by Lori L. Otto
I don’t look directly at her, but I can see Coley vigorously shaking her head no.
“Say no!” she whispers loud enough for me to hear.
“No,” I lie and start telling myself all the things I need to do to make it look like I’m being honest. Maintain eye contact. Keep your face relaxed. Don’t fidget. Don’t blush. I can’t control that one. “She’s downstairs at Starbucks writing. I asked her to give me some time when you called.”
Now I see Coley nod.
“Trey, why is it okay for her to stay with you all week, but it wasn’t on your radar to invite me to stay with you over Christmas break?” she asks point blank.
“Zai, can we please talk about this on Sunday, when you’re here?”
“At your place?” she asks.
“Yes,” I concede. “Here at my place.”
She smiles. “Then, yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I force a smile back at her. “Looking forward to seeing you, Zai.”
“You, too, Tria. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I tell her, my stomach in knots at the utterance of those words. “Bye.”
“How does Asher know what’s going on at your place, Trey?”
“Maybe he’s paid off a doorman,” I say. “Maybe he’s watching, I don’t know. I guess the worst damage he can do has been done. Fuck,” I mutter. It’s the only word that really embodies my frustration right now. I hate that she backed me into a corner like that, and I hate that I just told her I loved her in front of Coley. “What I feel for her isn’t like what I once felt for her, Coley.”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Trey. She’s your girlfriend.” I swallow hard, unable to look her in the eyes. “If you need to cancel our plans Sunday, it’s fine. I still have my ticket on the other flight.”
“No, we’re still going. We’re scheduled to be back by six. It’ll put me back in Manhattan right when I need to be here,” I explain. I shut my laptop and push it aside, getting up and going to the dining room table where the pizza has gotten cold. “I’ll heat this up.” I take our plates and set them on the counter, turning on the oven to preheat. Facing away from her, I lean against the kitchen island.
I’ve felt very little guilt with Coley here this week. Even though everything has been completely platonic between us, I know I should feel some remorse for allowing another woman to live with me while I’m dating Zaina. I know this is how I should feel because I’m feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of Zaina staying with me, knowing that my heart is with Coley.
My heart. How can Coley be okay with it? Does she not feel the same for me?
“You won’t have much time to work on things next week, huh?”
I turn around and lean down on the countertop, propping myself up on my forearms and looking directly at her. “I’ll have time. As much time as you need. I just need Sunday night for her.”
She looks down at the table and nods, but then glances back up with her brow slightly furrowed. “She’ll be okay with that?” she asks.
I decide to not tell her now what I have to do, not wanting her to think it’s a knee-jerk reaction to anything between us. “It won’t be up to her.”
chapter thirteen
As soon as my last class ends on Friday, I rush to my apartment and change clothes, finding some strange need to suit up for my impromptu meeting with Rayan, the president of the Columbia chapter of Sigma Rho. He’s always at the house on Friday afternoons, getting things ready for whatever’s going on in the evenings.
Reading over the letter I’ve composed one last time, I make only one slight change before printing it out and signing my name. After folding it up, I find my fraternity pin and put them both in an envelope together and make my way out the door.
When I get to the brownstone on frat row, I’m greeted at the door by both Stanley and Asher. I tense up immediately and feel my pulse begin to race. If I’d had one drink to lower my inhibitions, I think I would have hit the guy the second I saw him.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Holland?”
“Asher, come on,” Stanley says, stepping in between us. “It’s just a big misunderstanding. Right, Trey? This article he told me you were working on. I mean, you don’t believe he did anything wrong, do you?”
“That’s not for me to say,” I respond stoically.
“How’s Zaina?” Asher asks me.
“I don’t know how you got her number, but don’t you ever call her again.”
“You in the hot seat? I didn’t get you into any trouble, did I? Surely she knew you had another girl staying at your place this week, right?”
I glare at him, but choose not to respond.
“How’s Coley?”
“Stay away from her.”
“Only if she asks nicely. She texts me, you know?”
“What?”
He pulls up his phone and shows me a long string of messages that appear to be between him and Coley. He scrolls too quickly for me to see what they talk about, but if those are real, I’m upset that she never mentioned that to me.
“It’s just a matter of time before she agrees to go out with me. I’m breaking down her walls.”
“I mean it, Asher, you stay the hell away from her!”
“Why? You and her got something going on?”
I shake my head, refusing to dignify his question with a response.
“Is there a reason you’re here, Trey?” Stan asks.
“Well, shit. This is my fraternity, too,” I say, even though I came here with the sole purpose of quitting. It’s going to be on my terms.
“Until you and Asher sort this out, we have to keep the peace, though. Asher was a member first.”
“I’m making this easy for all of you. Is Rayan in his room?”
“What are you doing, Trey?” Stanley holds onto my arm as I start to ascend the stairs. “Don’t do this. You’re quitting?”
“Too much has happened that I don’t want to be a part of.”
“Like what?”
