Page 39 of Old Money

It’s hot.

So far, being “us” hasn’t come up again since that one conversation a few weeks ago in my apartment, and if I’m being honest, I’m avoiding it. Because it feels like “us.” The way we schedule our lives around each other feels like “us.” The way he blows my fucking mind every time we fuck feels like “us.” The way he still calls me every night that we don’t spend together so that I can fall asleep feels like an “us.”

And it’s amazing.

And it feels pretty perfect the way it is.

The trouble is that, although it feels like we are together more than not, it still feels like there are a lot of things wecan’tdo together. There are the little things, like holding hands in public. And then there are the bigger things, like telling my mom or meeting his family, helping him figure out how to use his fortune for good instead of evil.

That kind of thing.

And then there are the things like the article I came across today, published a few months back, about how he is the most eligible bachelor in the country—or maybe the world—and I want to fight someone.

He’s eligible, but as far as I’m concerned, he isnotavailable.

And it’s up to me whether or not the world knows it.

My world, compared to his, is so small.

A small college campus, a small job, small family, small life.

But there are things about being small that I don’t take for granted. Like anonymity.

I like to think that my being a nobody has its perks for him too. No one is looking for the third richest man in the world on the Carrington campus or holed up in my walk-up at night.

We’re just a few days away from Christmas, and the only thing keeping me from being devastated about not going home for the whole break this year is him. The semester break is six weeks, and I can’t go that long without getting a paycheck, and neither can my mom. So I’m going back for a few days then coming back to Connecticut for the rest of the break. The flight alone will be almost a month’s wages for me, and even though I know Julian would pay for it in a heartbeat, I’m very conscious of that line. I will not be someone who expects anything different from him than I would any other partner. Although, any other partner of mine would likely be another poor college student or a trust fund baby who would need permission to spend his daddy’s money.

But still.

The few times it’s come up, I’ve just mentioned that we are both working a lot.

He’s nodded, and then we’ve moved on.

I’min the back of the car, pulling out my phone to text him after my shift. He had a dinner commitment, but he sent Tyler to get me and bring me home.

All done,I say.On the way home.

I wish I was too. I hope it was an easy shift.

Only three old men hit on me today. It was a blow to my self-esteem,I write back. He dislikes the message.

You already have one old man hitting on you daily. You don’t need anyone else. I’ll happily come let them know.

I smile. I love that he has claimed me, even if it’s only for me to know.

Be my guest.

We’re homea few moments later, and Tyler walks me up to the apartment as instructed, waiting until I get inside. I thank him then lock the door and immediately head for the kitchen and my speaker. I start some Kendrick, dancing around the kitchen as I open my embarrassingly empty fridge. I let the music blast as I walk into my bedroom, stripping off my gray polo and jeans and putting on some tiny pajama shorts and a tank top.

I do my signature shuffle-shuffle-slide move back out the door and into the living room, then I freeze when my front door crashes open.

I scream and jump.

A man and a woman—who have very obviously just been hard-core making out—are standing in my doorway, staring at me. All three of us have our jaws to the floor.

I yell at my speaker to shut off as I attempt to cover myself over my see-through silk shirt.

“Who the fuck are you?” I scream, scooting closer to my bedroom. Of course my phone is across the apartment on the counter where I left it. The man gives me a look, raising an eyebrow and slowly taking his hands off the girl who is straightening out her top and wiping her mouth.

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