"Yes, business. My parties aren't for me to sew wild oats. I have fun sometimes, and let loose, but most of the time I'm earning contacts. Though Adam, John, Mandy, or Carla might seem like hell-raisers right now, in another few years, they'll be climbing high in whatever company they choose."
Ah. "Pedigree rights," I murmur, clapping my hand over my mouth immediately upon hearing myself say it aloud.
He shrugs, never looking up from his task. "Pedigree sometimes plays a part. Most of the time they're actually brilliant minds. There aren't a whole lot of people in an Ivy League college because they're stupid, Raya. One day, I'll need to call them, and they'll remember these years at college. Same for them and me. Business. You don't get to the top by hard work and brains alone. You play the game. Nothing else matters if you don't play the game."
"So you play games?" I tease.
Oh shit. Am I flirting? I had better not be flirting.
"When I have to," he says while offering me a delicious wink.
I would melt, but I'm too practical. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? He better not wink at me again.
"So, you came here to be close to your family and to play games with the other socialite offspring?" I ask, sounding less flirty and bitterer.
He tenses for a second as he grabs a couple of glasses from the cabinet. He brought me dinner and he's getting it all together, and I have to go and say something unnecessarily snippy.
"Sorry. That came out a little... harsher than I intended."
He nods slowly as he turns back around. "Is it just me you hate or all of us?"
I sigh out heavily. "I haven't had the best experience with the upper class. Take this week for example. Until today, most of the campus has been running their mouths abo
ut me. The ones making my life hell weren't scholarship students."
His jaw clenches for a second, then a small smile comes into play. "There are thousands of students here. It's college; not high school. Only a tenth of the population even know you exist. Don't be so dramatic."
"Well, the ten percent who know I exist seem to be everywhere."
"Still?" he asks, leaning back while forgetting the task at hand - food.
Is this when I should tell him? Should I tell him all his upscale friends are whispering behind his back about him being with me? I might as well. All hell might break loose at the party if I don't warn him.
"No, but only because-"
"They've moved on to something juicier. Don't treat this like high school. It's not the same. There's no queen, no king, and no cliques that rule it all. People talk whether you're in school or not, but it doesn't dictate anything. You choose how much you allow people to rule you."
This is too deep. Way too deep. He's right. This isn't high school, and there's no chance everyone here has been in on the rumors, but it sure as hell felt like at the time. Maybe he doesn't have to know that some of the whispers amongst the groups are about us - together.
I'm definitely loving the reprieve from the ten percent.
"Was this your way of getting around my question?" I ask, stifling a grin.
"Ah, yes. Your question. I came here to be close to my family, as I said. But also because this is where most of the partiers will be - rebels without a cause acting out for attention. Believe it or not, the ones who don't end up in rehab will be some of the most successful businessmen or businesswomen in the country. Always are. And you build stronger bonds over beer than you do over brunch."
I chuckle over that last bit and he gives me a wink while popping the top on a beer and pouring it into a glass. A glass.
"You want one?" he asks.
"Um... I'm eighteen."
"Old enough to vote and go to war, but not drink?"
Valid point? Yes. Legal and logical? No. But let's face it. I'm no angel. It won't be my first beer, so I don't know why I'm hassling him.
"I'll take one, but you can keep the glass."
He chuckles lightly while shaking his head. "I only pour it in a glass when I eat. Less backwash."