Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

“I kept changing,” I had to admit. “Not like Payton and the perpetual undergrad plan, but more like everything interested me the first two years of college. Didn’t have a class that wasn’t fun on some level. Professor Jackson wanted me to think about law school, but I had a hard time picturing life after school. I just wanted the degree. Figured that I’d deal with the future as it came.”

Alden, king of plans, was silent a long moment as he took a few pictures of the base of the Arch. “If all you want is the degree, why not transfer to a cheaper school?”

I groaned at that. “It’s not necessarily that much cheaper, especially if you can’t get financial aid. And I dunno. It’s sort of…a pride thing, I guess. I want a Gracehaven degree. Want to prove to my dad that he couldn’t take that from me. Switching schools feels like…him winning.”

“You can’t get financial aid? I didn’t think loans were that hard.”

“Says the professor’s kid.”

“Sorry. Point taken.” Gaze shifting away, he looked chagrined at his assumption, which softened my response.

“Anyway, yeah, I had some scholarships for Gracehaven, but not a full ride, and even after…everything, the financial aid office couldn’t find the rest I needed. Which shouldn’t have been that big a deal, because like you said, loans and grants are a thing. Except my parents claimed me on their taxes, and I didn’t qualify for this year. Even if I switch schools, the fact that they keep freaking claiming me is a big hurdle. And there’s a small trust from my grandfather, but Dad controls that until I’m twenty-five. It’s a mess.”

“They want to deduct you on taxes after they kicked you out?” Alden’s eyes narrowed, and he looked ready to do battle on my behalf, which was weirdly gratifying. “That’s totally unfair.”

“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair. And I think Dad figures that if I’m not eligible for other aid, I’ll be more likely to come home, agree to go to his school, and agree to their…plans. But that’s not happening.”

“Of course not.” Alden bristling like an indignant rooster was a great distraction from the heaviness of the conversation. “You can’t just give in. And what…be not gay? That’s hardly logical. Or possible.”

“Logic has zero to do with it for him. But thanks.” Desperate to move away from this topic, I gestured to a nearby plaque. “Give me your phone. I’ll get some pictures.”

“We need some of you too. Proof of life and all that.” The tentative smile he gave me, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether he was making a joke, made some tender place deep in my chest vibrate like a guitar string.

“Here, how about a compromise: selfie mode.” I moved in closer to him, close enough to smell the hotel shampoo he’d used and for our arms to brush. But it wasn’t quite near enough to get us both in the frame, so at the last second, I tossed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against my side. He made a startled squawk and the first picture captured his stunned expression. “Try not looking like I’ve just confessed to cannibalism.”

It was the first time I’d deliberately touched him, and I was surprised at how very warm and solid he felt next to me. The thrum of awareness that had started the day before worsened. The height difference wasn’t so much as to make picture-taking a comedy skit, but it was enough that he felt…right tucked next to me. Too right.

I moved away quickly after the second shot, hitting Send to the professor before I could overthink it.

“Okay? We should probably get back to the car,” I said as I handed the phone back after snapping a few more touristy shots for him.

“Yeah.” He sounded a little off, as if maybe the contact had unsettled him, too, and that wasn’t as reassuring as it could have been. I didn’t want these weird sizzles to continue and wasn’t sure I wanted him noticing either. Maybe if I drove fast enough, I could not only make up time, but also outrun this strangeness.

Chapter Sixteen

Alden

“Did you have to wedge in so tightly?” I complained. Conrad had reluctantly agreed to let me drive the two-hour stretch between St. Louis and our lunch stop in Columbia, but I was more concerned with getting out of the narrow space where he’d parked than any highway interchanges.

“Good luck getting it to fit…” He winked at me, which made me sputter and fumble the keys. “When we park, I mean. Downtown Columbia can be dicey for parking.”

“And you’d know?” My tone wasn’t the kindest, but I couldn’t decide what to make of his teasing, and my confusion made my words sharper than I intended.

“I’ve been there a lot when Dad’s school played one of the smaller colleges. Mizzou is Division I of course, but there are a few other smaller Division II and Division III colleges around there.”