Chapter Text
Alpha ducked into Widener Library to check his email, ironically enough, because he was trying to buy an affordable used laptop so he wouldn't have to check his email in the library. His old one had gone into some kind of death spiral and even though Livingston had offered him a used one in a roundabout kind of way, Alpha had refused him very directly. Now he was scrounging around Craigslist, but he had a good lead and emailed the seller to say he could come by that evening, if convenient.
He had some funds stashed from working two jobs over the summer and his mother had actually coughed up a wad of cash from somewhere and thrust it at him when he'd been on his way out the door.
He glanced up at the Sargent murals facing the main stairs on his way out of the library. They were so fucking depressing with their World War I theme. He was in a good mood and even war murals were not going to bug him. Just before he'd hit the library, he'd just met with Professor Sheehan about doing some research, which would not only pay him a pittance, but would also look good on his CV. That was the only reason why he was over in the Yard and not down at Quincy house, not that there was anyone really there yet either. Most students weren't arriving until the next day. The freshmen were already in residence since they come earlier than everyone else for orientation and he wasn't above ogling a few freshmen. They were distributed in clumps all over the crisscrossed paths (they don't meet up properly, but that's what happens when you let cows do your landscaping) and patchy sections of turf and dear God they all looked so young and fresh faced. Two very cute blondes smiled at him as they walked into the library. It was good to be back. His summer at home had been hot, cramped, and best forgotten. He was never doing that again. Manhattan in August, twelve hour days, no life—never again.
He stood uncertainly at the top of the large sweep of stone steps. Unstructured time was not his favorite thing. In fact, he'd go out on a limb and say it made him antsy. He watched some German tourists posing for photos below him. It kind of tickled him to think of himself haunting people's vacation photos even if he was no more than a blur in the background. At least he was in someone's damn vacation photos.
He wouldn't have glanced twice at the large stone pedestal flanking the steps to the right if he hadn't noticed the girl sitting there was wearing long, dark sleeves. It was about a million percent humidity and above ninety in the shade, but then such is August in Cambridge. He couldn't see her face. Didn't matter. He recognized her immediately—whether from the shape or her head, or her posture, or some ineffable essence that was Frankie Landau-Banks. He just knew. He'd no idea she'd been accepted or was planning to attend. He probably should have checked the alumni magazine to see where she was headed. Just in case. He'd really tried not to think about her at all for the past two years. He'd failed pretty miserably, but he'd tried. It was way too provoking. It still bothered him that she'd never responded to his last drunken email.
Really, he should amble down the steps and go find a cold drink, but instead he crept up behind her. She was sitting cross-legged with a cup of froyo smothered in fresh strawberries beside her, half eaten. No surprise there. She was studying the Q guide and didn't notice him looming behind her.
"You gonna eat that?"
She turned and peered up at him and her expression was almost comical—part surprise, part defiance and one hundred percent Frankie. Her brows furrowed and she didn't say a thing. Just picked up her froyo and took a huge bite and went back to her Q Guide. She even licked the bowl of the yellow plastic spoon. Slowly. Guh.
Alpha sighed and flopped down next to her. At least she had enough sense to sit in the shade when overdressed for the weather. He leaned close to read over her shoulder. "Science A-35. I took that. It's pretty entertaining."
She blinked slowly, but didn't respond in any other way. Not cool. He should be the one ignoring her, but that hadn't ever been a choice. He didn't want to even contemplate the number of times he'd remembered her holding that stupid frozen custard on the beach, shivering half to death and pretty much as close to naked as you can get in public without being arrested. Her arms had been covered in gooseflesh and well, her nipples. He'd have to have been blind not to have noticed. And he definitely wasn't blind.
She looked older, just a little, but mostly she looked the same. Her hair was a little longer and he thought a touch lighter. It was odd to see her right in front of him, close enough to touch. He knew it made her uncomfortable, or set her on edge when he did, so he bumped his shoulder against hers and blatantly leaned against her. Though that set him on edge just as much, so maybe it wasn’t the most brilliant plan.
It was obvious that she wasn't reading the Q guide so much as staring at it and holding still until he got bored and went away. Not good. Not OK. He refused to be ignored. He snatched up her yogurt and shoveled in a huge bite.
That earned him a glare, and then a resigned look that said you might as well finish it.
"What? It's not like I have Ebola or something." He offered the cup back to her, but she shook her head. "Beside you were just letting it melt. I thought you always wanted whatever delicious thing was right in front of you."
Without looking up, she said, "What do you want, Alpha?"
"What? Old friends can't say hello? Chew the fat? Catch up on old times?"
