DURING THE BREAK between classes I commandeered a spot on a couch in one of the many lounges around campus, my feet kicked up on the chair in front of me. Travis sat on the other end of the couch, scrolling through his phone and glancing up every now and then to scowl at anyone who got too close.
“Who needs a bodyguard with you around?” I said, pulling open a bag of chips from the café.
Travis turned his glare on me. “What?”
“You. Mister Sunshine. There a reason you’re grumpier than usual?”
“Yep.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He reached over, stole a few chips, and popped one in his mouth. “Nope.”
With a shrug, I dug into the bag and nodded. “Sounds about right.”
From where I sat, it was a prime position to people-watch, though there was only one person I was on the lookout for. I hadn’t seen the dean’s son pass by yet, but he wouldn’t remain elusive for long. One of the perks of being at the top of the social stratosphere at Astor was being able to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Guys, information, delivery service in the middle of class, you name it. There was always someone dying to be in your favor, and the lucky underclassman today was running toward me now, his overstuffed bag in his arms instead of on his back.
He was out of breath as he came to a stop a few feet away, smart enough to realize entering our personal space was a bad idea.
“I got the, uh…stuff you wanted,” he said, his eyes darting between me and Travis, who barely gave him a cursory glance.
“Good.” I dropped my feet from the chair and leaned forward. The kid went to sit in the spot my feet had vacated, and I shook my head. “Not there.”
“Oh. Right.” He glanced at the other options and took the spot across the table from us, dropping his bag on the floor beside him. As he rummaged through the contents, I shot Travis a look that he answered with a shake of his head.
“Got it,” the kid said, a stack of papers in his hand. He glanced around like he was checking for eavesdroppers, and then handed me the top one. “His name is John Thomas Hawthorne, but everyone calls him JT. Here’s his schedule, along with interests—”
“Stop right there,” I said, causing the kid’s eyes to widen in something that looked like fear. I gave him an easy smile. “What was your name again?”
“Harry.”
“You got all that in one morning, Harry?” When he nodded, I added, “You’re good at this.”
Harry puffed up his chest a little, that fear from seconds ago leaving his eyes. “Thanks. I wanted to make sure I got you as many details as I could.”
“And I appreciate that. So, let’s see what you’ve got. Read it out to me.”
Harry looked down at the papers in his hands then back to me, seemingly unsure of where he should begin. “Do you want the personal or the hobbies and stuff?”
I sat back, propped one of my ankles up on my knee, and twisted the thick gold band on my index finger. “How about we start with personal?”
“Okay.” Harry bent his head back over the paper. “Well, you know his name. He’s eighteen years old, his birthday is December ninth—that makes him a Sagittarius. He’s an only child, his mother is obviously the dean, and as far as I know, he’s a star student. Straight A’s across the board.”
Shit. This kid really was detailed. He even knew JT’s star sign. That was almost…scary. In a handy, information-gathering kind of way that we could definitely use later. He just might have a permanent spot on our “payroll.”
“That’s impressive, Harry. Very impressive.”
He shrugged like it was nothing, but the flush on his cheeks told me my praise meant everything.
“Anything else on the personal?”
“Oh, um…” Harry looked back to his papers. “He broke up with his girlfriend just before college. She went to USC and he came here to Astor.”
Travis’s booted feet hit the ground at the same time my foot did.
“Hold up a second.” Travis sat forward in his seat, his phone now forgotten. “Did you just say girlfriend?”
Harry nodded. “That’s right. They were together for, um”—he scanned his intel—“two years.”
“Two years?” Travis scoffed, and slugged me in the arm. “How you feeling now, Mr. Irresistible?”
I caught Travis’s hand and shoved it away. “I feel just fine.”
“Did you not hear what the kid just said? Golden Boy is straight.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He said he was single.”
“After breaking up with a girl.”
“So? He never said anything about him being straight. Maybe he dated a guy before that?” I looked at Harry, whose eyes widened.
“I mean, it’s not on my list, but it’s, uh, it’s possible.”
