Page 4 of Even Exchange

“Mega uber rich?” she supplies, pausing and closing her eyes. She swallows hard, and after what I assume is a wave of nausea passes, she says, “Yeah.”

“But you seem sonormal,” I say, despite having no authority to judge. I’m well aware people aren’t always what they seem.

“Because I didn’t grow up mega uber rich,” she says. “My family didn’t have access to the Benson wealth until a few years ago.”

“I’m surprised no one realizes you’re part of that family.”I sure didn’t.

“It’s purposeful.” She shifts in place. “I want to have a normal college experience like everyone else. If people realized I wasthatBenson, they wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“I get it.” And I do. Because if people knew my family history, they’d certainly stop thinking I’m this perfect pretty boy who gets everything handed to me on a silver platter. But to be honest, I prefer their assumptions over the reality. “That explains why you’ve never mentioned your mom before.”

Her eyes narrow on mine. “I didn’t realize you’ve been paying attention to the things I do or don’t mention.”

Shit.Be cool, Caruso.

This woman doesn’t need to know justhowmuch I’ve paid attention when seeing her around at camp, and practice, and parties, and in line at Crystal Coffee while she chats with her friends about topics I definitely shouldn’t be privy to.

“I’ve seen you around,” I say coolly.

“Apparently more than I realized.”

A fluttering feeling settles in my gut. I bring a hand to the back of my neck and rub against the tight muscles. “So, back to your mom.”

She slumps against the wall. “Do we have to?”

“No, but I’m a pretty good listener.”

“Fine.” Charlotte sighs. “She tries to control every aspect of my life. And getting shit-faced at some crappy college bar wouldnotbe on her list of approved extracurriculars.”

“You’re eighteen. Shouldn’t she?—”

“Nineteen,” she corrects. “Didn’t you learn that during your extensive research?”

My cheeks flush, and I glare at her. “Looks like the alcohol’s wearing off and your sass is back.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Well, since you’renineteen,shouldn’t she be okay with you having some normal college experiences?”

Her teasing grin turns to a frown. “She doesn’t care about me getting any of those. My job is to graduate, go to law school, play the part of the All-American daughter, and keep my mouth shut so she can win this election.”

“That hardly sounds fair.”

Charlotte shrugs. “Such is the life of a politician’s daughter.”

Her nonchalance, like she’s already accepted her fate, has a stinging sadness surrounding my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She picks up the water bottle beside her and takes a long pull before setting it back down with aclunk.

“Why does she even want to be in politics?” I ask.

“What, are you writing an article?”

“No,” I say, holding up a hand. “What I mean is, considering how wealthy your family is, why bother?”

“She was in politics as long as I can remember. But after getting the inheritance, she started making bigger plans. More money, more power, I guess. My grandma had only been dead a month when Mom announced her run for governor.”

“Were you and your grandma close?” I ask, absentmindedly touching the gold chain around my neck and toying with the little ring andcornicellopendant.

“Not really, but we had some good memories.” She smiles softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Enough that I miss her. Not enough that it broke me.”

“I get that.”

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