Bloodlines - 48. Chapter 48

March 2, 1999

I woke up and felt pretty disoriented, not all that unusual since I was basically living at the fucking hospital. God, how I hated this place, with its sterility, its white walls, its officious staff, and its crappy food. I went through my morning ‘waking up’ ritual. I laughed at myself. I had a ritual or a routine for everything. In the mornings, before I get up and get active, I try to think back to the day before and remember all that had happened. It helped keep me organized. I thought about the crush of people here, all of Matt's family members, and then I remembered that little encounter with Cody. It made me giggle, something I tried not to do so I didn't look like a pussy, but since I was alone with just Matt, I allowed myself that luxury.

I looked at him and he seemed different. For the first time in a long time, he didn't look as if he was getting weaker. I put my hand on his forehead and his cheek. The fever was lower. I knew that was unscientific, but I'd been here with him, watching his body, and I knew, I just knew it was abating. I sat there, stroking his hand, an ecstatic grin on my face. He was better. He was getting better. And that's when I knew, I really knew that he was going to make it. I felt the emotional restraint leaving me again like it had so often these past few days. I never showed emotion in public, and rarely with friends or family. It was a Danfield thing. Be strong. Be a winner. But the knowledge, at least in my mind, that Matt was going to make it, blasted those rules straight to hell. I felt the tears pouring down my face and I didn't even try to stop them.

I leaned over and kissed his lips and felt them respond, weakly, but they still responded. “What's wrong?” he asked softly.

“You seem better, and I'm really happy,” I said, sounding like an idiot. He just smiled at me. Then the smile faded, not because he wanted it to, but because it was simply too much effort to maintain.

“You've been here the whole time,” he said.

“Mostly,” I said. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” he said. “I love you too. Just as much.” Then he drifted off to sleep again, only this time it was alright, he was just resting.

“What's wrong?” I heard his father say. I hadn't seen or heard them come in.

I grinned at him, and I felt like such an idiot, but I just couldn't stop myself. “He's getting better. Feel his forehead. His fever's gone down. And he talked to me, not that hallucinating thing we saw yesterday, but he really talked to me.”

They moved closer and felt his forehead and cheeks. Their touch must have brought Matt back to consciousness, which kind of worried me. This would all be for nothing if he made himself weak. He opened his eyes and looked up at his father, their eyes locked. “Dad” he said weakly. Then Dr. Carrswold broke down just like I had, tears cascading down his cheeks. It was a poignant moment, only to be shattered when the nurse came in to take blood. Only it was the cute one Matt had flirted with.

“How's Romeo this morning?” she teased.

“Better,” he said weakly. She stared at him and smiled.

“Let's see,” she said. She took his temperature and while he still had a fever, it was very low grade. Then she drew blood, and stared at his arm when she was done with a surprised look on her face.

“What?” I asked.

“He's not bleeding as bad as he did yesterday,” she said. I smiled at the Carrswolds and they smiled back at me. “I'll go get this processed and let Dr. Hobart know.”

“Why did she call him Romeo?” Matt's mother asked.

“Matt was flirting with her when he first got here, when he still had energy,” I told them. He was so playful, so charming, that flirting with people was just part of him. It was no wonder he was such a slut. He could charm the pants off just about anyone. Let him, I thought. It meant nothing. He loved me; I knew that, I was sure of it. No tryst was going to fuck that up.

“You have a class don't you?” Dr. Carrswold asked. “We'll keep an eye on him for you while you're gone.” He said it in the nicest way; what a switch from the guy I'd talked to on the phone.

“I do. I've got to head back and take a shower first. I'll see you when class is over,” I said. I leaned in and kissed him gently, not giving a shit if they were there or not, and felt him respond slightly. I was on cloud nine as I almost danced out of the hospital and back to Lag.

It was difficult to concentrate in class, but not impossible. I was used to that, to putting duty first. I locked down those parts of my mind determined to distract me and paid attention to the lectures. I'd learned a long time ago that if I made it a personal challenge it was bearable. So the more boring the lecture, the more intensely I listened, determined to glean what I needed from the droning voice. It was all about winning, all about victory. Then, when classes were finally over, I could let those other parts of my mind loose and surrender to them, at least for a while.