“See? Nothing to worry about. I got this.”
“Uh huh.” Travis snorted and fell back into his seat. “Whatever you got to tell yourself, man.”
“Okay, Harry. What else you got? What’s JT like? What’s he into?”
“Girls,” Travis piped up.
I leveled him with a glare. “Why don’t you go back to hate-stalking a certain someone’s posts for the day?”
“I’m not stalking anyone.”
“Just because you’re not physically following them doesn’t mean it’s not called stalking.”
Travis flipped me off but brought his phone back up to “not” stalk the person whose feed we both knew he was now scrolling through.
“Harry?”
“Right.” Harry flipped the paper over and drew his finger down the bullet points. “He’s a freshman, so he’s doing his core classes, but he seems to be looking into the university newspaper, so it seems he’s into journalism—”
“Gossip,” Travis interjected.
“Like you can talk.” I looked pointedly at his phone.
“But I also saw him looking at the creative writing courses being held after school.”
“Hmm, interesting.” And the complete polar opposite to me. Don’t get me wrong, I had nothing against someone who could spin a good story—especially if it got me out of a bind. My father’s lawyer was an expert at that. But me, I liked numbers. They made more sense to me, and also helped when it came to counting my money. “What about likes and hobbies? What’s he do out of school?” I needed an in, and so far I had shit.
“It looks like he volunteers once a month at Back on Your Feet NY—”
“Which is…?”
“It’s a place people who are struggling can go to get help with finding opportunities. You know, like getting suits for interviews, help with resumés, that kind of thing.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re dealing with a saint,” Travis said, shaking his head. “You’re so fucked.”
I ignored him and gestured for Harry to continue. “What else?”
“Um. Likes going to bookstores, the theater, even the Off Broadway stuff. He’s got a sweet tooth, favorite candy seems to be peanut M&M’s, he’s a fan of the Frrrozen Hot Mint Chocolate at Serendipity3—”
“Speaking of stalkers,” Travis murmured.
“Specifics are great,” I said, waving off Grumptastic over there.
Harry sifted through the papers. “I made a list of some of the books on his Kindle app. He doesn’t really have a lot going on with his social media accounts, but I can always go back into his emails and poke around if you want.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” But good to know Harry’s hacking skills were on point for future reference. He handed me the rest of the information he’d gotten, and I flipped through the pages, stopping on the one that listed JT’s class schedule. A quick glance at the time told me he was about to head to a class with Professor Kingston, the hardass, and even though I had one of my own to get to, I’d always make time for a special appearance.
Priorities and all.
“Harry, you’re a good man to have around,” I said, grabbing my wallet from my back pocket. I pulled out a couple of crisp hundred-dollar bills and held them up. “One for the intel, one for your silence.”
Harry’s eyes stayed glued to the money as he nodded eagerly and made a motion of zipping his lips. Once I handed him the bills, he folded them and put them in the front pouch of his bag. As he got to his feet, I noticed the way he carried the damn thing instead of strapping it on.
“Wait. What’s the deal with your bag?”
He looked down at the overstuffed monstrosity in his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Why’s it not on your shoulder?”
“Oh. The strap broke, and I can’t—”
I fished out another bill and handed it to him. “Get a new bag, Harry. Can’t have your secrets spillin’ out all over the place.”
Harry dropped his bag in the chair, pushed up his glasses, and took the additional bill. “Wow. Thanks, um, and hey, if you need anything else, I can get it for you no problem.” His gaze shifted to Travis before landing back on me. “Any of you.”
“Appreciate that, man. I’ll be in touch.”
As he hurried off, I balled the empty bag of chips and made a perfect shot into the trash can.
Travis pulled his eyes away from his phone for long enough to ask, “And what exactly do you plan to do with all that useless information?”
“Useless? This shit’s a gold mine. Which you’d know if you ever put an effort into your conquests.”
“Your definition of effort and mine are vastly different.”
“You don’t say.” I rolled up the papers, shoving them into my bag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hot date waiting for me in King’s class.”
