But they couldn’t. Mint didn’t know what kind of life that would be, to go from everything to nothing. The only thing he could think of, the closest comparison, was senior year of high school, when everyone found out his mother had cheated on his father and his father did nothing—just let it happen, let her walk all over him, let the man she cheated with remain on the board of the Minter Group. When rumors spread through school that his father, a man everyone used to envy, had been witnessed staggering up the driveway outside the Blackstones’ twenty-fifth anniversary party, begging his wife not to leave him. The way people had whispered about Mint in the hallways, the way they’d laughed in the locker room. The way he’d felt. Helpless. Worthless. Humiliated. Losing everything would be like that, but worse.
The door to his room flew open with a bang, as if kicked, and Trevor Daly sauntered in. “El Presidente. Just the man I was looking for.”
Mint snapped his laptop shut and shoved it away. He forced his voice to come out even. “What’s up, Daly?”
Trevor was the last person he wanted to see right now. Not only because he was annoying, one of those teacher’s pet types nobody liked but everybody had to put up with because he was a legacy—but because Mint had hated both Trevor and Charles Smith ever since that humiliating vandalism on the East House float freshman year. Even though he couldn’t prove it, Mint knew it had been them. They’d always been gunning for him.
Trevor shut the door, which made Mint raise his eyebrows.
“I have something to tell you that’s sensitive,” Trevor explained, and Mint stifled a groan. Trevor was also a tattletale; this was probably some story about a brother skimming a few bucks off the beer fund, or something equally inane.
He planted himself on Mint’s bed and kicked up his feet. Honestly, the nerve.
Mint turned around in his desk chair and glared. “Trevor, spit it out. Sweetheart is two days away, and I have details to iron out.”
“Speaking of sweethearts,” Trevor said, with a smile Mint didn’t trust for a second, “I have some unfortunate news about yours.”
He stiffened. “Jess?”
Jess had been distant, though it was hard to pin down exactly how long it had been going on. Maybe a few months, maybe longer. He’d wanted to ask her what was going on, but it was strange, not to mention a little embarrassing, to have to beg your girlfriend to open up to you. The worst part was, she’d stopped touching him. Stopped throwing her arms around him when she saw him, stopped snuggling in bed. She’d even recoiled once when he bent over to kiss her. She’d immediately backpedaled, saying he’d caught her by surprise, but still, it was proof that something was different.
And it was starting to get irritating. Jess had adored him since freshman year—that was what had drawn him to her in the first place, the way she’d looked at him like he was the king of the world. But lately Mint couldn’t help thinking of all the girls on campus who threw themselves at him, literally begged him to take them home at the end of frat parties, when Jess had already gone to bed. He couldn’t help thinking of Courtney Kennedy, the hottest girl on campus, and the way her gaze lingered, the way her mouth curved in a smile that always felt like an invitation. As puffed-up as it sounded, he was Mark Minter, president of the best fraternity on campus, off to Columbia Law next year, heir to the Minter Group fortune—
Wait, no. No longer heir to a fortune, as of today. What would that mean about law school, about his place on campus, his place in the fraternity? His heart hammered as he thought about what the guys would say when they found out their leader had fallen. He pictured them lining the halls to point and laugh as he passed, just like in high school, but so much worse—
“Yeah, who else? Look, you better appreciate this, because I’m actually taking a big risk with my grades and my future by telling you.”
Mint refocused on Trevor. “Say what you came to say.”
Trevor made himself comfortable on Mint’s bed. “You know I’m a TA for Garvey, right?”
“That big-shot econ professor Jess is obsessed with.”
Trevor smirked. “You don’t say. Well, something you may not know about Garvey—it’s kind of an open secret for those of us in the inner circle, but, anyway—he’s a total horndog.”
Mint raised his eyebrows. “Why do I care?”
“You care because Garvey likes to hook up with his students.”
“Disturbing,” Mint said, starting to turn back to his desk. “Why would any college girl do that?”