I grabbed a USA Today on campus (they were free) and headed back to the hospital, anxious to hear how Matt was doing, to see if he was still improved. I got there to find his room crowded again, with JP, Stef, Robbie, Brad, and his parents all hovering around his bed. I hid my irritation, my extreme annoyance that they would all be there, demanding his attention, sapping his energy. It was really not my place to object, especially since they'd all treated me so nicely, making sure I was allowed to be there. Still, that didn't mean I couldn't be irritated deep down where no one else could see.

“Wade!” Mrs. Carrswold said enthusiastically. For some reason she had decided to like me. Go figure. “You are just in time. Jack said he'd have the latest test results back shortly.”

“That's wonderful Mrs. Carrswold,” I said, instinctively pouring on the charm. I joined the cadre around Matt's bed, greeting them all and letting them absorb me into their group. Then I worked my way over to Matt and looked down to see him sleeping. Only he wasn't sleeping. That made me want to giggle. I knew him so well. He was lying there with his eyes closed, trying not to let all the commotion sap his energy.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You can pretend to be asleep. They won't know, but I do.” I sat back up and saw him fight the grin. It was so cool. Our little secret. But then Jack came in, and it was important for him to be alert for that.

“How do you feel?” Jack asked him, his handsome face even more gorgeous when he smiled.

Matt's eyes fluttered open. “Better,” he said weakly. “Am I?”

“You are,” Jack said with a big smile. He was too excited to be stoic. “Your liver enzymes have stabilized, the dialysis is keeping your kidney functions in check, and your fever has dropped.”

“So I can leave now?” he asked, joking.

“Not quite,” Jack said, still grinning. “You'll be with us for a while longer.” Jack looked around at the group hovering around him. “You have to focus on getting your rest. That's how you'll recover, by giving your body time to heal itself.”

JP was the most perceptive, not surprisingly. “I have to get back to campus. I'm so glad to see you doing better.” He leaned down and kissed Matt on the cheek. Then, person by person, they left.

“Are you leaving too?” Matt asked me, with a worried look.

“No fucking way,” I said. He grinned.

“I tasted you,” he said. I felt myself blushing, and he did the closest thing he could to chuckling, but then drifted off to sleep. Fucking Cody, I thought with a smile. Too funny. I looked around the room, and seemed to notice all the flowers for the first time. I wandered around, looking at the floral arrangements and the cards that went with them: The hockey team, a couple of his professors, various people he knew on campus, it was really touching. There was a huge arrangement in the corner, quite tasteful in an ostentatious way. It was from my parents. I shook my head, unable to free the cynicism from my mind, unwilling to give them even the slightest benefit of the doubt.

My mother had wondered if we could ever have a normal or even civil relationship. The ‘we’ in her question or statement had meant with both of them, not just her. I thought about that, dug deep, and decided that as far as my father was concerned, we probably wouldn't. I couldn't forgive him for what he'd done to me, how he'd molested me for all those years. Probably the most distressing thing about that was when my body responded, when he'd fucked me and I'd actually cum. It made me feel so dirty, so unclean. The sessions with David had helped a lot, and that was the one area he'd helped me make the most progress. How horrible to be raped and still ejaculate. I could forgive myself for that, but not him.

My mother was different. She had been blissfully ignorant of my father's shit, and there was a chance we could someday actually have some sort of relationship, only she was so twisted and evil inside it would be hard to trust her enough to let that happen. David had asked me why I didn't go to her when this all started, when my father first molested me, and that was why. I didn't think she'd believe me, and even if she did, I figured she would just use it to her own advantage, and maybe just leave me to his mercies. No, I was probably an emotional orphan. I'd just have to find people in the world to fill the void they left.

I sat on the bed and took out the paper and scanned it. There, on the fourth page, was a picture of my father, proclaiming the necessity for prayer in schools. I looked at his picture and felt sheer hate flow through my body. It was a curse that since I looked so much like him, every time I stared in the mirror I was reminded of him. What scum he was, what a disappointment in our long family history of politicians. At least that's what I told myself. If I'd let myself think about it, I'd remember how many of them were involved in that most detestable institution of all: slavery. From the beginning, when Jebediah Danfield helped negotiate the Constitution, to the Civil War, when Stephen Danfield had given up his seat in congress to be a member of the Confederate Congress, a Danfield had been there to make sure blacks kept their chains on. Then, more recently, was my own grandfather, Alexander Danfield, Governor of Virginia and a vigorous defender of segregation. I guess it was really no surprise that my father was so twisted. I wondered if I'd be able to avoid those moral compromises, or if I'd end up like them and be completely devoid of morals, period.

