Will, who was lying in bed, studying the patterns on the ceiling, didn’t even look at him. “Hard to be late to something I’m not going to.”
“Don’t be stupid, of course you’re coming.” Charlie helped himself to Will’s dresser and started pulling out garments at random. “Do you have anything that doesn’t suck?”
“What are you doing?”
“You dress like Wilford Brimley. It’s tragic.”
“Why do you care how I dress?”
“Because if you’re going to be seen with me, you need to look like you’re not about to apply for an AARP membership.”
Will grunted and sat up on his elbows. “I’m not.”
“Well, I know that. You have to be, like, at least fifty to—”
“I’m not going to be seen with you.”
Charlie looked up, frowning. “What? Did I do something?”
“No. I’m just not in the mood.”
He snickered. “You know, you sound like my last three girlfriends?”
“I think that says something about you.”
Charlie rolled his eyes, waving one of Will’s undershirts at him. “Dude. It’s Friday night. Friday. The weather’s good and we’re both free. You’re not going to mope around here.”
“I have class work to do.”
“Uh huh. I see you’re really hard at work on that impersonate a dead man assignment.” Charlie snorted at his own joke, then turned back to Will’s dresser. “Okay. Here’s something that doesn’t suck.” He pulled free a pair of dark wash jeans. “And what’s this? I knew you had some good stuff. Why is it all buried?”
Will didn’t answer—partly because he was embarrassed and partly because it was none of Charlie’s business. When he’d first announced his intent to return to college, Georgiana had insisted on taking him shopping for clothes the modern student would wear, as opposed to the baggy tees he hid behind, or the occasional suits he had to wear when dealing with the company.
Elizabeth had seen him in one of Georgiana’s selections the morning he’d taken her to campus, and the look on her face had been…
Brief. It had been brief. Because of Wickham.
He scowled and flung his head back against the pillow.
“Darcy. Darcy. Get your sorry ass up.” Charlie threw a selection of clothes at him without awaiting a response. “We’re going out.”
Will grunted. “No.”
“Darcy—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Then get dressed and meet me downstairs. You and me are going to go out and have a damn good time tonight. We haven’t done that since the semester began.”
“You’ve been a little preoccupied.”
“Well, Jane’s hanging out with Elizabeth tonight, so I’m all yours.”
“Great. Everyone loves to be the second pick.”
“You’re awfully close to whining, you know. I might have to record this.” And with a grin, Charlie drew his cell phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Why so gwumpy?” he asked, adopting an exaggerated baby voice. “Does Will need to get waid?”
Will rolled his eyes and sat up. “You’re pathetic.”
“I think Will needs to get waid,” Charlie repeated, maneuvering the phone so it mimed nodding. Then he whirled it around and beamed into the screen. “Come on, gang. Let’s see if we can find that special someone to put the spring back in Will Darcy’s step. Away!”
He bounded into the hallway with a dramatic flourish.
Will sighed, seizing the jeans Charlie had chucked at him off the bed. “One. Two…”
Charlie materialized in the door, beaming. “See you downstairs!” And he was gone again before Will could contradict him.
* * *
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“What?”
Elizabeth cupped her mouth and bellowed, “I knew this was a bad idea!”
“What do you mean?” Lydia had yet to stop bouncing in her seat, which by itself was very distracting. The fact that she couldn’t seem to bounce in time with the music was almost enough to give a girl a headache. “This place is boss!”
Elizabeth frowned. What the hell did that even mean?
“Oh, there’s Kitty!” Lydia clapped her hands together. “You’ll never guess who asked her out.”
“Probably because I can’t hear you.”
“What?”
Elizabeth sighed, rolled her eyes, and formally gave up on verbal communication. She could be back at the dorm, starting to put together the outline for the presentation she, Lydia, and Mary had to make before their final paper was due. Hell, she could be trying to get into The Gunslinger for the umpteenth time. She could be catching up on sleep.
But no. Her mother had called and put her in a mood where she desperately needed to get out. So when Lydia had come asking if she wanted to blow off steam, she’d agreed without fight.
All that to say, she had no one to blame but herself.
The club they’d chosen was also a popular refuge for Meryton students, which somewhat defeated the purpose of a change in scenery.
The table had been abandoned for a while, save for her and Lydia—after everyone downed their first shot, they had hit the dance floor, serenaded by what could only be described as the college-girl mating calls. Even Mary, who often appeared to have her own definition of fun hidden away in a secret dictionary, was enjoying herself, though the vodka martinis had undoubtedly had a hand in it.
Elizabeth felt every bit her age. She didn’t have too many years on the others, but the years she did have might as well be decades.
“Lizzie. Lizzie!” Lydia was shaking her arm. “Is that—oh, it is!”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up. “What?”
“That’s either Charlie Bingley or Jane has some ‘splainin’ to do.”
There had either been a lull in the music or Elizabeth’s ears had acclimated to a new decibel level, because she could suddenly hear just fine. Fine enough to know what she’d see when she turned around. She twisted in her seat just as Jane threw her arms around Charlie’s neck and greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss, which, hey, go Jane. Only Elizabeth’s focus didn’t remain on Jane for long, because Charlie hadn’t come alone.
