Power Plays & Straight A's

by Eden Finley

  “Architecture. Duh.”

  “Oh, of course. Here I was thinking a fictional architect would be a caped crusader at night.” Zach deepens his voice to a rich sound I’ve never heard come out of him before. Ever. “Draws buildings by day and scales them at night looking for trouble. He’s … Architect Boy!”

  My feet stall. “Did you just … make a joke?”

  “Despite people’s first impressions of me, I’m not actually a robot. I deal better when I only have the attention of one person.”

  “And you make jokes?”

  “Are you forgetting I’ve been friends with your brother for years? I watch movies, I have access to the internet. I know memes. And when I’m comfortable with people, yes I’ve been known to make jokes. Are we done examining me now?”

  I want to bring out this more relaxed side of him more often.

  Something orangey-red catches my eye on one of the trees up ahead. When we reach it, I pluck the dying leaf and hand it to Zach. “First leaf of fall.”

  “Thank … you?” He lets out a squeak and drops the leaf. “T-there was an … ant.”

  I purse my lips. “Are you scared of ants?”

  “No, but I might have thought it was a spider at first.”

  “Oh, so you’re scared of spiders?”

  “Isn’t everyone? Nothing natural has that many legs.”

  “Umm, octopuses have eight legs.”

  “Unnatural.”

  I laugh. “I’m learning a lot of new information about you this morning. You’re occasionally funny, and you have an irrational fear of things with eight legs.”

  “I’m learning you’re way too happy this time of morning.”

  “I’m used to being up at this time to go to early practices.”

  “Another reason to hate sports,” he mutters.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Okay, Mr. CU Has No History, we’re going on an excursion.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Malletts Bay.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  The bay isn’t far off campus, but for what I have planned, we’ll want to drive back fast and get into a warm shower pretty quickly.

  On the walk to the car and the two-minute drive there, Zach rambles about Pierre Mallet, some French dude the bay was named after.

  I listen intently, but it all goes in one ear and out the other because he’s so animated and happy as he talks that I focus way more on him than his words.

  I find a spot to park and turn my ignition off. “Experience number seven: Follow at least one school tradition.”

  “Colchester has traditions?”

  “Only fun ones.” I gesture to the water. “We’re going swimming.”

  “Are you crazy? That water’s gonna be, what … fifty degrees?”

  “Nah, it’ll be fine.” It probably won’t be fine. “We’ll jump in, get out, and get back to campus as fast as possible. You have to do it. I did it my very first day of freshman year along with the entire hockey team and half the freshman class.”

  Zach’s eyes narrow.

  I hold up my hand. “Honest truth. It’s a thing.”

  “What if I can’t swim?”

  I make a buzzer sound. “Try again. You and Seth practically spent an entire summer at the public pool.”

  “Seth had a crush on the lifeguard there. Maybe I didn’t swim.”

  “I’ll hold you up.”

  He grumbles. “Fine. I can swim. I was just trying to get out of this.”

  Who knew Zach was so much fun?

  Honestly, I always wondered what my brother got out of his friendship with Zach. I thought maybe Seth’s hero complex liked that Zach needed help with basic functioning. But during the few times we’ve hung out, I’ve seen snippets of a great guy I want to get to know better.

  We ditch our phones, he ditches his glasses, and we get out of the car. He looks sort of adorable without his glasses on.

  “I don’t … I …” Zach gestures to his clothes.

  “Clothes remain on. It’s part of the tradition.”

  “I’m so looking up this ‘tradition’ as soon as we get back to campus, and if it’s not real—”

  I grab his hand. “Quick, before we lose the nerve.”

  I half drag him toward the edge of the small lip. The water’s deep here but close enough to shore we can easily climb out.

  “One. Two …” Fuck, this is gonna be cold.

  “Three.” Zach jumps first, and because we’re still holding hands, I go with him.

  Holy shit, I can’t believe he did it.

  It’s colder than I thought it would be.

  Zach could tell me he hates me right now, and I would agree with him. I hate me too.

  But when I look over at him, he whips his wet hair out of his face and starts laughing. I can’t look away.

  “Hypothermia has made you lose your mind,” I say.

  “Probably. But that was actually … fun.”

  “I would say let’s do it again, but I’d rather go back to the dorms and shower.”

  His eyes shoot wide.

  “Separately. Geez. Although, I’ll have to take a closer look at that list. Hook up with a hockey player has to be on there somewhere, right?”

  And, I think I just lost him.

  Okay, so he has limits. Joking about hooking up with him is one of them.

  But I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t make him more appealing. It’s a nice change from people throwing themselves at me.

  He swims faster toward the shore, and when I catch up to him, we ride back to campus in silence.

  Shivering.

  “I’ll meet you back at your dorm after a shower and warm clothes?”

  He stares at me, his wet hair still dripping, and his green eyes shining, but I get the very real feeling he’s about to end the day here.

  I force a smile. “I promise none of the other activities include getting wet.”