It was something I watched out for, something I worried about. I loved hockey, but I wondered if I had subconsciously picked it because it was a sport made up of mostly white guys. It wasn't that I was a racist, that I didn't like African-Americans, or that I wanted things to ‘be the way they used to’. It was my past, my heritage, which made me feel so guilty: Thinking about the political dynasty that I represented, and how one of its cornerstones had been grinding the Negro man under its heel. I had a lot to atone for. And now I was an ‘out’ gay man, the kind of man who could be a target. I could almost walk in their shoes, but not quite.

I went back and sat next to Matt. He was my family now. I pushed my fucked up family and heritage to the back of my mind. My world had changed orbits and it was revolving around him, and I was happy with that.

March 6, 1999

I drove my fucking BMW back to the hospital. God, how I hated this car. It reminded me of my father, and made me remember the moment when he'd given it to me. He'd had this smarmy look on his face, as if by buying me a nice car it somehow made up for him fucking me for six years. I had to keep telling myself that it was just a thing, but it didn't really work. Next time Matt offered to go car shopping with me, I was fucking going for it.

I drove back to the hospital, kind of conflicted. We'd just finished our last hockey game of the season. We'd lost to USC in the playoffs, so we were done. It had been a great season, a fun season, and now it was over. When we hit the ice next fall, we'd be without Turner, Gillespie, LeBrand, and Farrier. Not having Turner around would bother me the most. I instinctively respected strong leaders, and he was definitely a strong leader. Not only that, he was such a good person. I'll never forget the way those guys had come to the paper and spoken up for me when I'd come out. They deserved a fucking medal for that one.

I chided myself, irritated at going off on a tangent like that. My conflict wasn't over the hockey season ending; it was over the party tonight. Part of me wanted to go, to drink like a fish and enjoy these guys, while the other part of me wanted to stay with Matt. I knew he'd want me to go; I spent most of my time there, enough to show him where my heart was. It wasn't tough duty: I just enjoyed being with him. Especially since he was doing so much better.

The last five days had seen an amazing change in him. His kidney and liver functions had both improved, his bleeding problems had almost gone, and his throat was well enough that he could eat. He was still tired all the time, but he was alert more often, and for longer, and that made it really worthwhile to be there with him. Jack was saying that they might be able to stop dialysis in a week or so. And after that, he might even get to go home. And home would be Escorial, where we could sleep in the same bed and the food would be awesome.

And best of all, he'd gotten well enough that all of his visitors had decided to leave him and return to their lives. First to leave were Matt's parents, with a tearful goodbye, and a promise to visit again in the near future. It seemed that the only good thing to come from this illness was that it made them realize that who Matt fucked was irrelevant. Robbie and Brad had followed about the same time. It was nice to get back into our routine, where it was just he and I, along with the daily visit from JP, Stef, Frank, Isidore, and Jack.

I parked the car and hiked to the hospital. It was crowded and parking was a bitch. Normally I didn't mind walking, but my legs were aching from the game. I got to Matt's room to find him sleeping, like he did so often these days. Rest was good for him, but was it so selfish to want my boyfriend to be back and healthy? “Hey,” I said as I stood over him.

“Hey,” he said back. “How'd we do?”

“Got our asses kicked,” I said sadly. “Season's over.”

“Big party tonight then,” he said. “Go.”

“I like being here with you,” I told him honestly.

“Dude, you're here all the time. I know you love me. Go have some fucking fun,” he said with a smile.

“Fucking fun?” I teased.

“If you want,” he said, and then looked all conflicted. Matt was stuck in a tough situation. He wanted the freedom to fuck around, something his flirtatious manner and libido made almost inevitable. At the same time, he really didn't want me to. He'd never admit that, because he knew how unfair it was, but he still felt that way. If he weren't so incredibly easy to read, and his conflict weren't so apparent, it would really piss me off.

“I want to be with you as soon as you're well,” I told him honestly. That got a big smile. It wasn't a huge sacrifice on my part. I really didn't have his desire to sleep with a bunch of different people. I wasn't like him. Sex with other people was meaningless compared to my time with him. And why would I want something that wasn't perfect, that wasn't the very best? If I wanted to just get off, I had a hand that worked great. I knew that I could be happy with being just with him, but I knew he wasn't like me and that he couldn't be happy like that, at least right now.