"I wouldn't say we're friends." She tugged on her sleeve, drawing her right hand part of the way into the cuff.
The scar--he'd forgotten that she'd burned the holy hell out of herself that night in the tunnels. Livingston had told him, but he'd also seen her after he'd met with the disciplinary committee. He's seen the bandages on her arm. He had no idea why, but he was generally compelled to notice all of her details. It was sort of 'know thine enemy' and sort of something else. Something else he wasn’t going to poke at.
"So what are we exactly?" Not that he didn't have ideas, but he was curious how she'd phrase it.
"Archenemies?"
"Maybe. Hell if I know. Come get a coffee." He stood and held out his hand to help her up.
"Coffee?"
"Yeah. It grows on bushes. They pick it and roast the berries and then grind it up—"
"No. Why would you want to get coffee with me?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Because it's a nice day. Because there's no one around but freshmen and I'm bored out of my gourd. I know a good place. It's a couple of blocks away. Best espresso in the city." He motioned for her to take his hand and to his surprise she did. She let him help her to her feet, but tugged her hand away and stowed her Q guide in her bag. She looked up at him expectantly and waited for him to lead the way.
It wasn't exactly that he'd forgotten, so much as he'd suppressed the memory of her eyes. They were large, wide set and a strange combination of dark blue with gold starbursts around her irises. He quickly turned away and hurried down the steps and did not check to see if she was following. He had three cigarettes left, but he was damn well going to smoke one of them. He needed something to occupy his hands and his mouth, something else anyway. She wrinkled her nose when he lit one, but didn't complain.
They headed for the gate by Lamont and Alpha said, "Where're you living?"
"Apley."
Jesus. If he couldn't get more than one word out of her at a time this whole next hour of his life was going to take forever and a day.
"Nice. My girlfriend lived there freshman year." He dragged on the cigarette. Maybe he should have said ex-girlfriend?
"Do you still call her the she-wolf?"
He thought he saw the hint of a smile. He threw his hands up in mock horror. "Oh God. You know all my skeletons. What kind of hush money are we taking here?"
There. That earned him an actual smile. He peppered her with questions about her summer and how dear old Alabaster had been when she'd left it. By the time they reached the little coffee shop on Mass Ave and Dana Street she was almost speaking in full sentences. She'd spent the summer in the city doing an internship with a small literary agency in NoHo. He kind of wished he'd known she was kicking around nearby, but at the same time he was glad he hadn't. He'd been way too lonely all summer.
At the counter, he almost offered to pay for her iced coffee, though he could ill afford it. At the last second he decided it might send the wrong message. Maybe there was no right message in this situation. What the hell was he even doing?
They talked for an hour and forty-five minutes about everything from Plato's Republic to which bands were doing reunion tours, but they did not talk about the Bassets or Matthew Livingston, or anything that had happened between them ever. Once she got past her extreme wariness she was chatty and funny. He liked the mobility of her features when she was interested in something and the way she narrowed her eyes slightly when she was listening.
She'd changed and she hadn't. He had a feeling her brain was every bit as sharp and calculating as it had ever been. He'd never underestimate her brain, but she seemed to hide it more skillfully. It wasn't as apparent she was weighing every word before said it; her responses sounded more spontaneous. His gut told him that her conversations with him were different than the ones she used to have with Livingston, because Alpha actually saw her, but he didn't kid himself. This was Frankie and he should probably walk away from her right this minute. He just didn't feel like it. She was like smoking. He could probably quit. Tomorrow.
She excused herself to use the bathroom and Alpha was startled out of watching the sway of her hips as she crossed the room when his phone buzzed in the pocket of his fraying chino shorts.
He prayed that it wasn't his mother. He'd been ignoring her calls for two days. Nope. It was Livingston and he decided that this was going to be an interesting conversation.
"Where are you? I came early because you whined my ear off. And you're not even here."
"Hello to you too. Yes. I'm fine. Thanks for asking. By the way I'm having coffee with an old friend of yours."
"Who?"
"A Miss Landau-Banks. I'm sure you remember her." Alpha really had no idea what direction that was going to send Livingston in. Livingston never mentioned her name. He referred to what had happened as 'that ungodly mess.'
Livingston was silent for a moment. "Where? I'll come meet you."
"Nah. We've been here for ages. I'm going to walk her back to her dorm. It's on the way. She's in Apley. I'll see you in fifteen."
"She's living across the street?" Livingston's voice shot way up the register.
"Don't be such an old lady. It's around the corner and after I broke up with Rose I never saw her and she lived in Apley."
"Uh-huh. But she also never left her room."