  His lips twitch. “So no wet T-shirt contests? I was looking forward to that.”

  “Hey, we could always—”

  “Nope. That was a joke.” He grabs the door handle. “See you in a bit?”

  Yes. He’s still in this.

  10

  Zach

  I’m unconvinced this morning was real. Actually, I’m still trying to comprehend the past three weeks. This year is already completely different than anything I experienced at UVM. And yes, that’s the point, so yes, maybe Foster is onto something.

  At UVM sometimes I’d glance out the dorm window and watch people lying on the grass or coming to and from parties and wonder what that would be like. I can honestly say I’d never wanted to experience it for myself. My interest was more anthropological than anything else, but when Foster starts to talk about fun and experiences, I can’t help getting caught up in his contagious enthusiasm.

  I’ve barely given skipping classes a second thought.

  I pull on clean clothes and make sure to grab matching shoes this time, thank you very much. My cheeks heat at how ridiculous I must have looked, but this time will be better. This time I’m prepared. I’m even wearing my newest T-shirt.

  Despite being tired from the early wake up, I’m looking forward to what he’s planned next.

  I clean my glasses and slip them on and then … I wait. I’m unsure whether later means an hour or five, and I don’t know if texting him is socially acceptable.

  I sit on my desk chair and wheel it to the window. My room overlooks one of the lawns that leads toward the arts department and an off-campus café. It’s always busy out there, so I cross my arms on the windowsill and distract myself while waiting for Foster.

  He doesn’t take long.

  I shoot up from my chair the second I hear the knock on the door, then remind myself to take a breath. It’s only Foster.

  Only the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen.

  Nope. I need to distance myself from those tho
ughts. I’ve managed to do it for the past three years, and there’s no reason why spending time with him should change anything.

  Not if I want to keep my sanity.

  Him teasing me about showering together doesn’t help either. He might be joking, but those images too easily jump into my brain.

  “How do you keep getting in without a key?” I ask as I pull my door open.

  “I can’t tell you all my secrets.” His warm gaze sweeps over me. “Good, you’re ready. Let’s go.”

  “What’s next on your list?” I follow Foster from my room and lock the door behind me.

  “A surprise.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  I can’t help my laugh. “Your last surprise left me requiring a long, hot shower.”

  Foster groans. “There are so many dirty things I could say right now, but I’ll bite my tongue.”

  Good. Because again, images.

  So. Many. Images.

  Foster takes me to lunch at an off-campus place stating, “Experience number three: don’t eat all meals in the dining hall. Find favorite local hangouts.”

  “That only works if you have the money to splurge on food when you can get it for free at school.”

  “Good thing this is my treat then.”

  After lunch, we tick a few smaller things off the list like talk to a random person in none of your classes and make friends—though this one is all on Foster because everyone knows who he is. I just stand there and nod like I understand what getting in the crease means. I really hope they’re still talking about hockey. I tuned out as soon as they said something about the team and skates and ice.

  “Sorry about that,” Foster murmurs as we pull ourselves away. “This was supposed to be about you meeting someone random.”

  “I don’t think that will happen if I’m in the presence of the great and powerful Foster Grant.”

  He shudders. “I kinda hate that.”

  “Why?”

  He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “You know, I met Ray, so technically I did that one on my own.”

  “Good point.”

  “Okay, where to next?”

  A smile breaks out on his face. “Number … I can’t remember: Do something campus cliché.” He points to a group of people playing hacky sack.

  “You think I’m coordinated enough to do”—I point—“that? Have you been paying attention at all?”

  “I know you don’t like groups, but there’s only four of them.”

  “I’m not even talking about the people this time.”

  He still drags me over there anyway. And surprise, surprise, I suck at it.

  But even though I suck, I actually enjoy trying something new.

  It’s one of the reasons I came here for my grad program. I need to get out of my comfort zone more often.

  I find it interesting that one Grant brother was happy to support my instinct to be sheltered—maybe too sheltered—while the other is almost literally shoving me off the edge.

  Even though this afternoon’s activities aren’t exactly high stakes, just being out and spending time with Foster makes me smile more than I have in a long time. And I know he’s only doing this to be nice or maybe because he feels a sense of responsibility for me, but I let myself forget those reservations for the day.

  I let myself have … fun.

  It’s late afternoon by the time Foster tells me we’re hitting pause to grab a couple of things. We head off campus to buy a six-pack of beer, some sandwiches, and snacks, then stop by his dorm.

  “Maybe I’ll wait out here,” I say.

  “Nope, this is part of it. Come on.”

  Hesitantly, I follow Foster into his building and wait outside his room while he grabs whatever it is he needs. He still won’t tell me what we’re doing here, but when he emerges with a blanket folded over his arm, I put the pieces together.

  “Are we having a picnic?”

  “Number eleven on your list. Remember what it is?”

  I shake my head. “No clue.”

  “Sneak in somewhere you’re not supposed to go.”

  “Umm …” I follow him back down the hall. “We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”

  He laughs. “No.”