“Go with the flow, Wade. We're too tight for some fuck to mess us up,” he said. I nodded and gave him a really nice kiss.

“I'll probably be too drunk to come back tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow, OK?” I said.

“Have a good time. Tell me all about it tomorrow,” he said. I could see the anguish in his expression. He really was transparent. It was driving him nuts that he was laid up like this and he couldn't enjoy the fun. He tried so hard to be stoic like me, to hide his feelings, but he was such a volcano of emotions he could never quite pull it off. That made me smile, a smile I maintained as I headed out of the hospital and hiked back to my car. By the time I got to it, I felt like I was almost at Lag. An hour and a shower later found me at a massive party, surrounded by all my teammates, doing keg stands.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” They shouted as I funneled beer down my throat. I felt myself bloating. Please, God, don't let me puke. But I managed to handle it and keep my cookies. Brownie points for me. This was what college was all about, partying, having fun and getting laid. But even well on my way to being hammered, I wished I was back at the hospital with Matt.

“You're Wade Danfield,” a guy said to me. “I'm Peter Parker.” He held out his hand and I took it. I caught his look, the look of a man who appreciated other men, and felt his hand hold mine just a little longer than it had to. That made me take a closer look at this dude who had shoved himself into my life. The one word to describe him was ‘normal’. Height, weight, muscle tone, handsomeness, all of those things were normal. Nothing exceptional, except maybe his hair, which was a reddish brown, with more red than brown, and his sparkling green eyes.

“Do I know you?” I asked stupidly, since he'd just introduced himself, but his name did seem familiar.

“Not yet,” he said, flirting. This guy and Matt would have a blast. “I've been trying to track you down for the last week or so.”

“Track me down eh?” I said, flirting back. “My boyfriend has been in the hospital, really sick, so I've spent most of my time there.” It was so awesome to be able to call Matt my boyfriend in public.

“I heard about that. Is he OK?” he asked. It was normal concern. More normalcy from this guy.

“He's doing better. He's on dialysis, but we're hoping in a week or so he'll be off that and out of the hospital. It's been a tough few weeks,” I said, letting my guard down for a second.

“That sucks. I'm glad to hear he's doing better,” he said, offering the expected platitudes.

“So why were you trying to track me down?” I asked.

“You mean besides the fact that you're hot as hell?” he teased.

“Yeah, besides the obvious,” I teased back. It really was fun to be out and flirting with other people again. I wasn't as good as Matt was, but it was still fun.

“I'm the Treasurer of the Stanford GLBT club. I wanted to see if you'd be interested in getting involved in our group,” he said. I looked at him, probably with a stunned expression, as I digested that.

“I never thought about that,” I said honestly, stalling for time. It might be fun to find out who the other gay guys were on campus, and to actually do some sort of public service. I felt the Danfield breeding, the political cravings, emerge. “Why me?”

“Duh,” he said. “You're famous; you made a major splash when you came out. You and Matt are both smokin' hot, and hockey players to boot. You'd make a great front for the organization, a public face people can relate to.”

To do that, to be a front, I'd have to be involved, really involved, like an officer or something. “What did you have in mind?”

“You mean for tonight, or for the club?” he flirted.

“Yes,” I said, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, I was thinking that I'd talk to you about the club, then stand back until you were really drunk, then I'd walk you home and get you to fuck my brains out,” he said with a laugh. Only he wasn't joking and we both knew it.

“Nice plan. So tell me about the club,” I said, keeping him on topic.

He got nervous, which told me that there was a lot more to this than he was letting on. We walked out onto the porch where the music wasn't so loud and we could actually talk. “There's kind of a schism right now. We, I and a few of the others were hoping that if you got involved you could help seal that up and get us focused.”

In other words, there was a power struggle going on, and this guy and his group weren't strong enough to take control on their own. “Go on,” I said.

“We have our election in a couple of weeks for next year. I know it's early, but that's how we do it, so there's continuity. Jason Sprague is the president now, and he's graduating. He's an awesome guy, and we'll miss him.” Something in his expression told me that he'd miss Jason more than just as the club president. “He's been the President for two years.” An eternity in a college club.

“So now there's a changing of the guard. Who's up for the big job?” I asked.

“There are three potential candidates. I'm one of them, Patricia Forrest is another, and Jerry Fleck is the third.” He said Jerry's name with almost a sneer. “I talked to Patricia, and we agreed that if we could get you to run, we'd back off and support you.”

