<b>Chapter </b>116
Jade’s POV:
Thete October heat hung heavy over Princeton’s campus, turning the usually crisp fall air into a muggy reminder that climate change was real. I sat in the corner of the university coffee shop, flipping through emails on my phone and enjoying the rare quiet afternoon.
The door to the coffee shop flew open with enough force to make the little bell above it ring twice. Chase Astor burst in, his usually perfect hair disheveled and his designer polo shirt wrinkled. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his eyes darted around the room with frantic energy until theynded on me.
“Jade!” He rushed over, practically copsing into the chair across from me. His breathing was heavy, as if he’d been running across campus. “I’m so fucked. I need your help. Like, seriously, I’m dead if you don’t help me out here.”
I took a deliberate sip of my iced americano and didn’t look up from my phone. The cold liquid slid down my throat, a pleasant sensation against the oppressive heat. “No.”
“Come on!” Chase leaned forward, desperation written across his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. “We’re practically friends! Remember the race track? We pulled down those European guys‘ pants together! That’s a bonding experience if I’ve ever had one!”
That memory almost made me smile. Almost. ke and his crew had been humiliated so thoroughly that night, and Chase had certainly enjoyed ying a part in it. The sight of them running naked through the mud had been particrly satisfying.
“That doesn’t make us friends,” I replied coolly, scrolling to another email without reading it.
Chase continued his desperate plea for nearly fifteen minutes, throwing out everything from offers of money to promises of future favors. Several other students nced our way<b>, </b>curious about the usually confident Chase Astor looking so disheveled and panicked. I let him talk himself out, asionally checking my watch.
Finally, I set my phone down with a soft click against the wooden table. “Say what you need.”
Relief washed over Chase’s face<b>, </b>his shoulders visibly rxing. “Thank you! Jesus, I thought you’d never listen.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles. “So my sister invited this Harvard Law professor to give a guest lecture. Prestigious guy, total asshole with an ego the size of Texas. I may have… told him his theory on constitutional interpretation was outdated bullshit.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I may have added that histest paper was so derivative it could have been written by a first–yearw student with a Wikipedia subscription and a bottle of Adderall.” Chase grimaced, tugging at his cor. “In front of <b>the </b>entire faculty lounge,<b>” </b>
“The professor stormed out, said his professional pride was wounded, and now he’s gone back to Harvard. My sister
<b>12:26 </b>Mon<b>, </b>Sep <b>22 </b>
:.
公司
is on the warpath. She’s been hunting me across campus all morning like some kind of designer–wearing predator.” Chase groaned, slumping back in his chair dramatically.
“Then just let your sister kick your ass and be done with it,” I said, picking up my phone again, the screen illuminating my <b>face</b>. “You won’t die from it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Money usually fixes these things<b>,</b>” <b>I </b>suggested, scrolling through my messages. A barista called out an order in the background, the <b>hiss </b>of the espresso machine punctuating our conversation.
“I tried that. The guy doesn’t want money. Says his ‘academic integrity‘ was insulted.” Chase made air quotes around the words, rolling his eyes.
I studied Chase for a moment, noting the genuine anxiety in his eyes. “What’s your major again?”
“Law.” He straightened slightly.
“You?” I couldn’t hide my surprise, setting my phone down again. “The guy who illegally races cars, gambles underground, gets into bar fights, and threatens and intimidates people left and right… is studyingw?<b>” </b>
Chase had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Family connections. My sister’s a professor at Princeton Law. My parents put her in charge of keeping me in line.” Heughed humorlessly.
I considered this information, drumming my fingers lightly against the table. The solution seemed obvious. “Call Chris Jensen.”
“What?” Chase’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly.
“Chris Jensen. He’spletely qualified to give a lecture at your school.” I said it casually, as if suggesting he order
another coffee.
Chapter Comments
2
Write Comments
< SHARE