Frankie was headed back to the table and Alpha said, "Gotta go." And hung up. "We should head out. That was Livingston. The bastard showed up a day early. I have to go meet him." He was having way too much fun tossing these conversational grenades right and left.
Frankie paled and then flags of color appeared high on her cheekbones. Every bit of ground he'd gained with her in the last two hours vanished. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and tugged her cuff down over her scar.
He told himself it was just as well that Matthew has interrupted. He shoved his hands in his pockets before he did something moronic, like touch her face to see how hot those feverish red patches felt.
It was like the walk there in reverse. Frankie became more and more monosyllabic as they approached her dorm. When they were part way down Holyoke Street she stiffened and stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Alpha followed her gaze. Livingston was lounging right outside the entrance, lurking like a big creeper. There were several reasons he might be there and Alpha didn't particularly care for any of them. He could be there to protect Alpha from Frankie's evil machinations, which was just plain insulting. He might be there because he wanted to see Frankie, which Alpha didn't like at all. Or he might be there because he just hadn't been able to wait to see Alpha, which was hopefully the reason, but the most unlikely.
Alpha set his hand on the small of her back and said, "It's OK. He's had all his shots."
Frankie gave him a rueful smile, straightened her shoulders, and walked forwards until the three of them were standing there in the most awkward of awkward silences. Frankie and Livingston were staring at each other, but neither one seemed to know how to break the silence. He looked tense and liable to crack and she looked wary and slightly wistful. It was both interesting and intolerable.
He kicked Livingston in the shin, not hard, but enough to jolt him back into politeness.
"Hello, Frankie." It was the coldest he'd ever heard Livingston sound. It must be all that blue blood, but the bastard really knew how to pull of hauteur.
Frankie murmured hello back, but she didn't quail or drop her gaze. High marks for chutzpah. Alpha squeezed her shoulder and said, "It was good to see you, Frankie. I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon."
Livingston glared at Alpha's hand like he wanted to chop it off, so Alpha gave Frankie's shoulder another little squeeze just to be perverse. He was tempted to offer her his cell number or give her a chaste kiss on the cheek just to see if Livingston's head would explode, but only tempted.
Frankie picked up on the tension between them and Alpha let his hand drop away. He herded Livingston down the street.
When they turned the corner onto Mount Auburn Street Livingston exploded. "What was that? What the hell is going on? Why are you hanging out with her?"
"I bumped into her. I had no idea she was matriculating. Did you?" Alpha was pretty sure he knew the answer already.
Livingston jabbed the button to change the crosswalk signal repeatedly, which was something he complained about when he saw someone else doing it. "It was in the alumni bulletin."
"No one reads that thing, except you," said Alpha.
"Why?"
"I don't know. You're a man of mystery."
Livingston shot him a look that plainly said 'answer my question before I push you into traffic.'
"I was curious. Just wanted to see if she'd changed or not. Don't read too much into it."
"Uh-huh. Right." Livingston quickened his pace with those long stupid legs of his. Alpha really hated when he did that. Damn non-smoking soccer playing freak.
"Spit it out, Livingston. If you keep that shit in you'll probably get cancer or something."
Livingston stopped on the sidewalk outside Quincy House. "I don't think you should be hanging out with her."
Alpha gave him a please continue wave.
Livingston took off his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his t-shirt. "I really shouldn't have to explain this to you. She lied to us. She manipulated us. She almost got you expelled—"
"Yeah. I was there. I remember."
"So how could you… Oh. You still like her." Livingston's voice went toneless.
Alpha hitched one shoulder in a non-committal little shrug. Yes. He liked her. And no. He wasn't about to admit that and expose his soft underbelly for Livingston to savage. Alpha was also pretty sure the whole thing was a very bad idea and Livingston was right, but he wasn't about to admit that either. Also he wasn't going to push for clarification of the word 'still.' They both knew it was true. Livingston had never said he suspected, but the guy wasn't stupid and Alpha was really shitty at hiding his emotions. He could deflect, distract, and often lie, but Matthew Livingston knew him too well.
And thank fucking God they were waylaid by three different acquaintances at just that second and then ran into their housemaster. Alpha managed to avoid being alone with Livingston for the rest of the evening thanks to an emergency call from The Crimson editor.
Alpha kept busy unpacking, getting organized, doing some preliminary research for his new job. After dinner, he hopped the T to Porter to pick up his new-to-him laptop. But his thoughts never strayed very far from Frankie. He smoked his last cigarette outside near two am and did not go over to University Market to buy a new pack. He needed to cut down. He thought he might also need to have his head examined because Livingston was right. Frankie was dangerous. Unfortunately that wasn't enough of a deterrent.