Chapter Eight


"I can't wait to get out of here," James declares, echoing my sentiment as we leave our contracts lecture, the last before Thanksgiving.

It's been nearly three months to the day since orientation, and everything I'd been told about the exhaustive coursework, the endless hours of reading, the pressure, and the ever-present awareness of the need to succeed, has proven true. There have been times when I'd been so tired, my brain so fried, that I'd fallen asleep fully clothed only to wake, shower, and do it all over again. About a month in, wondering how I'd cope, I called Jenna. She repeated the advice she'd given me before. "As busy as you are, as impossible as it seems to spare the time, you have to take a break, Edward. Mingle with your classmates, also other students because you'll need to escape the law vacuum to survive.

"How often have you seen your family?" she asked, and I sheepishly confessed that I'd skipped going home on two occasions, choosing, instead, to stay on campus and work for fear of falling behind.

"Could you have done that at home?" she asked.

"I could have, I suppose," I admitted.

"There's no supposition, Edward. You may not have gotten through as much, but you would probably have remembered more because of the mental relief interacting with your family provided. Those breaks, no matter how small or infrequent, are necessary. Doing things other than studying is vital to your capacity to cope. The trick is to recognize which activities have the potential to become distractions and which benefit you. You're smart and disciplined; you'll soon learn the differences.

"And most importantly, remember it's a marathon, not a sprint. Everything you do now is to prepare you for your final exam—that's the one that counts," she reminded me.

I followed Jenna's advice and made a concerted effort to get to know members of my section other than Jasper and James. I introduced myself to other residents in North Hall and occasionally wandered down to the communal living room for a break. I even ventured into the wider Harvard student community, where I met and befriended two students. Brooke, in the last year of her pre-med degree, and Max, who's studying English Lit, and I, now meet for coffee for an hour each week. Sometimes, one or more of their friends joins us. I've even succumbed to James' constant requests and attended a party with him and Jasper.

I've been careful to keep my social activities to a minimum and despite the opportunities presented, I have, with the notable exception of that one party, refrained from acting on the chance to have sex. It's a far cry from my undergrad years, but I keep telling myself I can refrain. "It's not forever," I remind myself each time James regales us with tales of his exploits. So, I'm back to being well acquainted with my hand. It saves me from temptation. Well, it's a piss-poor substitute for sex, but it takes the edge off and allows me to stick to my strict study regimen because every day counts toward being prepared for that crucial, final exam.

"Are you doing anything special, Edward?" Jasper asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Spending time with my family and friends," I tell him. "What about you?"

"Well, unlike you, I can't wait to get away from my family, so on Friday James and I are joining a friend, who has the use of their parents' Hamptons home. You're welcome to come too," he offers.

"There'll be a houseful of hot, eager women—just what I need to end my sexual drought," James adds gleefully.

"You managed to fit in plenty of sex over the last months, despite your constant complaints about our workload," Jasper laughs.

"Not nearly enough, but sure as hell more than you two," he goads. "Jasper, at least, has gotten himself some, although, in my view, he's still not capitalizing on the opportunities. But you, Edward—I don't know how you can refuse so many offers. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"I like sex as much as the next guy, but I'm not about to jeopardize my studies," I tell him, not for the first time.

Jasper, James, and I spend a lot of time together, we get along well, and we have become friends, just as Jasper predicted on that first day. I was also right in my assessment that we don't have much in common. The fact that we live in the same building, are members of the same section, attend the same lectures every day—our overall shared experiences at law school—are what drives the friendship.

They're both smart and ambitious, understandably; otherwise, they wouldn't have made it to HLS. But James isn't as driven as Jasper, whose natural ability to succeed is heavily influenced by his father's expectations. Senator Joshua Whitlock, I learned, expects his son to take over his seat when he retires, which he plans to do as soon as Jasper's ready to run—or. as I read it, as soon as they're certain Jasper will win. He's expected to move beyond state politics and onto the national stage because Joshua, ultimately, expects his son to become president. While Jasper shares his father's ambitions, he doesn't always agree with his father's ideas on how to achieve those goals. It's obvious to me that their difference of opinion is a bone of contention. Jasper, I've discovered, will often make a considered decision to rebel against his father's wishes. That's why, although he doesn't party as hard as James, he does so just enough to piss the senator off without risking his goals.