It was little comfort that Will looked about as thrilled to be there as she was thrilled to see him.
“Yeah,” she said, twisting back around. “That’s Charlie.”
“And that Darcy guy from our class is with him, looks like.”
“That’s him.”
“Charlie and Darcy are friends?” Lydia asked, wide-eyed.
“Rich boys travel in packs,” Elizabeth replied, willing herself to calm.
Yeah, this wouldn’t be awkward at all. Elizabeth had spent the past few weeks doing her best to pretend he didn’t exist. Childish, perhaps, but ignoring him had seemed the safest way to respond to what she’d learned. That excited-but-wary tingling sensation she’d entertained at Netherfield Heights might have scared the crap out of her, but it had also been kinda-sorta nice, and its swift death during that first coffee date with Wickham had left her hollow, angry, and a little down.
Plus, her body had not yet received the memo from her brain that Will was a douche. While somewhat accustomed to shutting down during their shared class, it refused to listen to her now that he’d caught her off guard. Rather, she felt like her every nerve was drawn to him.
Her body was a goddamned traitor.
Focus. Elizabeth shook her head and forced her thoughts back to the internet search she’d conducted after talking to Wickham. Google had led her to Wickham’s mug-shot, along with the charges of possession with intent to distribute. The photo itself didn’t do Wickham many favors on first glance. The twist of his mouth and the anger in his eyes were almost incompatible with the guy who had walked her to class, but she couldn’t say she blamed him, given the situation. Had a friend set her up, she imagined she’d look ready to commit murder.
“Looks like Darcy brou
ght a date,” Lydia said. “Oh, they’re coming this way.”
Elizabeth scowled and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Jane was leading an entourage to their table. Charlie dogged her steps as though afraid of letting too much air get between them while a miserable-looking Will followed. Behind him was another familiar face, and one almost as unwelcome.
“That’s Charlie’s sister,” Elizabeth told Lydia.
“Does she always look like that?”
“Look like what?”
“Like someone smeared shit under her nose?”
Elizabeth barked a surprised laugh, some of the tightness in her chest loosening. “Actually, yes, I think she does.”
“Great.” Lydia sighed heavily. “Guess we need to get more chairs.”
Or Elizabeth could just slip off hers and get the hell out of here. She couldn’t explain to anyone why she wanted to avoid Will, no more than she could explain how thoroughly pissed off she was with herself for having ever had any feelings for him. Not only had that gone against her plan, but she’d developed them for the poster child of why the plan was necessary in the first place.
Jane was the only one who might connect the dots to Wickham, as Elizabeth had looped her in. But Jane hadn’t seemed to take the story seriously—at least not enough to demand all the details, which had been for the best. Elizabeth had, after all, promised to keep mum. She just hadn’t had much of a chance to come up with a reason as to why she’d been looking at a guy’s old mug shot.
“Elizabeth!” Charlie cried happily, stretching his arms wide and swinging in for a hug. “It’s been ages!”
He pulled her completely off her seat in his enthusiasm, which made keeping the smile off her face next to impossible.
“How are you?” Charlie asked after he released her. “Good? I hope you’re good. Jane’s great, but you know that. Of course you know that. Have you met my sister?”
“I have,” Elizabeth replied with a polite nod in Caroline’s direction. “How are you?”
The snooty blonde’s mouth twitched in response. “Feeling a bit overdressed, actually,” she said. “I had no idea this place existed.” She nudged Will. “It’s…quaint. Don’t you think?”
Elizabeth might not have a bajillion dollars, but she was savvy enough to know that quaint was rich-people talk for not good enough. “Considering it’s a converted warehouse, I’m not sure what exactly you were expecting.”
Caroline shifted her attention to her, gave her a once over, then favored her with a nasty smile. “Oh, it’s you. I remember you. Will’s old plaything.”
Elizabeth straightened. “His what?”
“My what?” Will said at the same time, jerking his head to Caroline.
“Didn’t I see her sneaking out of your bedroom a few weeks back?”
Charlie’s smile faded and Jane’s eyebrows went up.
The smart thing to do would be to keep quiet, but hell, she couldn’t help it. Caroline was trying to embarrass her, and using sex to do it. That violated all kinds of feminist law.
“Sneaking?” Elizabeth replied, crossing her arms. “Implying shame, of course. Does sex make you that uncomfortable?”
Caroline’s smile withered—not by much, but by enough to encourage Elizabeth to take an inner victory lap.
Attempting to recover, Caroline offered, “If you had such a good time, why haven’t you been back?”
“Why? Still haven’t mastered poke-ball?”
“What ball?” Jane asked, her eyes wide and her mouth set somewhere between a grimace and a smile. “What have I missed?”
“A lot, by the sound of things,” Charlie said, glancing to Will, who—Elizabeth was somewhat pleased to note—had turned rather red. “If you’ve been getting laid on a regular basis, why have you been such an ass these last couple months?”
Will brought his hands up, a line of sweat visible along his forehead. “Elizabeth did not spend the night with me. She—I offered her my bedroom so she could get some rest and took the couch. Nothing happened.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, her irritation dying a little as amusement took over. In lieu of what she’d learned since that night at Netherfield Heights, she’d forgotten how easy it had been to make Will blush.
