Page 12 of Don't Love Me
He hesitated for a second, then turned his head. “You don’t know shit.”
“You can tell yourself that, but we both know the truth. See you around school. Maybe.”
* * *
Marc
I watched her walk away and decidedly didnotlook at her ass as she did. She was right. I’d encouraged her to push her father to let her go to school, and, now that she’d made it happen, I didn’t know how I felt about it.
On the estate, we were isolated. Whatever relationship we had was kept under wraps. Between us and no one else. Landen thought we didn’t interact. He’d probably be surprised to know how much time we all spent together when he wasn’t around. George didn’t comment about Ash hanging around, either. Unless I got too surly with her or did something he felt crossed a line.
Because I only ever did that, crossed the line, with Ash. I was different around her than any other person I knew. Not like my friends at high school. Certainly not how I was with any other girl.
Now she was going to have a chance to see who I was with them. One area of my life, which had been private and only mine, was suddenly going to be exposed to Ashleigh.
Who could see everything.
And the thing she would see right away was how much of a front it was. I acted like a popular kid. I was treated as a popular kid. Anyone on the outside looking in would think I was friends with the whole fucking school. Because that’s what I wanted them to think. Because popularity had advantages, and any time I could gain an advantage in this world, I took it.
Ash would know it was all fake.
I swam a few laps to work off the unease I was feeling, then pulled myself out of the pool only to come face-to-face with the master of the house himself.
“Sir,” I said, ducking my head and reaching for the towel I’d left on one of the lounge chairs. “I’ll get out of your way.”
My goal was always to get out of Arthur Landen’s way as fast as possible. It wasn’t like he intimidated me. Maybe he should have, being as rich as he was. It was more about feeling like I was on borrowed time with him. As if any minute he might pull the rug out from me and George and send me packing. So the less he saw of me, the better.
“A moment, Marc.”
Shit. I turned to face him. Arthur Landen was a formidable looking man. Tall, with a full head of hair even if it was all white. Heavy, but not fat. Just solid. He had Ash’s light blue eyes, but they weren’t as soulful as hers. As expressive as hers.
As fucking all-seeing as hers.
“Yes, sir?”
That was the other thing I did. I saidsiras much as possible around him. Reminding him I knew who was in charge around here. I lived here at his whim.
I had to work for it, earn my keep by working with George around the place, but even without that, I had to remember how lucky I was he’d conceded to George’s wishes.
“I understand you’re going into your senior year. By all accounts, you’re doing well.”
Top ten academically, captain of the State Championship soccer team, student council vice-president and captain of the debate club. Everything I needed to pad my résumé to get into Princeton.
Because that’s where I was going.
Two years ago, George drove me the hour south to the Ivy League school and I’d become fixated on it. Not Yale, not Harvard. I wanted Princeton. Where Landen had gone with a silver spoon tucked between his teeth.
I wanted to earn it. Because of my circumstances, my rise from the gutter to the top of my class, my brief time spent in the foster system, I was just enough of a sad sack for them to take a look at me without the pedigree. There weren’t a lot of poor kids who got into Ivy League schools, but I was going to be one of them, and I’d picked Princeton.
“Well enough, sir.”
“I’m sure you know my daughter will be attending Harborview High this year. We both felt it was time to acclimate her to her social peers.”
He didn’t have a damn thing to do with her decision, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I just want to be clear. My expectation has always been that you and Ashleigh keep to yourselves, separately. You can appreciate my concern given she’s an impressionable young woman and you come from…well, more challenging circumstances.”
AKA: my mother was a heroin addict.
