Page 23 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

“Did she even know if you had a home?”

My frown deepens, then I shake my head again. “She never asked much about my life.”

Ben shoots a fleeting glare to the ceiling, before he tells me, “I would’ve asked.”

It wells up in me. He would’ve asked. My heart thumps as I feel closer to this guy in ways I’ve never felt close to another person.

And we still barely know each other. “Thing is, Cobalt boy,” I whisper, “I was glad she never asked. It made it easier to keep going back at the time. Maybe she knew that.”

“Yeah, I hope she did.” He holds my gaze. “I’m sorry she left.”

Me too. “Shitty things happen every day. It’s not like we can control them.”

He stares off for a beat, then taps the stick to the top of my head. It should annoy me, but my lips twitch into a partial smile. “So you don’t have a drum kit,” he says, “but you love playing the drums enough that you auditioned at seventeen.”

“It wasn’t that long ago. I’m only eighteen.”

“I know,” he states with a playful smile. “I can do math. Not better than Jane, though.” He mentions his older sister, but before I can ask about her, he says, “You still love playing?”

“Yeah. I’ll always love playing.”

He lets this sink in. “What do you love about it?”

I’ve never been asked this before, so it takes me a moment to find the words.

“I love the physicality of it…how it almost feels like dancing without exposing yourself in a crowd. I love the…raw energy. The aggression . Everything I kept inside could come out and it was socially acceptable. Destroying my bedroom would not only get me severely grounded but probably piss off my mom’s boyfriend enough that he’d—” I cut myself off abruptly, my heart jumping to my esophagus.

Ben’s jaw muscle tics, then he slides his arm against the back of the cushion near my shoulders. Somehow, it relaxes me—his reaction to come closer and not spring farther away like I’ve suddenly contracted an STD…or scurvy.

“He’d be a dick,” I finish vaguely. “She mostly dated dicks until she met Kenneth, her current husband. But she could be a dick too, so…match made, right?”

Ben doesn’t press. He just nods.

He’s sweet.

I’m not as nice.

I can’t ignore the gnawing in my stomach any longer.

I death-grip my paper plate. “I need you to know that I don’t regret the email to Tom’s bassist.” My heart pounds hard in my chest. I didn’t expect to say this out loud to anyone, but keeping it to myself feels more like a crime than the crime itself.

“And if I had to go back in time, I’d make the same choice ten times out of ten.

Because…because…” My pulse hammers in my ears.

Ben grabs on to the other side of the paper plate, and the movement unleashes my ironclad grip on it. When our eyes meet, he just nods as if to tell me, it’s okay .

“I was angry,” I confess. “So damn angry. I’d been living out of my car and that gig felt like a safety net.

A lifeline. And Tom just so casually ripped it away.

I wanted him to hurt as much as I hurt—and I know that’s wrong because it’s Tom’s band.

It wasn’t owed to me. But ten times out of ten, yeah, I’d do it again.

” I take a deeper breath, a weight bearing heavy on my chest. “So I’d understand if you don’t want to be friends with me. ”

Ben is quiet for a long second, but I don’t see judgment in his eyes. “What if I told you, I still want to be your friend?”

“I’d say you’re certifiable.”

He smiles. “That’s not even an insult to me.”

It makes my lips upturn too. We’re quiet as he passes me the paper plate, and I finish off the tuna sandwich. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m eating fish around him. Not that I’d be able to accommodate. I don’t have much else on the pantry shelf besides tuna and bread and some boxes of rotini.

Ben spins the drumstick again and looks me over. “If you’re worried about running into Tom at the club tonight, I can make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“I’m not worried about Tom or trouble.” I stand to toss the plate in the trash.

“I just don’t have time to go to a party tonight.

I’m pre-med. Getting into medical school isn’t as easy as handing over a report card with straight As.

I need to stand out among other applicants, and that requires a boatload of extra shit. ”

“Like what?” Ben asks.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“If I were bored, I’d have already left, Fisher. What’s on your to-do list?”

I hold up my hand, fingers splayed, and I start by counting off my thumb. “One. I need an undergrad research position, which I secured this morning with Dr. Venison’s research lab.”

His brows rise. “Dr. Venison?”

“Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with Bambi.”

“I’m relieved because I was definitely thinking you were dissecting poor Bambi’s mom.” He waves me forward with the drumstick. “Continue.”

I avoid telling him I will be dissecting mice. I’m not sure Vegan Ben will approve, and not getting his approval suddenly feels about as spectacular as swallowing nitric acid.

“Two.” I list off my next finger. “Volunteer at the hospital. I applied this morning, and there will likely be an interview process later. Three: Join a club. Four: Get a shadowing position.”

