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.”
“No, I was glad to hear it. That’s great,” Brianna told him. “You stick to that. You seem like a good kid, Aiden.”
“No, I’m not,” Aiden said. “I am devastatingly good-looking, however.”
Brianna laughed, then sniffed. “Sorry I won’t get to meet you.”
He’d always expected to grow up like his father, Aiden realized. But he hadn’t been raised only by his father. There had been a succession of beautiful, brilliant women. Some of them had cared about him. Most of them hadn’t. All of them had left, because his father was who he was. Still, in the end, Aiden would rather be like his gorgeous and not-entirely-evil stepmothers.
“You can still meet me,” Aiden proposed. “I’m planning to get-together with another almost stepmother of mine, someday soon. You could come, and we could all trash my dad at a Michelin-star restaurant and put the bill on his tab.”
“We’ll see,” Brianna answered, but Aiden thought it sounded like she was in for a meeting of the Almost-Stepmothers Club.
He hung up the phone and looked around the ballroom of the yacht. Catering had set up a huge buffet, so Aiden wandered over to the desserts and took three cupcakes. He ate only the icing off the top, though that was depraved cupcake hedonism. He was feeling low, and so it was off with the cupcakes’ heads.
He was getting kicked out of Kings Row, and it was all his own fault. Everything he’d ever tried to make himself feel better, to feel less alone, hadn’t worked.
He texted the relevant group chat that his after-party was off.
There were several boys at Camp Menton, and several more in Menton, who would come running if Aiden called. They always did.
Long ago, Aiden and Harvard had been walking across the Kings Row campus together, and he’d been trying to ask Harvard out on a date. Harvard hadn’t understood, maybe because Harvard didn’t want to understand, and Aiden was feeling thoroughly dispirited. Then another guy had whistled at him, and Aiden had thought, Why not? Why shouldn’t he get to feel wanted? Why shouldn’t he take a little comfort where he could? Harvard wouldn’t care. It was like being under a highly ironic curse, being irresistible to everybody except the one person who mattered.
There had been comfort at Kings Row, as well as everything Aiden truly loved: Harvard and fencing. Kings Row was the first place where Aiden had ever fit in, felt wanted, realized all his dreams of being extraordinary, lived with someone who he loved and who loved him back. He would never get to go back again. There was nothing Aiden could do to make himself feel better, in the face of this loss.
38 NICHOLAS
Several hours into the party, Nicholas was carrying cups of lemonade, which was fizzy in Europe, when he spotted Eugene sitting on a picnic bench all alone and oddly forlorn. He made a detour away from the clearing of fairy lights and music, toward his teammate.
“Hey, bro,” he said, wandering over and gently watering Eugene’s head with lemonade. “Having a good party? Did you see Seiji’s hilarious non-dancing? Where’s Melodie?”
“Uh,” said Eugene. “She’s with her friends, I think. She dumped me an hour ago. Said now was that special time in a girl’s life when she must devote herself entirely to the blade.”
“Right,” said Nicholas. “Tough break.”
Actually, he could see Melodie’s point, though he definitely wouldn’t have put it that way. Still, he felt bad for Eugene.
“Ah, I see your teammate has come to comfort you,” observed Melodie from a sheltering tree. “As it should be. I simply wanted to check on you, but since I am here let me say my goodbyes. Nicholas, you need to bulk up, but… to my surprise, it’s been a pleasure.”
Nicholas glanced uneasily at Eugene, not wanting to be a traitor, but Eugene nodded encouragement. Nicholas leaned forward and bumped his fist against Melodie’s.
“For me, too,” Nicholas told Melodie.
She had already turned her attention back to Eugene, her keen gaze melting.
“Eugene,” said Melodie. “You make the best protein shakes I ever tasted. You’re a loyal friend, and you are right about many things. Including hypertrophy specific training. I won’t forget you.”
“I won’t forget you, either,” said Eugene.
He stared after Melodie wistfully as she rejoined her friends. Bastien hesitated, then looked Nicholas’s way.
“Nicholas, I meant to say, thanks for the match. It was great.”
“Ha, no, it wasn’t,” said Nicholas cheerfully. Bastien reflected Nicholas’s grin back to him. “Would you show me a couple of those moves you made, but in slow motion?” Nicholas asked with hope.
“I’d be pleased to,” Bastien told him. “But you mustn’t feel bad if you can’t get the hang of the moves right away. They are rather advanced. I feel a little bad for showing off, but the prize was a date with Aiden, so I felt I must win in style.”
“Well, since the prize for winning the fencing match was a date with Aiden”—Nicholas raised his eyebrows—“it was kinda a relief I lost.”
Bastien laughed. “Anyway. I’m sorry, Nicholas.”
“Forget about it,” said Nicholas.
Bastien turned back to Marcel and Melodie. The Bordeaux Blades enjoying their last night together before Marcel had to go back to America. Across the orchard, the Leventis twins were laughing at each others’ jokes, and Nicholas couldn’t tell which was the one who usually frowned. He supposed it would be nice to have a twin, someone to learn fencing and laugh with.