“You want me to be President?” I asked. I'd been expecting treasurer, maybe Vice President. He nodded. “You must really hate this Jerry Fleck guy.”

He laughed. “I don't hate him; I just don't want him to be president. He's got these ideas about how we have to fight for all these national causes. Some of them have nothing to do with GLBT issues. I wanted to see us focus more on improving things for gay people on campus. I'm not trying to stick my head in the sand, but most of us also belong to national orgs that are working at that level.”

That made a lot of sense. “So you think that if I come in and run, that will attract enough support, more than Jerry commands?” I asked.

“He's bitchy and domineering. The kind of guy who rams his plans down your throat. Now I don't mind having some things rammed down my throat, but not his ideas,” Peter said, joking. Sort of.

I knew exactly what kind of guy he was talking about. Big mouth, closed ears. “When's the next meeting?”

He smiled, knowing that he'd almost hooked me. “Wednesday night.”

“I think before I make any commitments, I should at least attend a meeting,” I said, stalling.

“I figured you'd say no, so that's way better than I planned,” he said. He was charming and cute in a normal way, but pretty compelling.

“You offer me the most powerful position in the Stanford GLBT community, and you think I would readily turn that down?” I asked him, trying to sound patrician.

He laughed. “Well, when you meet the members, you'll like them. When Jerry sees you and you meet him, you may change your mind.” He couldn't have known that he'd hit on just the right argument. Danfields didn't quit, Danfields didn't lose, and Danfields certainly didn't let themselves get bullied.

“So Wednesday it is,” I said. He gave me all the data, then despite his flirting, he vanished and I went back to the party and kept on drinking.

It was around 1:00am when I had the amazingly stupid idea that I needed to see Matt. Of course, I couldn't drive, but the hospital wasn't that far, so I took off on foot, heading for that big building, feeling like I was on some fantasy quest. I trudged along, well, staggered and trudged, but the walk had the effect of sobering me up enough so I could function. That and the searing pain in my legs from playing hockey, standing up all night at the party, and now hiking halfway across Palo Alto. I got to the hospital after what seemed like forever, tired and exhausted, and forced myself to be all quiet and inconspicuous while I took an elevator up to Matt's floor. More sneaking past the nurses, and then I was in Matt's room.

I headed toward the bed and ran into a cart, making a bunch of noise and waking him up. “What are you doing here?” he asked in his joking tone.

“I missed you,” I said lamely. I leaned in and gave him a big kiss, a kiss that was probably way too passionate for someone in his condition, but I couldn't help it.

“Someone is drunk and horny,” he said.

“Maybe a little,” I said. I knew I was blushing.

“I want to taste you again,” he said in his slutty voice.

“What?” I asked, trying to figure out what he was planning.

“I want to taste you. I want you to jack off and cum in my mouth,” he said. God, he was sexy. Even lying here in a hospital bed he could turn me on like crazy.

“You want me to do that right here, right now?” I asked.

“Yeah, close the door and pull the curtain. That way if someone comes in the curtain will give you enough cover until you get your dick put away.” He'd clearly thought this through. I headed to the door and shut it, then pulled the curtain around his bed. Before I met Matt, I would never have dreamed of doing something this bold, this daring. “Come on Wade. I want to watch you.”

I pulled my pants open and pulled out my dick and started stroking it. “Move closer,” he said. “I want to smell you.” I moved over next to his head so my balls were next to his nose. He inhaled and smiled, cracking me up. But jacking off in front of him like this was such a fucking turn on, I knew I wouldn't be able to last.

“I'm gonna cum soon,” I said urgently.

He turned his head sideways so his mouth was lined up with my dick. “Yeah baby. Blow right into my mouth. Let me taste you.” That did it. I felt my balls rise up and then I exploded, blasting my load right into his waiting mouth. I felt his lips close gently on the head of my dick, and that just urged me on, fueling my orgasm. When I was done I had to sit down, my legs were shaking from the force of my climax. He licked his lips and swallowed my load. “Yum.” I laughed.

“Is that on your approved diet?” I joked.

“Yep,” he said. Then I pulled my bed up next to his and lay down on him like I loved, feeling his warm body underneath me, nuzzling into his neck.

“I love you Matt. Have I told you that lately?”