James doesn't face with the same pressure. Sure, he's expected to succeed, and he will, given his family's wealth and influence and the fact that his grandfather's a senior partner in a very successful law firm. He can afford the lax approach to his studies that he displays. He hardly, if ever, refuses an invitation to a party and, by all accounts, indulges himself sexually at every given opportunity. Despite only rarely having been present in social settings where James has been on the prowl, I'm not impressed by what I've seen or by the way he speaks of his conquests after. He doesn't treat women with respect, in my view; and he sure as hell doesn't like being told no by any female he targets for his attention.

"Well, I think you're nuts—both of you—" he says in response to my comment, and then, as we round the corner to our dorm building, suddenly stops. "Fuck! Who's that?" he exclaims, his attention riveted on the entrance.

"That," I reply, my tone laced with warning, is my sister.

I rush over to greet Rose. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I thought I'd help you pack," she signs.

"I can pack, Rose!" I answer, also signing.

"Shut up, Edward; you would have forgotten something!" she says, her violet-blue eyes flashing a challenge before she turns her back on me. "Hi," she smiles at Jasper and James with interest.

"Sorry," I address them. "This is Rosalie, my baby sister," I say, emphasizing the word as payback for her dig at me.

"You look very grown-up to me," James replies, and, not liking his salacious tone, I narrow my eyes at him.

"It's good to meet you," Jasper steps forward. "I'm Jasper."

"Hello, Jasper," Rose returns his greeting, but James angles him out of the way.

"James," he says, offering his hand, and then, when she accepts, holds onto hers for much too long for my liking.

"Let's go," I intervene and, taking hold of Rose's elbow, quickly lead her away.

"See you, Rosalie," James calls out, and I turn to glare at him. I don't want him anywhere near my sister and certainly not in the way his tone implied.

Much to my annoyance, I forget to pack the food containers that Mom specifically asked me to bring home.

"See?" Rose says smugly after reminding me.

"Shut up, and grab that bag," I tell her, playfully tugging at the ends of her hair.

.

.

On Saturday, at a party at Alec's place, Victoria interrupts my conversation with Libby, another friend of Tanya's I've been chatting to for most of the night. "I've decided to study law," she announces, making herself comfortable on the sofa arm next to me.

"I thought you wanted to work in the financial sector?" I ask, moving my knee from beneath her hand. She smiles; feigning apology for a seemingly unintended gesture, but I notice the irritation in her eyes at my rebuff.

"Changed my mind, and my undergrad in economics will qualify me for law school, so it's not wasted. How are you finding it?"

"It's a lot of work, but I'm enjoying it," I reply.

"Have you applied anywhere yet?" Libby asks.

"I'd love to join Edward at Harvard, but that's just not possible. My dad doesn't own his own business like his," she says, smiling at me and stroking my arm this time. I ignore the reference to money and try, also, to ignore her hand, which she hasn't removed from my bicep.

"I want to stay in Boston, so BU, Boston College, Northeastern… you know," she says, looking at me, disregarding the fact that Libby had asked the question. "I thought we could get together later tonight or perhaps tomorrow so I can pick your brains, Edward."

"I wish I could, Vic, but I'm taking Libby home, and I promised to spend tomorrow with my family."

"What about next weekend?"

"I need to prepare for my fall exam," I say, and then, suffer a twinge of guilt for not being more helpful. The thing is, I can't be sure about Vic's motives because she's come on to me before, and, although I like her, I'm not interested in her in that way, despite her very obvious attractiveness. Besides, she's been involved with Alec, then Liam, and she's even had a brief fling with Em—both she and Tanya have dated all three at some time. Not that I'm judging any of them, but I'm not into sharing women with my friends, and I'm certainly not keen to participate in whatever complicated shit their behavior has, at times, caused within our group. It's always been resolved, with no lasting grievances, but, damn, things have been awkward at times.

"Alec has my email address; just send me any questions you have, and I'll provide as much information as I can."

"Thanks," Victoria says, her voice noticeably cooler as she takes in Libby's hand—her nails slowly raking up and down my thigh because, yes, we've already decided we're both up for a good time.

"I'm ready to leave if you are, Edward?" she asks.

