The Freshman (College Years 1)

“You should probably avoid her. Hayden,” she clarifies when I look at her strangely, “spending time with her will set your dad off.”

“Not like he ever spends any time with me,” I say with a little shrug. “What does it matter to him who I’m with or what I’m doing?”

“I’m being serious, Tony. Like your father said, Hayden is off-limits. I won’t have you ruining my friendship with Lauri because you want to fuck Brian’s whorish daughter,” Helena retorts.

“Whorish? And who said I wanted to fuck her?”

The people sitting on the other side of the table are watching us with obvious interest. I have no idea who they are, but when I turn to glare at them, they look away quickly.

“You didn’t have to say anything. I saw the way you looked at her.” Helena smirks. “From what Lauri says, Hayden spreads her legs for pretty much anyone.”

I seriously cannot believe what Helena is saying to me. Why is she being so crude? So damn disrespectful? “Do you have a grudge against her or something?”

“I’m just letting you know the truth. It’s the least I can do for you, since you’re my stepson.” Her smile is brittle. “Just watching out for you, that’s all.”

Dad comes back with two glasses clutched in his hands, settling in his seat before he turns to Helena and starts whispering ferociously.

I ignore them, wishing I didn’t have to deal with them.

But thanks to Hayden, this night keeps getting more and more interesting.

Four

Hayden

“What were you doing talking to Tony Sorrento?” Dad asks me once he has me out on the dance floor.

Dinner was a painful affair of eating dry chicken and pretending to enjoy my father’s friends’ stories. They all talk about themselves and their successes and how much money they have. I know pretty much everyone at this country club tonight is rich and successful, but aren’t we more than that? Shouldn’t we be discussing world problems and what we can do about them, especially considering how much damn money everyone has?

But no. It’s one big my bank account is bigger than yours bragfest at this table.

Some of them have sons who accompanied them tonight. They’re all mildly attractive, I can’t lie. One in particular is extraordinarily good looking. He’s seated across from me and flashes a cocky smile in my direction every few minutes, as if he expects me to melt in my chair because he’s looking at me. His father lists his stats as if he’s a stud horse we might be interested in purchasing.

From the near salivating expression on my father’s face when

they were talking, I’m thinking I wasn’t too far off the mark in my thoughts.

The stud in question is a lacrosse player. A senior at Harvard, pre-med. Wants to be a plastic surgeon like his father. Considering Lauri knows his father so well, I’m gathering he’s the one who gave her the recently purchased fake boobs that are practically spilling out of her blue dress.

I glance down at my own chest, feeling flat compared to Lauri. I have nothing against breast implants. I get why a lot of women want or have them. But I don’t think I want boobs so big they’ll bust out of everything I wear if I’m not careful.

“Who is Tony Sorrento?” I ask my father. I am playing innocent, and assuming Range Rover Tony is who he’s talking about.

And why wouldn’t I talk to him? He’s the hottest guy in this place, hands down.

Dad takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he whirls me around the dance floor. They actually have a live band playing, and the singer is crooning some ballad from the nineties, I think.

It’s kind of awful.

“He’s no good.”

That’s a very blanket statement, and it doesn’t say much. Meaning he’s probably never had a conversation with Tony before in his life. “You know him?”

“I know enough.”

“So you know him personally? You two hang out? Golf buddies, maybe? At the very least, drinking buddies?” I prod further.

Irritation flits across his face. “No, I’ve never personally spoken to him.”