Well. Nicholas might not have a family, but he had his team.
Nicholas leaned against Eugene comfortingly. “Sorry, Eugene.”
“Hey, no, bro. It’s been great to come to Menton, even if I couldn’t fence. I’ve met so many amazing people. You know who’s super nice?” Eugene answered his own question without pausing. “Jesse Coste.”
Nicholas stared at Eugene in shocked betrayal. Sadly, Eugene took this silence as encouragement.
“He’s totally my Camp Menton bro. He helped Melodie with me when I had my allergic reaction, and tonight he sat with me when I was sitting alone, feeling sorry for myself, and told me tough break for getting sick and not being able to train at camp. Get this—he asked if my dad would be mad at me for not fencing. Like, why would my dad blame me for being sick?”
As Eugene told Nicholas about Jesse Coste’s great personality, Nicholas thought back to Marcel’s words about Jesse being the best and drawing the best to him.
“Wait, do we hate Jesse?” Eugene asked, registering Nicholas’s silence. He sounded panicked. “Nobody told me we hate Jesse! I thought we could all be bros.”
Nicholas thought of Jesse Coste, who made Seiji go tense as a struck blade, but who was inextricably tangled up with Seiji despite that. Jesse, who had chosen Exton over Kings Ro
w because he didn’t have to cling to the only link to his father. If Jesse ever considered anyone a rival, it was Seiji and not Nicholas. Jesse knew with unshakable certainty that he was the best.
“No, Eugene,” said Nicholas. “Jesse and I are not, and will never be, bros.”
39 SEIJI
Nicholas had forced Seiji out onto the dance floor, which was a hideous experience. Then Nicholas went away and came back with Eugene and a mystifying story of doomed romance that they all had to listen to.
Seiji had heard that bad things always came in threes, and that seemed true. Next, Nicholas and Bobby stunned the populace by doing karaoke. Eugene had gone first with a soulful ballad about lost love, and Seiji had found that horrible. Nicholas and Bobby’s enthusiastic duet was much worse.
“I hate everything that’s happening,” Seiji informed Dante. “Don’t you?”
“Nope,” said Dante, smiling over at Bobby.
It occurred to Seiji that right now, Nicholas’s (terrible!) and Bobby’s (rather nice) singing was providing him with a cover. This gave Seiji the opportunity to resolve an issue that had been worrying him.
He made his way to the corner where the adults were talking and had a brief private discussion with Coach Robillard.
Once the duet was over, Bobby and Nicholas returned. Instantly, Dante stood and asked Bobby to go on a walk.
Nicholas came over and slumped gracelessly onto the bench beside Seiji. Almost everyone at the party was wearing some type of formal wear, except for Nicholas, who was wearing ripped black jeans and his Kings Row hoodie. He was drumming his fingers on the surface of the picnic table. He was an irritating mess, and no doubt he would soon pester Seiji into engaging in another uncomfortable social activity.
Overall, Seiji found this to be a pleasant party.
40 HARVARD
Menton harbor after the sun went down was like an oil painting of heaven in the evening. The towers and buildings of the town still glowed sunshine gold, holding on to the sunset like light trapped in amber. The sea was black already but painted with electric lights. Bold, brilliant stripes of color went blurred at the edges against the waves, as though the oil in the painting was running.
It was all so beautiful, and Harvard didn’t care. He just wanted to see Aiden.
As he ran down the esplanade toward the waterfront, he passed by Bobby and Dante, taking a walk along the harbor by moonlight. Bobby was shivering slightly in his thin silk top.
“Here,” said Dante, taking off his blazer. “There’s a postcard from Italy for you in the pocket,” he added when Bobby hesitated.
Bobby’s face scrunched in a confused smile. “Why did you get me a postcard when you saw me at breakfast that morning, and you knew you were going to see me that evening?”
Dante shrugged. “Guess I was thinking about you.”
Bobby hesitated, then gave a sudden decisive nod, and Dante draped the blazer onto Bobby’s thin shoulders. It was extremely big on him.
“Thanks, Dante,” said Bobby, wrapping the blazer around himself like a huge blanket. “It’s really warm.”
“Bobby…,” said Dante.
“Yeah?” Bobby glanced up. “Talk to me.”
Dante visibly searched for words, failed to find them, and muttered, “Tell you later.”
He sent you postcards every day whenever he went away, to say, Thinking of you, pointed out Arune’s voice in Harvard’s mind, and Harvard winced.
The yachts were lined up in the harbor like tethered white clouds floating on the water. Harvard didn’t need to ask anyone which boat belonged to Aiden’s father. He knew it would be the largest and most ostentatious.
As he ran along the dock and then scrambled onto the yacht, he saw stars shivering in the sea, faint light wavering on the surface of dark, troubled waters. He was terrified of what he had to do, but he wasn’t letting Aiden down again.
The yacht was suspiciously still and silent, when Harvard had expected the happy bustle of a party. He crept through the mirrored hallways until he finally heard the low, familiar murmur of Aiden’s voice.
“I shouldn’t,” Aiden was saying. “It’s too wicked. How could I live with myself?”