Funny for a guy who had no qualms sending a friend to prison.
At that thought, she felt her smile dim and her irritation skyrocket.
Thinking of the things she liked about Will was exactly how guys like him got away with the long-con. She couldn’t afford to be that stupid.
“You stayed in Will’s room?” Jane asked, jerking her back to the present.
“Alone,” Will added. “Alone. Completely alone. Without me.”
Don’t say anything. Don’t—
“Yes, don’t worry,” Elizabeth said. “Will’s virtue is still intact.”
Good going, Bennet.
He paused, staring at her, his mouth slack. “My what?”
Lydia released a timely giggle.
“Your virtue,” Elizabeth replied, smirking. “You seem to be worried about it.”
“I’m not worried about my virtue. I’m trying to protect yours.”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “How gallant of you.”
“I just thought you might not want it spread across the whole damn campus that we slept together.” The confused look on Will’s face had started to harden. “I didn’t realize that made me a bad guy.”
A thrill raced down her spine. “Any number of things can make you a bad guy. Assuming my worth depends on my sex life just makes you typical.”
Goddammit. Despite everything, she’d forgotten how much fun he was to verbally spar with.
“Who said anything about your worth?” he shot back.
“If you think my reputation needs protecting because it might get out that consenting adults occasionally have S-E-X, then you’ve answered your own question.”
“I never said—”
“Guys!” Charlie forced himself between them, gesturing with the universal time-out signal. “Seriously, Will, this is why I never take you anywhere.”
It became very clear very fast that Charlie was on thin ice, as Will looked about two seconds away from committing murder.
“If I’m remembering right, coming out tonight was your brilliant idea,” he snarled.
“Yeah, well, that was before I knew you’d insult my girlfriend’s roommate.”
“I didn’t insult—”
“Hey!” Elizabeth brought her hands up, willing her pulse to slow. She had to get out of here. “Why don’t I make this easy? I have about a stack of reading I could be doing. You guys go right ahead.”
A wounded look crossed Jane’s face. “Lizzie—”
“It’s fine. Better, actually.” She grabbed her purse forced a smile, trembling. “You have a good night. Really.”
She tore toward the door without awaiting another word, weaving through a sea of sweaty bodies. Her pulse was thumping so hard her ribs rattled—or perhaps that was the music, but she didn’t know. She just needed to get to fresh air.
At last, Elizabeth broke through the crowd and fought her way to freedom. The cool night air was kissing her cheeks and she felt she could breathe again.
“Elizabeth!”
Oh jeez.
She inhaled, then whirled around in time to see Will skid to a halt in front of her, panting. He stared at her for a few seconds as he tried to catch his breath, his chest—his annoyingly nice chest—heaving with effort.
She waited for him to say something, stuck in that awful place between dread and anticipation. And in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. If she hoped he’d mention Wickham, since she knew he’d seen them together that day, or…
Or what?
Finally, when she’d become aware of how long they had been staring at each other, Elizabeth squared her shoulders. “Did you want something or did you just follow me out here to gawk?”
That did it. His eyes harde
ned. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you at least tell me what it is?”
You made me like you.
But she couldn’t go with that, so she cast her mind back to the conversation she’d just abandoned, desperate for a hook. And, fortunately, there was one there waiting. “My value is not tied to how much sex I have or haven’t had.”
There. That was a nice, concise argument she could make without invoking Wickham or Will’s past douchery or any of it.
“I never said it was!”
“Right. I just made up that whole protecting my virtue bullshit.”
“You’re the one who brought up virtue at all!”
“Because you were three seconds away from issuing a PSA about the sex we didn’t have,” Elizabeth replied, her blood starting to heat the way it did before she went on a tangent.
“I’m sorry, did you want me to tell them we fucked all night?” He took a step forward, his nostrils flaring. “All I was doing—”
“I don’t care. I don’t care what you were doing and I don’t care what they think we did.” Elizabeth gestured at the club behind him. “That’s the whole point. I’m not embarrassed by sex. I have it. I have lots of it.” Okay, that wasn’t true, but she wasn’t about to back down now. She was riding this freaking wave. “I enjoy sex. Know what I don’t enjoy? Misogynists who think they’re the good guys, who get their rocks off by trying to protect some outdated ideal of what a virtuous woman is supposed to be. So, there you have it. Spelled out.”
Will’s jaw seemed to be in a losing fight with gravity. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “What do you want me to say?” he asked in a tone that was neither even nor strained, rather some bizarre combination of the two.
“Start by telling me why the hell it mattered to you so much that they know that nothing happened,” Elizabeth said. The words were out before she could vet them.
He started back for her, and she released a long breath.
“You want to know?” he demanded hotly. Then he was close—so close the warmth from his skin damn near had hers sizzling. Elizabeth’s heart did a funny little jerk that she didn’t want to understand, her veins suddenly pumped full of liquid heat. She’d never seen him like this—a pace away from uncontrolled, struggling with a temper that she imagined was the thing of legend.
A Higher Education Page 13
