Page 84 of Break Points and Face Offs

“Let’s make a deal. We study for a few hours at the library, then go back to your place.”

“That’s not a very good deal. My deal was better.”

“You do wanna be top of the leaderboard, don’t you?” Will asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Or are you trying to distract me?”

“I can’t distract you with sex without distracting myself now, can I?”

“If we’re not careful, Alice Liang will leapfrog us both because we were too busy fucking to study.”

I gasp. He’s right.

“Rosie, relax.” He laughs.

“No, you’re right. We’re going to the library, and we’re not leaving until we’re better than Alice Liang.”

He lets his head fall back against the seat with a groan.

20

WILL

Inearly forget about Priestley being my rival, until we walk into the classroom and see that leaderboard up there with my name on the top and Priestley’s right underneath. It hits me again—the fact that only one of us can come out of this a winner.

Scott was right, in a way. We’re all leaving here winners in some capacity. All with Princeton grad degrees on our resumés. Doors that weren’t open before are about to be flung open. Plus, if I get this internship at RAM, it comes with a massive bonus, enough to pay off a chunk of my parents’ debt.

But Priestley’s right, too. The degree itself isn’t necessarily enough to guarantee success. We won’t just be competing against people in this class when we graduate, but graduates from every other Ivy League school and prestigious business program. And that’s just our graduating year. What about the years before that? And the years after? Each academic year pumping out a steady stream of young and eager workers.

Priestley takes his seat to my right. I wonder if it’s still to piss me off. The way he’s eye-fucking me in my jeans tells me he at least tolerates me these days.

I try not to stare at his hands while he takes his notebook out and organizes his stationary on the desk. Try not to think about the way his fingers looked wrapped around my dick last night.

I’m only snapped out of it by Priestley’s voice as he answers one of Professor Moreno’s questions. I zero in on the lesson and put Priestley out of my mind for now.

“Library?” he asks as we’re leaving an hour later.

My instincts want to follow him, but I stop myself.

“I’ll catch up with you. There’s something I’ve got to do.”

He nods, like he doesn’t care either way. I tell myself he’s just putting on an act. I’ve seen past it. He’s good at it, really fucking good, but he doesn’t fool me, not anymore.

My head is all over the place. When I feel this way, there’s one person I want to talk to.

I hit call and hope she’s not busy.

When my ma answers on the second ring, I instantly feel better.

“Hey kiddo, how’s things?”

“Good, you at home?”

“Just peeling some apples. Thought I’d be domestic and make a pie.”

The smell of my ma’s freshly baked apple pie surfaces—cinnamon and warm pie crust.