Harvard hesitated, with his hand pressed to the gleaming mahogany of the door. Was some guy fooling around with Aiden already? A sick, scraping feeling began in his chest, as if there were a trapdoor opening there and all of Harvard’s insides were falling through.
“I don’t care,” Aiden decided. “I have no conscience. I’m eating a fifth cupcake.”
Harvard drew in a deep, relieved breath and pushed open the door to reveal a ballroom, a gleaming parquet floor and a chandelier like a multifaceted crystal glass filled with ice. The sliding double doors of the ballroom were folded back to reveal the master bedroom, which seemed to be mostly a wide bed made up with white linen and turquoise silk sheets. Aiden was sitting at the foot of the bed in formal wear. His hair was loose, and his bow tie untied. Harvard Paw was propped up to sit by his side, and he had a frosted cupcake in hand. Aiden was also whispering seductively to his teddy bear, but Harvard didn’t feel equipped to deal with that issue.
Aiden glanced up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened fractionally, but that was all. Harvard looked at those well-known and well-beloved eyes, a darker green than usual, and thought, Troubled waters. This was his fault. He had to make it right.
“Hey, Harvard,” murmured Aiden.
“Hey, Aiden,” said Harvard. “I love you.”
Aiden blinked and put his cupcake down. “I love you, too, buddy,” he said in a light, careful voice, his words like the footsteps of someone walking a tightrope over blades. “Is something wrong?”
Yes, something was wrong. Something was wrong with Aiden, and now Harvard was looking properly, without his own assumptions and doubts in the way, it was so clear. Aiden’s mouth pulled tight on the word buddy and always had. How had Harvard not seen before?
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” asked Harvard. Then it occurred to him that he’d come to confess to Aiden, not force Aiden to any painful revelations. He’d caused Aiden enough pain. He continued, after a brief pause, “What happened to the party?”
“Called it off. I’m not really in a party mood,” said Aiden.
“Are you feeling sick?” Harvard asked anxiously, then realized the more likely answer. “Oh God. Am I intruding? Do you have plans?”
Terror was a rapid, continuous rush in Harvard’s ears, like the sound of the sea. Aiden only shook his head, his face confused.
“I can go if you do,” Harvard told him gently. “I will go. I won’t stay long, and I don’t expect anything from you at all. I just wanted to say this: Aiden, I’m so sorry.”
There was a smile beginning to curl up at the corners of Aiden’s mouth, indulgent. It might be the last time Aiden ever smiled at him that way.
“I don’t have plans. I thought… what’s the point? And I didn’t have an answer. Why are you sorry? Whatever it is, I forgive you. If you killed somebody, it’s fine. We have the Mediterranean to hide the body in. Harvard Paw and I will provide a foolproof alibi. Come tell me, I’m curious. What horrible thing have you done?”
Harvard had always wanted to do the right thing, to fix problems and never cause them. Because he’d tried to think of other people first, he’d never imagined he could have power over Aiden. He’d assumed Aiden had the power, that Harvard was the only one who could be hurt, and Harvard was too scared of being hurt to take down his defences and tell Aiden what he wanted. Harvard was still scared. He didn’t know if he could do this.
He looked at Aiden’s smile, which Aiden was wearing even though he was in pain. For Harvard’s sake. Harvard felt something almost like seasickness. The ground he’d stood on all these years was gone.
This was the person he loved best in the world, the person Harvard would have sworn he’d never hurt. But he had hurt him. He had, and until he told the truth, he would still be hurting Aiden.<
br />
Harvard gathered all his courage, and confessed, “I lied to you.”
Amusement died in Aiden’s voice. “What?”
“I’m so sorry, Aiden,” said Harvard. “I know you rely on me to tell you the truth, to always be there for you. I always intended to be that, to be a safe place for you, but I didn’t manage it. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to get hurt. Do you remember when I told you that I only wanted to be friends because I didn’t want to fall in love with you?”
His voice distant now, Aiden answered, “Of course I remember.”
Of course he did. Aiden had trusted him, and Harvard had lied, but it was time to tell the truth now. He was so scared of what would happen when he said it, scared of what might change, scared he was too late. But he had to face the truth.
He couldn’t watch Aiden’s face when he told him. So he fixed his eyes on the ballroom floor instead, and began to speak.
“That was the lie I told you. I’d only realized what I wanted the night before. I was terrified of losing you. I should have realized how I felt about you before, but how do you see the planet you live on? The air you breathe? It was always there. It was too big for me to see. You were always just there. I could look at you every day, the same way I can look at the stars every day. I never had to think about how much I wanted to look.”
“I don’t—I don’t understand.” Aiden sounded fraught. “What are you saying?”
“I love you.” Desperate to avoid any further terrible and painful confusion, frantic to get it all out, Harvard clarified: “I’m in love with you.”
Quiet followed, broken only by the sound of the boat rocking.
Harvard waited, his heart a hammer counting the silent seconds. There was a pit in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. The more the silence grew, the wider the pit yawned. He’d said it wrong, he was too late, he’d missed his chance, their friendship was over, he—
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