“I love you too Wade. Tell me all the time. You're the reason I'm going to beat this fucking thing. You're the reason I'm fighting so fucking hard.” What an amazing guy, I thought, right before I passed out.

March 10, 1999

Peter had told me which room they were meeting in, but it was in a building I'd never been to, so I had to kind of wander around a bit before I found it. I was in a really good mood, a good enough mood to be political. Matt had continued to improve, to the point where he could sit up and we could have a conversation without him having to sleep in the middle of it. But the best news of all was that his kidney function had stabilized, while his liver continued to improve. Based on that, Jack planned to take him off dialysis tomorrow. And if all went well, he'd be home this weekend. I was so stoked.

I walked into the room and conversation seemed to hush. I felt like all the eyes in the room had turned to me, and I was the focus of attention. Only I was used to that, and it didn't bother me at all. I smiled and said ‘hi’ to the guy closest to the door, hitting him with my full charge smile. Peter was over in the corner with a guy that was slightly shorter and fatter than him, but still within that ‘normal’ range, so I headed over to him.

“Good to see you,” Peter said, shaking my hand. “I wasn't sure if you'd make it.”

“I said I would,” I said, making sure it wasn't terse. “You, on the other hand, left the party before you completed your plan.”

He giggled at that, and the other guy looked at him curiously. “Wade Danfield, this is Jason Sprague,” Peter said.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said. We were shaking hands when a whirlwind blew into the room. The guy was about 5'10", and chubby, yet that wasn't the most eye-catching part of him. It was like everything about him was overdone. He had some makeup on, only it wasn't done right and made him look whorish. He had flashy clothes, only unlike Stef's, they were flashy in a garish kind of way.

“Hello sweeties. Sorry I'm late,” he said to the whole room. People grinned at him, or with him; it was hard to tell which. I saw his eyes scanning the room, just like mine would if I'd just walked in. I waited for them to get to me, then locked on, eyeball to eyeball, letting him digest the fact that I was here and I was talking to Peter and Jason. His expression changed, he was even more transparent than Matt, and it was an expression I knew. He was all political, all about this club and maintaining his control, and he was trying to decide whether I was a threat or not, and if I was, how to get rid of me. He strolled over to us confidently, and I knew what his first game would be. He'd try to co-opt and neutralize me. He stood in front of me, trying to look coquettish but looking absurd instead. “Wade Danfield. I'd recognize you anywhere. I'm Jerry.”

I shot him the full-watt Danfield smile and watched him recoil as it hit him. “Nice to meet you Jerry. I didn't realize I was so conspicuous.”

“You're the most famous fag on campus,” he chirped. A girl walked up, looking at him with blatant irritation. She was pretty in a butch kind of way.

“I'm Patricia Forrest,” she said, turning toward me. Her hair was a mousy brown color. A day at a spa would transform her, I thought playfully.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said, flirting. “So are you a lesbian?”

“That's why I'm here,” she said, as if it was obvious.

“Oh. I was kind of hoping you fell into the ‘B’ instead of the ‘L’ category,” I said, turning up the charm, and watching Jerry digest that. I wasn't a total fag, and for some reason it seemed important for him to know that.

“Nope, but you might just tempt me over there,” she said, flirting back. I liked her instantly.

“I love a challenge,” I told her.

“So what brings you into our midst?” Jerry said, trying to sound friendly.

To knock you out of the running for president of the club, I would have said if I were stupid. “I ran into Peter at a party and he told me there were a bunch of neat people here and invited me. Actually, he tried to get into my pants first, but left before he could follow through,” I teased. Peter blushed three shades of red.

“You've been lurking at breeder parties?” Jerry asked Peter rudely.

“A party is a party,” he said indignantly.

“It certainly is,” I said. And then a final person walked into the room, and that was presumably the cue for things to begin. He walked right toward our little group.

“Wade Danfield, how nice of you to join us,” he said insincerely.

“It's good to see you, Professor Whist,” I said politely. The bastard had given me an A- when I deserved an A, but no good would come from carrying a grudge.

“Rumor has it you spend a lot of time with Professor Crampton's grandson,” he said.

“Matt Carrswold,” I added helpfully. “He's my boyfriend.”

He eyed me coldly. “How wonderful for you.” He turned to Jason. “We have a full agenda, do we not?” I wandered over and sat down; taking the time to be friendly to everyone I met. Every time Whist looked at me, he was glaring. He must really hate JP. That was going to make this a lot more complicated.