Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
And he thought he knew what he wanted, as he looked down the length of the bed at Rian—who was watching Chris with clear concern flickering in his eyes, hazel dark and warm.
“Chris?” Rian asked. “Is that why your parents won’t answer our calls? Are they afraid it’s about tuition costs?”
Chris winced. “Probably,” he said. “Like...if they ignore it and no one tells them the money’s gone, they can’t kick me out, right?”
Damon groaned, dragging his free hand over his face. “...rich people have a fucked up way of handling things. Ignoring problems just doesn’t make them go away. You can’t just pretend it’s not there and hope it fixes itself.”
Then again...was he any better?
Pretending these building feelings inside him weren’t there. This thing that seemed to have been born inside him the moment he and Rian had crashed together, made up of all the messes and tangles they created together, and maybe the moment they’d smashed into each other they’d left fragmented pieces of themselves embedded inside each other.
And Damon had been trying to ignore it; trying to pretend it wasn’t there, and as long as he looked away from it—looked away from Rian—it would go away.
But he wasn’t looking away from Rian now.
In fact, he couldn’t seem to stop watching him.
And once Chris was settled, and safe...
He and Rian needed to talk.
* * *
Rian lingered on Damon for long moments; there was something about him right now, something that made Rian feel like...like...
Like he was part of a family.
This warm, safe bubble of comfort and familiarity, enveloping all three of them in something quiet and strange that helped to ease the raw emotions filling the room from wall to wall.
But after holding those dark brown eyes, his heart swelling at the promise in them, Rian returned his gaze to Chris, squeezing his hand. “Chris...you know what went wrong here, don’t you?”
Chris winced, his mouth pinching at the corners as he gave Rian a hangdog look. “I...broke the law...?”
“You did, but we didn’t report your name to the police.” Rian held his index finger to his lips and winked, before offering a small smile. “I’m talking about trying to handle this yourself. You should have come to an adult—a counselor, one of your teachers, anyone. Sometimes when you’re in trouble, you can’t carry it all on your own. Especially when you’ve been hurting yourself, and...” Rian shook his head. He didn’t want to tell Chris this, but... “...it wouldn’t have helped. What Mr. Drew was paying you wouldn’t have covered even a fraction of tuition here.”
Chris sucked in a breath, his face crumpling again. “Wh-what...?”
Oh... Chris. Rian shook his head; he could see where Chris was coming from, when once, long ago, Rian had been just as sheltered—just as unaware of the way the world worked, the cost of things, anything other than the ivory tower fantasy world his parents had kept him in.
That was why he’d left.
How he’d ended up here.
And he was glad he had.
“Don’t your parents know about the financial aid options for the school?” he asked softly.
Chris froze, interrupted right before he’d looked about to break down again. He sniffled. “There’s...financial aid?”
“Yeah,” Damon interjected. “There’s loans, grants...alumnus stuff, too. Hell, Mr. Iseya, the guidance counselor, graduated from here on an alumnus grant ’cause his dad had Walden’s job like, for decades. There are ways around stuff. So if you still wanna go here, you can make it work without having to hurt yourself.”
“O-oh,” Chris said faintly. “I didn’t know you could do things like that. I guess... I guess we’re not very good at not having money.”
Rian quirked his lips. “Heaven forbid you learn how to live as a commoner.”
Chris let out a choked, hiccupping laugh, wiping the tears off his lashes with his fingertips. “I want that,” he admitted softly. “I wanna be normal. I don’t care if people know we’re not rich anymore. But I don’t want to let my parents down. They want me to graduate from here, and I... I want to do that.”
“Then we’ll do our best to help you,” Rian promised, curling his hand tighter around Chris’s; Chris’s fingers twitched weakly, then grasped his. “But you and your parents both need to learn from this. If either of you had asked, had just reached out, you could have been spared all of this and they wouldn’t have had to worry, either. You’re a good kid—but you’re only sixteen. You don’t need to keep these kinds of secrets. Doing that only makes more trouble than it saves.”
“Promise us,” Damon murmured.
Chris nodded quickly, almost desperately—but he was smiling, that cloud of misery lifting even if his smile was shy, unsteady. “I... I p-promise. Really. I will.” He paused, then, giving Rian a tentative look. “But, um... Mr. Falwell...?”
Rian smiled again and squeezed his hand. “Yes? Whatever you want to say, it’s all right.”