Harvard and Aiden paired up to share a desk, and Arune sat at the next desk over. Arune had always been nice to Aiden, but sometimes—like all the other boys, except Harvard—Arune teased Aiden for being short and shy. It was done in a nice-enough way. Aiden didn’t usually mind.
That day, though, Arune leaned over the space between their desks, laughed, and said, “Let’s see what you’re drawing.” Before Aiden could react, Arune had tugged the card out from under Aiden’s sheltering arm as Aiden sighed and stared out the window.
That day Aiden minded very much.
“Quit it, Arune!” he shouted, stunningly loud for quiet mouse Aiden. “That’s not funny. Give it back to me now!”
Arune was laughing, but he stopped laughing as he unfolded the card and saw—Aiden’s chest felt like it might collapse in on itself—the little pink heart Aiden had doodled, hardly even conscious of what he was doing. A heart floating like a bubble on the surface of the blue waters, where the pea-green boat sailed.
A heart with Aiden Loves Harvard scrawled inside it.
Arune’s eyes met Aiden’s. Aiden froze, going quiet and still, feeling every bit the mouse they all called him. He felt like a mouse caught in a trap.
Arune stared. Aiden stared. Time froze. Then a teacher snatched the card.
“What’s happening here?”
“He took my card,” Aiden whispered, and when the card was safely delivered back into his hands, Aiden crumpled it at once. He twisted the card viciously, as his heart twisted in terror at the thought Arune knew.
He understood, for the first time, why his father was always talking about being strong. He didn’t want to be weak and afraid. He didn’t want to rely on someone else’s mercy to be saved.
Aiden never wanted to be the one in a vulnerable position ever again. And he never had been, except with Harvard. He’d put his heart in Harvard’s hands when he was too young to know it wasn’t safe to give your heart to anyone. They were the best hands Aiden knew. He trusted Harvard not to crush his heart or throw it away, to be careful with it.
Even now, his heart was in Harvard’s hands. He didn’t want it back. He wasn’t planning to use it. Honestly, if it were anywhere else, it wouldn’t feel like Aiden’s heart at all.
He just wished he could cut the strings connecting himself to his heart, constantly tugging Aiden in Harvard’s direction, making Aiden long to be wherever Harvard was. Once the connection was cut, Aiden could live perfectly well without his heart. His father would like him better that way. He’d do better that way. Everyone knew he was born to be the heartless type.
“So, there’s a goodbye party on the last night at Camp Menton,” Aiden said lightly, returning his attention to his dance partner. “There are two parties for a camp that lasts only three full days? The French know how to live. But have you considered the most important kind of party?”
“One that’s just you and me?” his dance partner murmured in his ear.
Aiden thought the guy’s name was Colin? He was pretty sure Colin was from Iceland.
“I meant the after-party,” said Aiden. “A more exclusive event, in which one can get into a lot more trouble, and thus have a lot more fun. And I know just the place to hold an after-party. My father’s yacht is in the harbor.”
Colin from Iceland blinked at him. “Your father has a yacht in Menton harbor?”
“My father keeps several yachts along the Riviera,” said Aiden. “What’s the alternative, rent a yacht every time you need one? We’re not peasants.”
Colin from Iceland laughed. Don’t laugh, Aiden thought. What I’m saying is obnoxious. Harvard wouldn’t let me get away with this.
Across a space of swaying lights and warm air, Harvard was laughing at something Arune was saying.
Every time Aiden had to see Arune, he had to face that Arune knew how pathetic Aiden was. That Arune could tell Harvard at any time.
A murderous expression might have flitted across Aiden’s face, because Colin from Iceland sounded slightly nervous when he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Better than all right,” Aiden lied through his teeth.
Nobody was more expert than Aiden at seeming like he was having the best time when he was having the worst time. If other people didn’t know Aiden was unhappy, maybe it wasn’t true.
He just wanted Harvard to stop paying attention to Arune. He wanted Harvard to look at him.
Aiden backed himself up against a tree and beckoned to the Icelandic guy. “Come ravish me,” he commanded.
Naturally, his dance partner came, mouth and hands eager, no more personal to Aiden than the tree he was arching his back against.
The hanging lanterns and the stars were a swinging blur in Aiden’s tired vision, curves of light becoming glittering scythes that might cut, the whole party scene transformed into a brightly menacing fever dream. The only relief was the steady dark of Harvard’s eyes, turning to him at last.
The trees were golden and dying back home, but in this town the leaves were still green, pretending to be summer. Aiden would have kissed anyone to draw Harvard’s dark, steady eyes to him like they were now.
Aiden laced his fingers in his dance partner’s hair—why did anyone have stupid long hair anyway—and drew him in tight against his own body, kissing harder, trying to kiss right through him.
When Aiden started undoing the buttons on his partner’s shirt, Harvard left the group he was dancing with and came over.