“Asher, why don’t you fill him in?”
“I don’t know to what you’re referring.”
“Like hell you don’t. Be careful who you bring around him, Stan.” I know he has a sister who’s a freshman, and she’s been to this house on more than one occasion. I look at Asher as I deliver my final line before finding Rayan. “Be careful who you trust.”
I knock on the doorframe of his room and wait for Rayan to look up before going inside.
“Is Zaina in town? Looks like you’re dressed up for a fancy date.”
“Not yet,” I tell him with barely a smile. “I’m here to talk to you.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard there’s some friction between you and Asher. Something I can help with?” he asks. “Surely any difference of opinion you two have can be worked through. We’re all brothers here.”
“No,” I tell him, handing him the envelope. “We’re not.”
“What is this, Trey?”
“It’s a courtesy letter to you, letting you know why I’m quitting Sigma Rho. My pin is inside, too. Rayan, I can’t be a part of this fraternity anymore.”
“Why?”
“It’s in the letter.”
“Will you at least let me read it before you make this decision final?” He hands me back the pin. I hold it in my palm, but even if he told me Asher was out, the fact that the fraternity has provided him with so many opportunities to get away with what he has, I couldn’t remain a part of it. There’s no way I was the only guy who ever saw him being inappropriate with a girl. I refuse to believe that.
I sit on a leather sofa, awaiting his response to the things I’ve written. He’s silent while he reads, and when he’s finished, he folds up the letter, puts it back in the envelope, and rips it to shreds before tossing it in the trash.
“Those are some wild accusations, Trey.”
“I believe them all to be true.”
“I suspect you do. I don’t beli
eve them, though.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, but when the facts come out, I hope you’ll give them more consideration.”
“When the facts come out. When, you say,” he says. “Come on, Trey. Let’s settle this without getting the public involved. Asher has resources.”
I stand up, forcing him to do the same. “First of all, I don’t need his resources. Second of all, this isn’t an issue that even involves me. I’m merely a reporter.”
“Then don’t report it.”
“It’s my duty to do so.”
“You took an oath of loyalty.”
“To be loyal to men who held the same moral and ethical standards I do. Asher doesn’t fit that description. I question if he ever did, even before I knew about these crimes he’s committed.”
“Allegedly committed.”
“He did it, Rayan.”
“If he did, he wouldn’t be a free man, now, would he?”
“He won’t be for long. And I, unlike him, am a man of my word. If you guys continue to side with him, I guarantee it will be the wrong side.”
“Get out of this house,” Asher says, stepping into the room. “Stop spreading your bullshit lies.”
“Fine,” I say, not wanting to get into a physical confrontation where I’ll obviously be outnumbered. I slip out of the room, my fists clenched. It isn’t until I reach the bottom of the stairs where Stanley stands by the door that I realize I still have the pin. It seems somehow fitting that he’s the one I end up giving it to. As my big brother, he was the one that pinned it on me when I was inducted.
“That’s it?” he asks, taking the small piece of metal from me.
“When have I ever lied to you?”
Stan doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s considering my question. Still, he opens the door, ushering me out of the fraternity house. With that, he’s chosen his side, too. The rest of them, I’ll be fine without. I feel betrayed by Stanley, though.
As I walk back to my apartment, I can’t get the images of those text messages out of my head. Surely Coley would have told me if they’d been communicating like that. I’m positive he made it up; put someone else’s name in his phone so it would look like he was texting her. He obviously knows that I like her and how much that would drive me crazy.
When I get home, I do a little homework, but my mind is elsewhere. After an hour, I put on a movie in hopes of escaping. When that doesn’t work, I attempt to work on one of my novels. By eight, though, every other word I’m typing is either “Coley” or “text,” so I close my document without saving it, knowing everything I’ve written is crap. In preparation for my trip to the lake house tomorrow, I decide to go fill up my SUV so I won’t have to make any stops in the morning.
Somehow, after making a stop at the gas station and Starbucks, I end up outside of Pryana’s apartment. It’s probably not the smartest place to be, either, with the investigation still ongoing. Using the speed dial in my car, I call Coley.
“What are you up to?” she asks me.
“Something very stalker-ish. Something’s bugging me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you come outside?”
“Are you at Pree’s?”
“There’s a good chance I am. There’s also a good chance that undercover cops are watching my every move right now, too, so it’d really help me out if you came to my rescue and made me look a little less like a creeper.”
“Why are you here?”
“Can we talk about it in my car?” I plead.
“Oh, sure,” she says, and I see her opening the door to Pryana’s apartment as she tells our friend where she’s going. Pryana’s responding, but I can’t make out her words. “You’re right,” Coley says to me after she leaves. “The cops here did just let Pree know a suspicious Range Rover pulled up.” I can see her smile from here.
“Great,” I say, unlocking the door for her. After she gets in, I hang up the call. “Thanks for coming out.”
“You’re welcome.” She looks at me with concern. “You’re upset.”
