Lessons in Faking (Hall Beck University #1)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“I’d thank you—” The crisp autumn air only accelerated the alcohol’s impact as we’d made it outside. I was swaying and hiccupping, even before we reached the garden bench to the side. “But this is probably just as bad.”

To be honest, nothing was worse than spending another minute in the suffocating presence of Jason Montgomery, but McCarthy didn’t need to know I was lying. So, I doubled down. “Maybe even worse.”

“You could just say thank you, you know.” I felt the bench shift underneath his weight when he sat beside me, and without looking at him, I knew a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips right about now. The same one that he couldn’t seem to suppress whenever he realized just how lost I was during our tutoring.

“I didn’t need your help,” I clarified, only because the sheer thought of that cocky smile irritated me.

“Of course not.” Still that same undertone in his voice.

“I had it under control.”

“Of course you did.”

I groaned, eyes trying to find his to shoot daggers at him. I expected a mocking grin, could practically see it before I even looked at him. But when I did, his eyes were on the night sky above, not even glancing in my direction.

There were too many lights surrounding us to see anything significant up there, and the few stars you would usually see were covered by clouds. Still, his attention didn’t waver.

“I’m being serious,” I pressed once more. The short silence probably wasn’t longer than a few seconds, but to me, intoxicated and annoyed, it felt like minutes passed by before I went on. “For all you know, you could’ve been cockblocking me.” When the accusation finally made him look at me, I gasped. “Oh my God.” The words were slurred more than usual, spoken as I pointed an accusatory finger at him. “That is what you were trying to do, isn’t it?”

He shook his head with a resigned huff, and I think for the first time, I saw what could’ve been classified as a smile on his lips.

“Got me.” His hands raised playfully, though despite his words, he gave me a look before elaborating. “I think I’d definitely end up aiding and abetting something if I saw any girl in Montgomery’s vicinity without heroically rescuing her.” His nose crinkled at his own joke.

“We used to date.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to clarify that. Now, in the five seconds of silence that followed, I felt stupid for doing so. But I had.

“I know.”

I jerked back to look at him, surprised above all else. McCarthy keeping up with my dating history was… unexpected. I couldn’t help the smirk on my lips. “Of course you—”

“Did you just wink at me?” He honest to God sounded baffled, laugh catching in his throat before it made it out of his mouth. If I weren’t so drunk, I would’ve probably been just as taken aback by myself.

“Or did something fly into your eye? I can’t tell the difference.” He leaned in closer, pretending to examine my eye with faked worry in his features. For a second, my attention lingered on him, taking in his dark silhouette, before I could stop myself. Then, I kicked his leg lightly enough to get nothing more than a scowl before he leaned back.

The only light came in waves and flickers from inside, and yet, it was fairly easy to make out his jawline, the tip of his nose and chin. Iimagined his eyes examining the clouds, his cheeks tinted a light pink from the chilly air around us. Every now and then, he would blow one of those floppy brown hairs out of his face after the wind had knocked them into it.

And as my head began to clear just slightly, I wondered how I had ended up here: drunk and alone with Dylan McCarthy—who hadn’t said anything in a few minutes—his eyes still set skyward, looking somewhat… content.

I cut those thoughts short, attention lazily drawn to the opening sliding door as someone stepped through. Scanning the backyard once, their eyes fell in our direction. They hesitated, then walked toward us, somewhat determined.

“Athalia?” My name rang out in the dark, and I only recognized her—and her voice—when she stood right in front of me. I blamed the alcohol.

“Wren!” The corners of my mouth curled up, and I jumped off the bench, determined to give my best friend a hug. And while she allowed it, even through the haze of alcohol, I could tell she wasn’t feeling it. Not even in that Wren way of hers.

Untangling myself from her, I caught her glance at the man behind me, just before her eyes returned to me. She blinked, then couldn’t help going back for a second look at McCarthy.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t bother lowering her voice; wasn’t concerned about letting McCarthy know she wasn’t thrilled to see him here—probablywantedhim to hear. It made me smile and forget to answer what had been a question. “ Here ,” she specified, speaking slower. “With him.” Her eyes flicked toward him one last time, probably to make some kind of point.

And I couldn’t help the amused snort that escaped me when I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my head tipping back in a soundless laugh. “I really don’t know.” Funnily enough, I was just asking myself the same thing. McCarthy decided to perk up from behind me at that.

“Hello to you too, Inkwood,” he huffed in that sarcastic tone of his, taking a sip of his beer before getting up. His brows rose with the movement, eyes trained on my best friend, who was vigorously glaring at him.

Instead of answering, she looked back at me, and I only vaguely registered McCarthy passing us to get back inside.

“What did I say about taking it easy?” she muttered, though her features relaxed and she wasalmostsmiling when I shrugged once more.

“Sorry, Mom!” I let my head fall onto her shoulder with a laugh, and as if that one gesture brought back the events she’d missed, I groaned loudly. Dragging my best friend back inside, I filled her in on my encounter with the blue-eyed devil; so occupied, that I didn’t notice him talking to my brother at the other end of the room.