  Thank God.

  “Just against school rules.”

  “Foster! What if we’re caught? What if they kick us out and then I’ll have no hope of getting my master’s and I’ll have to kiss my doctorate goodbye?”

  “Whoa.” He stops in front of me and rests his free hand on my shoulder. “First, relax. Second, I come up here all the time, and I haven’t been caught yet.”

  He leads me to the end of the hall and through an emergency exit into a narrow, dusty stairwell.

  “Well this looks fun and reasonably worthwhile.” I pin him with a dry look.

  Foster snorts. “Up you go.”

  It looks like another two flights to the top, so I get moving, hyper aware of Foster behind me. The beer bottles chink together in the quiet space and when we get to the top, we find a door marked, This door is alarmed. Authorized personnel only.

  “I don’t like the look of that.”

  “Trust …” He breathes into my ear. Then he reaches around me and pushes the door open.

  I catch my breath for half a second, expecting an alarm to start blaring.

  There’s nothing but silence.

  “Oh thank God.”

  “You worry too much.”

  Foster nudges me forward, and I leave the little stairwell behind and find myself on the roof of the building. He wedges an old brick into the doorjamb and waves one hand out to the side.

  “You like watching people, and from up here you can see pretty much everything.”

  I creep toward the edge of the building and look out over the CU campus. It looks even bigger from up here.

  “Wow, this is … really cool.”

  “Yep.” I watch as Foster lays out the blanket.

  “You come up here all the time? Like, on dates?”

  His lips twitch. “Nah, with Jacobs. We usually sit just there, beside the vents, and shoot the shit. Sometimes you’ve just got to get away.”

  “I’ve never had that impulse before.”

  “Really?” His tone is challenging. “You’re telling me you never lose yourself in your work and shut everything else out?”

  “Okay, fair point.”

  Foster takes the bags from me and flops back on the blanket before patting the spot next to him. “I don’t bite.”

  “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. Every being with teeth bites. It’s how we consume food.”

  “I mean, I won’t bite you.”

  “Why on earth would that be something I need reassurance for?” I move closer and sit down.

  Foster’s studying my face. “You’re joking again.”

  I roll my eyes. “Was I that obvious?”

  “I like it.”

  That makes me smile. I know what he’s doing, complimenting me to try and set me at ease, but it’s effective nonetheless. To try and hide the way my cheeks are inappropriately heating up, I reach forward and pull the sandwiches out of their bag. Foster grabs two beers and flips the lids off with the bottle opener on his keyring.

  “Resourceful.”

  “I make sure to cover all bases.” Foster takes a sip and nods at the sky. “Remember number eighteen? Have a picnic at sunset. Now I’ve shown you both sides of the day.”

  I turn my attention back to where the sun has started to set. The sky is stained bright orange, but the light is quickly fading.

  We sit together quietly, eating our sandwiches and watching the sunset. I’m hyper aware of him the whole time.

  I’m aware of his big thigh right near mine, and I’m aware the hand he’s leaning on is barely an inch from my side. I’m aware of the way he eats and the way he breathes. I almost wish I could pluck his thoughts right f
rom his brain, but I’m almost scared of what I’d find there. He says he’s not doing this for Seth, but I can’t work out what exactly he’s getting out of spending time with me.

  In the three years we’ve known each other, I’d always gotten the impression he was humoring me. We didn’t really have much contact unless we were around the rest of his family, but I’d notice sometimes when I got all rambly he’d be watching me with a smile I couldn’t place.

  Sometimes it felt like pity.

  Sometimes it felt softer.

  But it always felt like he knew something I didn’t.

  “Why are you doing this?” I force myself to ask. “Like, the experiences and stuff.”

  Foster’s dark eyebrows jump up. “Do I need a reason?”

  “Yes. Because every action has a motivation behind it.”

  His lips purse as he thinks. “Why can’t it just be that I enjoy your company?”

  “You enjoy spending time with me?”

  “Is that so hard to believe? Seth does, and he’s always had good judgement.”

  Yes, but Seth likes to feel needed, and I give him that. I’m still wondering what it is that draws Foster to me. “I still don’t understand.”

  He shifts closer and pokes me in the cheek. “From anyone else, I’d think they were fishing for compliments, but you’re actually asking, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay … you’re calm, I guess.”

  “Calm?”

  “Yeah, everyone I know is always on. My friends, my team, even the people I date. It’s like everyone’s trying to be the person they think they should be, but you don’t have that energy. You’re just, you.”

  “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

  Our gazes collide, and when he smiles at me, my lips copy his. “Good. I like your version of you.”

  “If it helps, you’re calm too. I don’t know how to explain it because putting feelings into words is hard for me, but when you’re around, something, umm … settles. Maybe it’s because we’ve known each other a while, so this doesn’t exactly feel … new? It does, but it doesn’t.” I cut my words off there because I’m dangerously close to rambling, and let’s see how calm he thinks I am then.