Page 21 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

My brows jump. “You’re keeping a secret from Beckett? Why?”

Eliot’s lips drop in disappointment at Tom. “Brother, no.”

“I can’t fucking help it, Eliot. He’s hot. Like extremely fucking hot, and he winked at me.”

“That was one time, and it might’ve been an eye twitch,” Eliot refutes, then clues me in, “it’s Leo Valavanis.”

My frown heavies. “Beckett seriously hates him.” I’ve never heard Beckett curse someone out like he does Leo. Honestly, I’m not even sure Tom’s hostility toward Harriet is equivalent.

Eliot nods. “It’s one thing to hate-jerk to get back at an enemy. Another thing to fuck your brother’s mortal foe.”

Tom groans, “I’m not actually going to hook up with Leo. I know it’s probably not possible.”

“Impossible,” Eliot amends.

“Impossible,” Tom agrees, then stares me down. “Your turn.”

I’m really going to have to admit this. Telling them I was just standing in the shower wasting water will send off a million alarm signals. Eliot is already laser-focused on me, waiting for the answer.

I want to say the truth, but how the hell do I do that? There’s a war within me to even say her name. Tom’s not a fan of hers after she auditioned to be his drummer, and it’d only draw tension between us. I’m trying, trying , not to cause any further friction.

I run the towel against the back of my neck. “She’s a girl from college.”

Eliot rinses his mouth. “Do we know her?”

“You might.” I act like it’s unimportant, trying to throw them off the scent.

“Seems like we do,” Tom says, appearing satisfied with my answer. He’s half-reading the label to a hair product, then tossing the bottle back in a bin.

I reknot the towel around my waist. “I have a meeting with my advisor.” I wind past both their bodies to reach the exit, but Eliot quickly puts a hand on the door before I grab the knob.

“Why the caginess?” His brows furrow. “We’re brothers, brother. ” He leans more of his weight on the door, impeding me from leaving. “Which reminds me, I’m creating a group calendar. We’re all going to share our schedules with each other . I’ll send you the link.”

I frown. “Charlie too?”

“He’s been informed.”

I laugh. “There’s no way in hell he’s going to participate.”

“We’re working on him,” Tom says, dumping the bottles and sprays on the sink counter.

Eliot chimes in, “And I, for one, would love to see where Charlie fucks off to every day.”

This can’t be about Charlie, or else they would’ve concocted this group calendar thing prior to me living here.

“I’m mostly just on campus,” I tell them. “It’s boring.”

“We’re not asking to be entertained, Ben Pirrip,” Tom says. “We just want to know where everyone is. We’re not nobodies. Luna was assaulted last year.” Mention of our cousin, their best friend, tenses the bathroom.

It wasn’t a random assault. It was targeted. She’s famous, and her attackers wanted a quick payout and sold the story to the media. Our parents have harped on us to “always have your bodyguard present” this year. It’s why Novak is basically superglued to my shadow now.

“We should be keeping tabs on each other,” Tom adds. “It’s safer that way.”

I let out a deep exhale. “Yeah, okay,” I agree. I’m mostly trying to conceal my bartending job. I can just omit that from the calendar.

Eliot still has a palm planted on the door. He studies me, but if Charlie feels like the king, queen, rook, and bishop on a chess board, then Eliot is only the knight. He’s far less threatening to me.

He straightens up so we’re almost the same height. “You know, we’d be much closer, you and I, without so much mystery between us.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be any closer to you,” I say without thinking. It’s not the truth, but it’s also not a total lie.

Tom lets out a breath. “Damn.”

Guilt fists my insides. I try not to feel bad. Eliot and Tom aren’t Charlie. They don’t actively hate me. And the last thing I want is to become an asshole like Charlie.

“Harriet,” I blurt out like a busted dam. “That’s the girl.” I jerk my head toward the shower.

Tom suddenly freezes. “I beg your pardon. Who? ”

“Harriet,” I repeat.

“I know a Harriet.” He stares at me like please don’t say it’s her , but I don’t want to hide her like a dirty dark secret. Like something to be ashamed of.

“Yeah, same Harriet.”

