Page 36 of Try Me

“Sort of.” I shot a sideways look at Chet. “We knew each other when we were kids. But we went to rival high schools.”

“Ahhhh, it all makes sense now.” Liza laughed.

“Your dad’s Gordon Farrow. Of Farrow Capital, yeah?”

I nodded and hoped the subject died a quick death. It was obvious Houston wanted to say something else, probably ask what the fuck I was doing here like Chet had, but he pressed his lips together and then turned to Chet.

“So what high school did you go to?”

“Hawthorn Prep.”

I could see the moment Houston figured out who Chet was. His gaze flickered over to me and then jerked back to Chet, and he gave him a stiff smile.

Next to me, Chet tensed, though his tone was casual when he spoke. “Yes, I’m that Pynchon. Yes, my dad’s still in prison. No, I didn’t know he was bilking people out of their life savings,” he said in a bored monotone.

Houston put a hand up. “Totally wasn’t going to assume.”

Chet shrugged, then balled up his sandwich wrapper and stood, addressing me next. “I’ll meet you at the ropes course.”

“Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.” Houston winced as Chet sauntered off.

“He’ll get over it. It’s still a touchy subject, obviously, but he’s not pissed at you specifically. Give it an hour and he’ll come around.” Wait. What the fuck was I doing defending him now?

“Wow, it’s kinda gotta suck being partnered with him, though?” Liza chewed a bite of her sandwich thoughtfully.

“It’s…interesting,” I agreed, but I didn’t want to say anything else. It didn’t feel right.

Fortunately, John slid into the seat Chet had vacated and within seconds had us all cracking up telling some outlandish bullshit story about a deep-sea fishing trip and a whale shark. Glancing up, I caught Chet scrutinizing us before he turned away and disappeared down the forest path.

* * *

I’d hopedthat we’d run out of time to do the ropes course, or that a sudden thunderstorm would crop up. But nope. Time stretched infinitely and the sky remained clear, which left me with a meager hope that age and experience would give me more confidence this time around.

Chet watched me carefully as I put on my harness. “You going to be okay on this?”

So I guess he did remember my fear of heights. It was the number one reason he’d usually ended up at my house late at night rather than me at his. He didn’t mind the climbing. “Yep. Fine.”

“So, not going to piss your pants again?”

“I didn’t piss my pants that time, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh, right. The tree dripped on you.” Chet glanced up and puffed out his lower lip as he seesawed his hand. “Looks like it might rain. I mean, just in case you need an excuse again.”

The sky was perfectly blue, and I added a nice bird to it, cranking my middle finger up in front of Chet’s face. “A tree didn’t drip on me. I slipped getting onto the platform—which was hazardously wet—and busted my ass. Which then got my pants wet,” I reminded him. I hadn’t been the only one in the camp to fall, but I’d been the only one who’d ended up with completely soaked pants.

The ropes course was exactly the same, except with blindfolds. This time, one partner would go ahead and guide the other blindfolded partner through. Then we’d switch.

“John has a crush on you.” The comment came out of left field as Chet tightened the harness around his legs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Nah. While we were eating lunch he kept looking over. He does it at work, too.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He does,” Chet insisted with a shit-eating grin. “In those big morning meetings? I always catch him looking.”

“Which means you’re watching to see who he’s watching. Got a little crush on him, yourself? And while we’re on the subject, what’d you do to brainwash Barrett into actually being nice to you?”