“Could I have a word?”
“We’re kind of busy,” began Colin, but Aiden shoved him back, giving Harvard enough space to step in and take hold of Aiden’s wrist.
When Harvard pulled him deeper into the orchard and toward the sounding sea, Aiden went.
“Hey,” Harvard said. “Maybe tone down the public displays of affection a little there, buddy. The… the coaches were looking at you.”
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 H
arvard’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.
“Whatever you say, Harvard,” Arune said doubtfully. “At some point, though, I don’t know if it matters whether you’re thoughtless or mean. The results stay the same. I’m just worried he’ll hurt you. Like he hurts everyone else.”
It hurt Harvard that he knew what it was like to kiss Aiden. Back at Kings Row, Aiden had kissed Harvard until his senses reeled and the world tipped into nonsense. Harvard had never kissed anyone but Aiden, and to Aiden, a kiss meant nothing. His best friend hurting him on purpose had never seemed like a possibility… until now. But now Harvard was hurt and Arune was right; Harvard was just like everyone else.
Looking back on it, Aiden had been careful when they’d embarked on their ill-advised fake-dating plan. He’d made sure to check in that everything was okay with Harvard, that Harvard wouldn’t be alarmed when everything was new to him. He hadn’t acted as if Harvard were an idiot for being overwhelmed by Aiden and not knowing what to do. Even though Aiden must have thought the whole plan was stupid and pathetic, he’d been kind.
Well. Harvard knew what Aiden really thought now.
A kiss is nothing.
That wasn’t true for Harvard. Still, he had to accept it was true for Aiden, no matter how much of a lie it seemed. He felt as if he’d lost sight of his best friend somehow, but perhaps he’d never seen him clearly in the first place. He shouldn’t be angry with Aiden for being the person he’d always been. It wasn’t Aiden’s fault if Harvard had imagined Aiden as someone he wasn’t. It wasn’t Aiden’s problem if Harvard had made up someone to fall in love with. That was Harvard’s responsibility.
Another thing Harvard was responsible for was his team, and he could see Eugene wilting with tiredness across the way.
“Sorry, I see something I should take care of,” he told Arune.
“Classic Harvard,” said Arune as Harvard walked off.
Eugene was sitting in a chair, swaying slightly with fatigue as Melodie, Bastien, and Marcel danced around the chair in a circle. Even aloof Marcel was looking cheerful. Bastien spun Melodie around so that her long blond hair spun out like ribbons and she laughed. Harvard liked Bastien well enough when he was with his friends. When Harvard thought of Bastien humiliating Nicholas, though, or Bastien with Aiden, it was different.
With an effort, he smiled at everyone as he said he’d come to force Eugene to bed.
Bastien didn’t smile back. “Did you and your friend Aiden disappear into the trees earlier?”
Harvard raised an eyebrow. “That’s none of your business.”
Aiden was none of this guy’s business. Harvard had always hated the guys who got jealous and possessive about Aiden. He’d never wanted to be like them. But he was the one who had been jealous earlier. He was no better than Bastien.
“Did you see my match earlier?” asked Bastien with a slight sneer. “What did you think of it?”
Maybe he was a little better than Bastien.
“I did see your match,” said Ha
rvard. “I didn’t think much of it.”
He let his tone say, very clearly, I don’t think much of you.
Bastien’s lip curled. “Nicholas wasn’t much of a challenge. None of you Kings Row boys would be, besides Seiji. That’s clear.”
“Excuse me?” said Harvard.
Bastien’s voice was loud enough that others were listening by now. Even the coaches and trainers, talking in a knot over in the far corner, turned around to see the source of the dispute. “I heard you’re the captain of the Kings Row team. The worst team Camp Menton has ever seen. Must be pretty embarrassing.”
Harvard folded his arms.
“I guess if the captain of the team kicked your ass,” he said, “that would be pretty embarrassing for you. Let’s have a match on the last day of camp. Let’s make it the last match. The one everybody goes home talking about.”
Bastien shrugged. “Why not? Is there anything you want as a reward?”
“There’s nothing I want from you,” said Harvard. “Just quit badmouthing my team.”
“I’ll put fifty dollars on my captain to win,” announced Coach Williams from the group of coaches and trainers. “Now scram, everybody. It’s almost curfew.”
Harvard escorted Eugene to his room. Melodie came along. She and Eugene were holding hands.
“Eugene, mon petit chou, my friend is going to duel your captain,” said Melodie. “We are star-crossed.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but team above all,” said Eugene. “Bros before… I can’t call you that—I respect you and your awesome fencing prowess.”
“I’ve known Bastien most of my life,” murmured Melodie sadly. “I must support him. Age before beauties.”
Eugene grinned at being called a beauty, then concentrated on the problem. “What if Bastien ate something he was allergic to? It happens all the time by total accident, Captain.…”
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