“I... I can’t accept this,” I whisper.
“It’s no big deal,” Charles says, and my jaw drops. “You need a laptop to compose music.”
“It’s our way of asking if you’ll write us a song for the competition,” Tate adds.
“Of course I’ll do it,” I say instantly. “But I don’t need a new laptop to write a song. I could borrow yours or use a computer at the library or...”
“That would be inconvenient.” Charles shrugs. “And this didn’t cost much.”
“Says the guy who poured five thousand dollar brandy off the balcony,” I say before I can think better of it.
“You poured our exam brandy off the balcony?” Tate gapes at him, but then his gaze settles on me and he shrugs. “Don’t worry, Roo Roo, we can afford it. Just think of this as a gift for writing our song. The judges at the audition said we need something that showcases our unique voices if we want to stand a chance at the competition. We really need your help.”
“Of course I’ll help! But you’re already paying for all the food, and you’re letting me stay. And Charles, you got me all these clothes. You too, Tate. I can’t accept anything else. Especially not this.” I push the laptop box back toward Charles.
“It’s just a laptop, Roonie.” Charles watches me like he has no idea where I’m coming from. Considering he spends more on food in a day than I have in an entire month to feed both Father and myself, he probably doesn’t.
“You’re getting off easy, Roo Roo,” Tate adds. “Charles could just as easily buy you a house. Or a private jet.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head, and Tate starts to laugh. Charles chuckles too, but I’m not quite sure if Tate was kidding or if they’re just amused by my reaction.
“Who wants pizza?” JJ returns with a large, steaming pepperoni pizza, which he sets in the middle of the table. It’s already been cut into slices and looks like the delivery pizza I’m used to.
“JJ, this is the last time we send you to get food,” Tate says, frowning, while I inhale the delicious smell of fake cheese, fake meat, and very real, very greasy oil.
Charles wrinkles his nose at the glistening pizza. I, however, am practically drooling.
“Suit yourself,” JJ says, helping himself to some greasy pizza. When he pulls his slice away from the rest of the pie, a curtain of cheesy strings follow it. The cheap tomato sauce peeks through. My stomach growls as JJ folds the piece in half lengthwise and takes a huge bite. His lips become slick with grease, and he pops an extra piece of pepperoni into his mouth.
With a grunt, he points to the remainder of the pie. He spends a few extra seconds making eye contact with me.
“Dig in,” he says around a mouthful of pizza.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Charles says. “Let’s go grab something else on the way to class.”
Tate starts to stand, but I hesitate. I glance at the pizza longingly and then back at Charles.
“Roonie,” JJ urges me, “take some.”
Still, I hesitate, and Tate sits back down. “Might as well.” With a shrug, he carefully loosens a slice of pizza from its neighbors and pulls it toward himself. “Roonie?”
I nod and follow his lead. The cheese puts up a fight, but I manage to get the pizza slice to my mouth and take a bite. The cheese is salty, the sauce is tangy, and the crust is just thin enough to maintain its crispiness. It’s not gourmet, that is for certain. Oh, but it is so good.
“Mmmm,” I hum without thinking.
“You see?” JJ says, gesturing toward me. “She gets it.”
“It’s not half bad,” Tate grudgingly admits.
“Charles, you should try some,” I tell him, but when I turn, the Beast is no longer towering over us. I look around, but there is no sign of him in the cafeteria. And the box with the laptop is still on the table next to the pizza.
“He’s probably halfway to Chez Caviar by now.” Tate smiles at me, his cheeks dimpling, and I almost choke on a mouthful of pizza.
Chapter 8
When we’re almost done eating, JJ grunts as though remembering something. He wipes his fingers on a tissue and reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a card.
“Oh, right,” Tate says. He swallows another bite of pizza. “We meant to give this to you earlier.”
I pull my hand back as if I’d been shocked. “I can’t—”
“It’s not a credit card.” Tate grins.
“Why would you think it’s a credit card?” JJ regards the black card in his hand quizzically. My cheeks flush as he tosses it on the table. “It’s our room card.”
“It’s for you,” Tate adds.
“Don’t you need it?” I ask.
“It’s a spare,” JJ explains. “I went to get it from the office. As long as you’re staying with us, you’re going to need a key so you can get in and out.”
I freeze. Did they...? Did they just give me the key to their place?
“That’s for the main door of the dorm building as well as for the door to our suite,” Tate adds.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m still stunned that they would trust me with a key to their place.
“We don’t want you to be cooped up inside all day,” JJ says. “Or locked out.”
“Yeah,” Tate adds. “You live with us. You should have a key.”
“Live with you?” I whisper. Does he actually mean it? That he doesn’t see me as someone who’s crashing at their place temporarily, but as someone who lives there? Or is this still temporary, for as long as I’m writing their competition song?
I tuck the key card into my pocket where it will be safe. We refocus our attention on our pizza, and Tate and JJ share tales of their snobby singing coach.
By the time we finish lunch, Tate and JJ are in a hurry to get to class. I didn’t notice the minutes passing, but they slipped by all too quickly. I feel like Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight. One minute, everything is going great, and then the next—poof—the spell is broken.
“You think you’ll be okay getting back to the dorms?” Tate asks.
I nod, and he places a quick kiss on my cheek and gets to his feet.
“You should take the laptop.” I eye the box nervously, but Tate shakes his head.
“It’s yours.”
“We’ll see you tonight,” JJ adds, giving my hair a parting tug.
I start to hum about a lost glass slipper and a pumpkin carriage as I watch the two of them walk away. My song disappears into the dull white noise of a dozen student conversations, and I startle when a girl with strawberry blonde hair drops into the seat across from mine.
She sets her steaming cup of coffee down on the table and grins at me. “Three guys, huh?”
“What?” I frown as I try to figure out what she’s talking about. Maybe she’s mistaken me for someone else?
“I saw the way you were looking at those two.” She tilts her chin in the direction Tate and JJ went.
“I wasn’t—”
“I don’t blame you. They’re hot. And that big guy who left earlier? Wowie.” The girl fans herself.