20. Fern

Chapter 20

Fern

I jump when my mom rests her hand on my back. And then I groan. "What time is it?"

Mom pulls up the seat next to mine. "It's almost six. I just got home. Have you been here all day?"

My back aches, and I stand, trying to stretch as I simultaneously blink to wet my dried-out eyeballs. "I have all this grading to get done for Professor Yoon."

"Mm." Mom frowns at the stack. "I thought you had a whole week for those?"

I bite my lip. I've already decided to go with Wyatt. I hate missing my class, but I also rarely do anything spontaneous. I never do anything decadent. "I'm, um, going out of town for a few days this week. With a friend."

Mom arches a brow. "A friend who is not Thora?"

I laugh because Mom knows as well as I do that Thora and I are never going to ditch class and work mid-week to go adventuring. At least not while we're undergrads. Who knows what will happen when she's a Rhodes Scholar and I'm in "fancy math school," as she calls it. "A friend who is not Thora." I shrug, not wanting to upset my mother or give her all the sordid details. "I'm trying to live a little. Be young. What are you always telling me?"

"Hm. Mid-week? What about class?"

I sit back down next to Mom. I glance at my stack of papers—only a few left. "I've never missed a single art history class, and everyone gets one freebie with no penalty. And I'll be back before my math recitation on Friday. And as you can see—" I point at the stack. "—I'm well ahead of the curve with my work for that gig." I lean my head on Mom's shoulder. "Think of it like the spring break I never took."

Mom sighs and kisses the top of my head. "You're right. I trust you. You're always responsible, and you're older than I was when I had you."

I frown at her. "You don't sound so certain."

"Well, you're not giving me many details." We both laugh and Mom gets up, opens the fridge, and we set to cooking dinner together, my stack of papers forgotten for the time being. As I stir and chop, I think about how many people seem capable of no-string flings. This trip with Wyatt doesn't have to mean anything. I can let him ravish me away from the prying eyes of soccer fans on campus and anyone who might put my TA position in jeopardy.

This can be a delicious cherry on top of my undergraduate career before I head off to … well, frankly, more of the same hard work in graduate school. Just on a different continent with different things to see on weekends. From what I've read, Imperial College takes graduate students on weekend excursions to the moors and day trips to Stonehenge. I feel a little giddy thinking about a theoretical advanced math discussion about Stonehenge with a bunch of like-minded students.

And I'll be a train ride away from Paris! The idea of seeing the Eiffel Tower when I've never even seen the Statue of Liberty is a bit surreal. Mom heads to her room after dinner, and I finish grading, typing in the last of the grades, and packing up the papers to drop off with Professor Yoon first thing in the morning. Before I try to sleep, I pack my ratty old swimsuit, which will have to do, along with my best sensible underwear, dark jeans, and a few tops like the one I had on New Year's Eve when Wyatt apparently fell hard for my rack.

In the end, I don't get much sleep at all, anticipating my big sordid adventure. But when Wyatt picks me up outside the math department, I forget all about being tired. I climb into his black SUV, sink into the leather seats, and smile as he points the car east and heads toward the mountains.

"Tell me about this place," I insist as he merges onto the highway and calmly enters tunnel traffic.

Wyatt grins, a wide smile I'm not used to seeing on his face. "My dad and his brothers all went in on it when Uncle Tim turned 40. It's nice having a place big enough for all of us."

I lean one elbow on the window and rest my head on my hand. "When you say all of us … how many is that, exactly?"

My whole family is me and Mom, so I'm fully unprepared when Wyatt spits out the number 19. My jaw drops as he ticks off aunts, uncles, and cousins. "Oh," Wyatt adds. "There's also Grand and Lolly. Dad's mom, Lolly, married my mom's friend Patty—my Grand." He shrugs. "So, 21 if they come to stay when we're there." He scratches his chin. "Wes is feeling pretty permanent about his girl, but we haven't all been together since he's been with Cara. I bet it'll be 22 of us for Christmas."

I try not to imagine making it 23, try not to think about being in this fantasy castle bursting with family … with Wyatt.

He tells me the place has an indoor soccer field, a theater room, a pool and a hot tub, and enough bunk beds for an entire soccer team. "The best part is the big table, though," Wyatt adds. "It's really, really nice when we all sit together eating amazing food Aunt Alice makes. She's the chef. I think I told you about her."

I smile at him. "You sound really happy when you talk about your family."

He frowns at this. "Yeah." He sighs. "I've been caught up in this shit with my bio dad. Ever since he started contacting me … making weird threats. It's been heavy. I guess I get nostalgic for big Stag getaway weekends."

As Wyatt exits the turnpike, the big buildings of the city give way to rolling hills and frosty trees. "I guess it really is colder up here in the mountains."

He nods. "Yeah. I told you, it's an escape to a different world." We drive along, and I wonder if I should ask him about his progress with the name petition, but I decide it's too soon for anything to have happened, even if he was able to pay to fast-track things.

Before I can fret about it too long, Wyatt turns into Hidden Valley Ski Resort and points up the hill. "We're headed up there, right on the slope."

My eyes widen. "Won't people see the house if it's on the slope?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes people on the lift can see you if you're in the hot tub during the day. But we'll be very secluded tonight, Fern. I promise."

His last word carries so much heat that I shiver, so far gone my lust overtakes all my worries about being seen by … exactly who do I think is looking at me from the ski slopes? Certainly, not anyone who is in the position to tattle on me to the math department about making out with a student in a foggy hot tub on a rich family's deck.

"Here we are," he says, pulling into the driveway to a massive house with a sloped roof and multi-story windows overlooking the forest.

"Wow," is all I can muster, and when I look to my side, Wyatt is staring at me.

"Yeah," he says, not looking away from my face. "Wow."