“It shows?”
“You mentioned it.”
“Right… so I quit Sig Rho today.”
“I’m sorry, Trey.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not why I’m upset. I saw Asher there, and we kind of had words. He was taunting me about something, and I’m sure he’s lying, but until I hear it from your mouth, it’s going to drive me crazy.”
“What is it?”
I look into her eyes as I say it. “He said you’ve been texting him.” Her gaze quickly diverts to the phone in her lap, and my lungs deflate in disappointment. “How could you?”
“I had every right to.”
“But after all he did?”
“I’m not anymore, Trey. And it’s not what you think. It was never what you’re thinking it was, or what he may have made it out to be.”
“Then please, Coley,” I beg her, “tell me what it was.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because it’s Asher… and because it matters. It shouldn’t matter to me, I know. It’s not supposed to matter. But I can’t help that it does. If I don’t know, I won’t sleep.”
“It’s crossing a line.”
“Worrying about you isn’t crossing a line. Caring about you isn’t crossing a line.”
Her gaze bores through me, and my cheeks burn hot. I don’t look away, though, even if she can see the truth. “I didn’t tell you this when it was happening because you guys were friends and it would have only hurt your friendship. He was constantly texting me, begging me to go out with him. I thought it was cute at first. I was flattered. I responded and probably encouraged it by doing so, but then it became a nightly thing. And then it started getting a little weird. I stopped answering him. And then when I saw him on campus, outside of The Wit, he was relentless with the pick-up lines. It got to the point that I’d walk the other way if I saw him or pretend like I was on a phone call. I could see how frustrated–how agitated–that made him. Then, about a week before formal, he stopped everything. I thought he’d moved on.
“I found out he’d asked Pryana to the dance. Of course, I’d confided in her already my concerns about him, but she insisted it was strictly platonic. He never gave her any reason to worry.”
“How could you not tell me this, laureate? Do you know how many things I would have done differently knowing just one of those things?” I ask her.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I also wanted to prove I could take care of myself.”
I scoff at that response. “You had no idea what you were dealing with.”
“No, Trey, but none of us did.”
“Do you still have his texts?” She nods. “Why’d you keep them?”
“I never had a good feeling about him.”
“Are they incriminating?”
“I think they paint him to be a little… frustrated. Sexually. But he never made any threats or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says.
“Do you go back and read them?”
“Like, do I wish I’d said yes to his advances or something?”
“I mean… not now obviously…”
“Not ever. If I ever had the desire to date him, Trey, I would have. I like someone else.”
I only glance at her briefly this time. I know she means me. “Don’t delete the messages.” I stare directly ahead of me as I talk to her. “You should probably save screenshots or something if you think they may help Pryana’s case in any way.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t leave her alone anymore. Even having people watching, she doesn’t feel safe.”
“I understand.”
“Have a safe trip tomorrow,” she tells me.
“Thanks. Try to get some homework done.”
“Call me when you get home?”
“Sure, yeah. Of course. Sorry about the whole… coming-over-stalker thing.”
“Sorry I didn’t
tell you about the texts.”
“Sorry I questioned you, laureate. Sweet dreams.”
chapter fourteen
It feels good to get out of the city this morning and to take my Range Rover out for a scenic drive to my parents’ new lake house in Connecticut. My dad still owns the smaller, cozier home on the same lake, the one that I was used to visiting on weekends growing up, but this one is much more accommodating for our large, extended family and has all the latest technology and upscale design touches. It’s extravagant, but after years of living what can be considered a modest lifestyle–for a billionaire, and by now the country’s richest man–he decided it was time to splurge a little.
Chris, my uncle on my mother’s side, drove in last night. His wife greets me at the door when I pull up. “How was your drive?” Anna asks me.
“It would have been nicer with leaves on the trees, but it’s still good to know that open land still exists out here,” I answer her, stooping down to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Spring’s right around the corner.”
“Where’s Chris?”
“Cleaning up the kitchen and talking to Eli on the phone,” she says. Their only son had moved to Portland with his band, but had been struggling to make ends meet. He had a college degree, but his passion was music–he just wasn’t the best musician in the world, and unfortunately, no one else in his band was, either. My dad told me that Eli would check in every other week with his parents, mainly to ask for more money.
“How’s he doing?” I ask as I follow her inside.
“He got a job last week as a waiter,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m just waiting for him to figure things out. He doesn’t like listening to my advice.”
“I'm sorry, Anna.”
“He’s twenty-eight. How is it that you have a better head on your shoulders?” she asks wistfully with a frustrated smile.
I shake my head, deflecting her compliment. “I have no desire to let my father down. I don’t want to be a failure to either of my parents. I see Eli as a risk-taker, and I don’t think that’s all bad.”
“Calculated risks aren’t bad. Jacks takes calculated risks,” she says of Dad. “Eli?” She laughs to herself. “He’s just so impulsive all the time. I guess sometimes it’s worked for him. Just not recently.”