Tom pushes his golden-brown hair out of his face with a hot hand. “Dude, she’s trouble. You do not need to add her to your spank bank. Okay? She needs to stay far, far away from any indecent thoughts.”

What? I give him a strange look. “ You’re telling me to stay away from trouble?

You’re jerking off to Beckett’s ballet rival, and you literally got the word troublemaker tattooed to your bicep three weeks ago.

” I point to the cursive letters inked on his arm—very visible since he’s wearing a muscle shirt.

“Ignore my tattoos,” he says in a slight panic. “Ignore what I do, but don’t ignore what I’m saying.”

He’s saying to stay away from the one girl who’s made me feel happy to be in New York. “I can’t. We’re friends.”

His jaw unhinges. “ Friends?” He whips around to Eliot for confirmation. “Did I hear that right?”

Eliot’s staring at me. “Parfaitement.” Perfectly .

“I don’t understand your issue with her,” I tell Tom. “So she tried out for your band when she was seventeen. You were the one who rejected her just because she was under eighteen. If anything, she should be pissed off at you and not the other way around.”

“Pissed off at me?” Tom touches his chest in disbelief.

“Yes, I rejected her, but she’s the one who emailed me when she turned eighteen and asked if she could be in the band.

I told her no , and what does she do? Let it go?

Move along with her life? No, she fucking emailed our bassist this long rant about how I was going to sink The Carraways.

Pissed off at ME?” He’s pacing. His hands on his hand. “Dude. She. Is. Batshit.”

I wave a hand to Tom but look at Eliot. “He’s getting this worked up over an email?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom almost lunges, but Eliot grabs a fistful of his shirt, dragging him backward.

Tom spins out of his hold and rests his hands on his head again, trying to cool off.

“It’s his band, Ben,” Eliot reminds me. “It might as well be a third appendage.”

His band. Tom first formed The Carraways when he was fourteen with Warner, the bassist, during their time in prep school.

The three-person punk-rock band has cycled out drummers over the years, but Warner has never abandoned Tom in the seven whole years the band has been together.

I’m guessing if Harriet’s email struck a nerve, then there might’ve been strife between Warner and Tom before she even hit send.

“Sorry,” I say to Tom with more sympathy. “Honestly…I don’t know what it’s like to love something enough to grow a third arm for it.” I shift my weight, gripping the towel at my waist. “I wish I did.”

Tom settles down for a second, letting his hands fall to his sides. He’s frowning. “You love hockey?”

He’s unsure. I have a feeling all my siblings have been questioning my love for the sport lately. Leaving Penn, quitting the hockey team—it didn’t gut me. Quitting something you love should feel devastating.

“Not like you love music,” I say to Tom, similarly to what I told Beckett. Then I stare at Eliot, silently telling him to back off the door.

He doesn’t move. “There’s a party. Friday night at one of our favorite clubs. Come out with us, little brother.”

“No thanks,” I say, on automatic.

“Beckett will be there,” Tom jumps in.

“No,” I say again. The last place I need to be is an overcrowded club on a Friday night with my brothers. Too many things can go wrong.

Tom and Eliot share a wordless look before Eliot says, “Bring Harriet then.”

“ Eliot ,” Tom snaps angrily like this is betrayal.

Eliot is only staring at me now, his eyes pleading.

I glance between them. “Tom won’t want me to?—”

“But he’ll allow it,” Eliot cuts me off. “Right, Tom? For our little brother.”

“Right,” Tom says like he just swallowed battery acid. “But you also could bring literally anyone else. Like someone Charlie hates. I’m sure that list is longer than a CVS receipt.”

“Or you can bring Harriet,” Eliot offers again.

Tom shifts just as I catch the contortion of his face. He’s having an internal meltdown. I’m half-surprised he doesn’t press his forehead to the counter and groan.

Eliot clutches my shoulders, prying my attention off Tom. “Bring her,” he says strongly. They really want me to go out with them this badly.

I’m caving beneath the temptation. Beneath the idea of spending more time with Harriet outside of college, outside of work. Beneath the desire of being with my brothers. It feels like it’ll be better if she’s there.

It all entices me.

“I’ll think about it.”