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“That’s one thing I miss about college,” Kit continues. “But there’s a lot more I don’t.”
“Congrats on graduating.” Something I should have said earlier.
“I saw your dad after the ceremony,” Kit comments. “He was supposed to say hi to you.”
I rub my finger along the glass’s rim, brushing most of the salt off. “Oh. I haven’t, uh, talked to my dad recently.”
“Recently? Or since May?”
Another thing I dislike about Kit: he’s perceptive.
I deflect. “Did he remember you?”
“Of course he did.”
I shake my head at his arrogance. They talked for ten minutes six years ago.
“He was my professor for a couple of major requirements,” Kit continues. “Inorganic Chemistry and Biochem.”
“What?” I let out a startled laugh. “Youmajoredin chemistry?Why?”
According to Lili, Kit is expected to succeed his uncle as CEO of Kensington Consolidated. A science degree is an odd choice for a corporate career.
“Idouble majoredin chemistry and business because of that shocked look on your face,” he replies.
“Surprising people can be fun,” I concede.
My parents are both professors at Yale. My dad teaches chemistry, and my mom is part of the English department. I wanted nothing to do with either discipline, so I can appreciate choosing a contrarian path.
Kit shakes his head once. “Sort of sucks too. Usually means they didn’t expect much.”
I stare at him, unsure and a little contrite.
I’ve never hid my disdain for his partying or his playboy ways. I was plenty disapproving during the memorable time he called Lili from a Monaco police station and I had to break out my high school French to talk to one of the officers. But why would my opinion matter to him?
I drop eye contact first, raising my glass and draining it. “Does this bar offer refills?”
Rather than replying, Kit takes my glass and walks over to the makeshift bar. I wasn’t expecting him to serve me again.
I open my clutch and pull out my phone just to look busy. I have one new text from my sister.
JANE:You’re coming home for my bday, right?
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I deliberate answering. Jane is about to start her senior year at Yale. Her birthday is next month, and she’s expecting me to come home for the occasion. My mom asked the same question when we talked yesterday, and she clearly mentioned my vaguewe’ll seeto Jane.
“Here.”
I toss my phone aside and accept the refill Kit’s offering. “Thanks.”
“Yep.” A folded piece of paper drops onto my lap before he returns to his seat beside me. “That’s for you too.”
I frown as I unfold it. Stare, forehead frozen in a furrow, at a check for ten thousand dollars. It’s an actual check, dated today. Hesignedit and everything. I could deposit this, and I’m certain it would clear.
I’m not envious of his money. But I do covet Kit’s cavalier attitude. The luxury of acting first and worrying about consequences later. Ofneverworrying about consequences because money solves most problems.
I rip the check into tiny squares, then toss them in his face.
One lands in his drink. The rest scatter on the comforter like confetti.