Shadowing is the holy grail of a perfect resume, and it’s also incredibly difficult to find a doctor willing to let some undergrad shadow them.

Most of the time students whose parents are doctors or who have connections in the hospital get these shadowing positions.

It’s a “who you know” atmosphere that doesn’t benefit me… yet.

“Five: Be accepted into the Honors House by the end of the semester. That involves submitting an application, going to their events, completing their rigorous exam, and hopefully getting brownie points with the current members, who have all sorts of connections into the medical field. And six?—”

“Jesus, there’s a six?” Ben’s grimacing.

“The MCAT,” I say, using my other hand to count.

“I’m currently a sophomore, and I’ll be taking the test spring of my junior year.

That means I have a little over a year to study, so I have to start now.

” I drop my arms completely, and I feel horrible for a second.

I didn’t scare him away by being an asshole to his brother, but I surely have scared him away now that he knows what little free time I have.

He stands up like he’s ready to leave. “Okay,” he says, grabbing his blue bookbag from the floor. My heart might as well be at my feet. Why…why did I have to go and ruin this one good thing? He needed to know my reality, I remind myself.

He slips the bookbag strap over his shoulder and gives me a long expectant look. “You coming?”

I frown. “What?”

“Number three. Join a club. You didn’t say you’ve done it yet, so let’s go join a club.” He pauses before he adds, “Preferably not chess, though. Is that all right?”

I don’t ask why. My heart has risen from my feet and nestled back inside my chest. I feel high as I grab my backpack from the closet and follow him out the door.

D espite living in the twenty-first century and the internet being a true essential, clubs are advertised on a bulletin in the student center.

So Ben and I are back on campus in a little study room with glass walls and a conference table.

Colorful fliers with meeting locations and times are push-pinned into a corkboard.

His bodyguard waits silently at the door, but barely anyone roams the halls. It’s a Friday night during the second week of college. Most students are probably having dorm parties or occupied with rush.

“Badminton Club?” Ben points to a bright yellow flyer.

“Sadly, I have never picked up a racquet of any kind.” I see him eyeing the Ultimate Frisbee Club. “In fact…let’s just steer clear of sports altogether. I don’t remember the last time I did a push up.”

He laughs. “You’d probably fit in better with my family than I do.”

“I highly doubt that. I lived out of my car, remember?”

“Are we going to talk about that?” he asks me, tilting his head. “You were only seventeen.” I bet he’s wondering where my parents were at that point.

“Sixteen, actually,” I say under my breath. “I called my Honda my home at sixteen.” I add more loudly, “And there’s nothing to talk about since I’m no longer living out of my car.”

“Hmm…okay.” He nods a couple times. “I’ll drop it for now.”

It’s harder to tear my eyes off his baby blues. I’m trying not to be totally enamored with Ben, but he knows just how much to pry and let go at the right times. I like that about him. I don’t think I have that skill.

Social butterflies are an interesting species. I could learn from him, but more so, I just really love being around him.

I force myself to focus, trying to search the bulletin board. But my head is somewhere else entirely. “So tell me about your brothers. If I’m going to see them tonight, I guess I should know more about them from a better source than Wikipedia.”

His smile expands to new degrees.

I shield my eyes. “ Whoa , it’s like looking into the sun. You realize your teeth are perfect? Did you even go through an awkward puberty phase? Did you have braces? Pimples? An ugly wart on your toe?—”

“Do you want to know more about me or my brothers?” he asks.

You. “Both.”

“To clarify, this does mean you’re coming to the party tonight?”

I jab a thumb toward the board. “You are helping me knock off an item on my list. It’s only proper to pay it back, Friend.”

Plus, it sounds fun to finally attend a party with someone and not just show up alone. Ben makes me feel like my goals won’t crash and burn if I give into this one temptation. Maybe it’ll even be worth it in the end.

“Something about my brothers…” Ben thinks hard as he peruses the corkboard.

His gaze falls off the flyers and settles on me with a sudden intensity.

“They called me to New York. Well, Beckett did first, technically. I had zero plans to move here, but they were insistent after what happened right before the summer.”

The room suddenly feels smaller as if his words aren’t meant for a space this large.

I had no clue he’s only here because his brothers begged him to come.

I don’t know what it’s like to have family that actively wants me around them.

But I’m stuck on his foreboding last words.

What happened right before the summer . A nagging feeling tugs at my insides.

I get the sense he wants me to ask, and I can’t help the pull to want to know.

It’s not so I can jot down Ben’s secrets in a diary or slip them to the tabloids for cash. It’s just so I can understand him more.

My voice is almost a whisper as I ask, “What happened before the summer?”