never be like my father. Tell him that.”
Her voice sounded strange for a moment until he figured out she was crying.
“I would,” Brianna replied, “but actually, he cheated on me and I’m leaving him. I’m packing up my stuff right now.”
He couldn’t even feign surprise.
“Right,” said Aiden. “Awkward. Sorry I said anything.”