"Sure, just let me say goodbye to the guys, and I'll meet you back here," I tell her. "Take care, Vic," I turn to smile goodbye.

"You too, Edward," she answers, barely raising one in return.

The next morning, well, it's nearly midday when I walk into the kitchen, I find Dad and Rose sitting at the table, chatting while Mom bustles around.

"Did you have a good time last night, Son? I didn't hear you come in," Dad asks after I've greeted everyone.

"Ummm, I did, and I'm not sure what time I got in," I tell him despite knowing it was after four. At around one-thirty, when I started to dress and suggested to Libby that I should be going, she'd provocatively asked whether I was sure. She followed through by straddling me, and the lure of her hot, moist flesh had proven too much of a temptation. I responded with "perhaps just one more for the road," which turned into two for the road. Libby, it turns out, can be extremely persuasive. Nearly two hours later, when I finally left her bed, she asked when she could see me again. "I'm not sure," I said, "I have a heavy workload; it's best I don't make promises or that you don't count on anything."

"You've already explained that you don't want to get involved with anyone, Edward. I understand that, but I had a great time tonight, and I'd like to see you again. No ties, of course—"

"I enjoyed your company too, Libby. I'll call sometime, and if you're free and still want to, I'd like to catch up again," I told her and made sure to get her number. I meant it because Libby had been good company, and the sex had been great too.

"It was quarter past four," Rose announces in an accusatory voice. "You woke me when you went to the bathroom.

"Why does he get to come home at all hours?" she challenges our parents.

"Because Edward's no longer a teenager and you are," Mom replies.

"I'm nearly twenty!" she protests.

"In eight months, Rosalie, and we'll discuss your curfew again when you turn twenty-one," Dad says, his tone inviting no argument. She huffs before turning back to me.

"Were you at Alec's till that time? Who else was there?"

"There were lots of people; I didn't know them all," I reply, deliberately ignoring her first question.

"Was …never mind; I'm not interested in your boring friends," she says and flounces out.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Mom asks, placing a cup of coffee in front of me. "I saved you some waffles and sausages, and I can fry you an egg."

"Please, Mom," I smile my appreciation, and when she kisses my cheek, I wrap my arm around her waist to give her a hug.

While Mom gets my breakfast, Dad and I chat about my upcoming exam and how prepared I feel for it, and I ask about his latest projects at work. Later, I take Rose out and, over a late lunch, listen to stories about her experiences at MIT, where she's studying strategic marketing and management. I ask about her friends, relieved to learn she doesn't have a steady boyfriend and that she's dated but as part of a group. "Keep it that way, and promise me you'll be careful," I warn.

"If you're worried that I'm sleeping around, then you can stop, Edward. Although, I don't see how it's any of your business. You've hardly saved yourself for that someone special like you're always telling me to. You, Emmett, and the rest of your gang—who did you sleep with last night?" she asks caustically.

"Rose—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses," she tells me, her expression a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Rose, it's different; you're different," I say, holding up my hand when she's about to interrupt. "You're my sister, and I love you. I don't want anyone to take advantage of you, and I don't want you to be hurt."

"Why? Because I'm deaf?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Because you're young and beautiful, and you're still innocent."

"How old were you when you started sleeping around? Do you take advantage of girls—is that why you worry about me?"

"I don't take advantage of anyone, especially not innocent girls—the girls I see know what they're getting into, and I don't ever lie to them."

"But you do sleep around—you and your friends—"

"I don't sleep around—well, not as much as you think I do," I correct myself when she glares at me. "And what's my friends' habits got to do with anything?" I ask.

"Never mind… let's just forget this conversation," she decides, and because I'm being a bit of a hypocrite and don't feel comfortable discussing my sex life with my sister, I do as she suggests. Our disagreement, as always, is soon forgotten, and we spend the rest of our time chatting, teasing, simply enjoying each other's company like we always do.

That night, we join Mom and Dad for a night of watching movies in front of the television like we did when we were kids. I spend most of Sunday in my room studying, stopping only to join the family for meals, and on Monday, I return to campus to repeat the hectic routine of the last three months.


Thank you, as always, for reading.

My thoughts are with New Yorkers today. I'm making my first trip to your city this year, and I remain determined to visit, pay my respects, and enjoy the sights and indomitable spirit of its citizens.