Chapter 1: I'm Not Desperate

The Morrison mansion Was very quiet.

Every footstep, every door closing, every word spoken too loud just got swallowed by the high ceilings and the thick rugs and the money that was built into the walls. To anyone else it probably felt peaceful. To Alex it felt like being underwater.

He was sitting at a desk that could’ve hosted a board meeting. The thing was massive, dark wood, polished until you could see your reflection in it. And he was using maybe one square foot of the corner. Cracked tablet, three textbooks, one blue highlighter that was dying. 

Across the room on a shelf sat the laptop Silas bought him the week they moved in. Custom built. Still in the leather sleeve. Alex hadn’t opened it once. If he did, it meant he was accepting it. Accepting that he was part of this house, part of this family, part of the charity case Silas and Bridget were trying not to call him.

A knock came at the door. Soft, familiar.

"Hey, sweetheart?" 

Bridget. His mom. She poked her head in wearing the navy gown she had on for the gala tonight. She still did her makeup the same way she did when they were struggling in that two-bedroom apartment. Simple. Clean. She looked younger than she was, but her eyes had lines that money couldn’t erase.

"You’re going to ruin your eyes," she said, coming in. "I’ve told you."

"Just one more chapter," Alex said. He closed the textbook but didn’t really mean it. "Market analytics. It’s dull but it’s an easy A."

She walked over and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. She’d been doing that since he was five. "You don’t have to do all this anymore. You know that, right? We’re okay now. We’re safe."

Safe. 

To mum, safe meant the rent was paid on time and the fridge was full and nobody was calling about overdue bills. 

To Alex, safe meant boundaries. And the boundaries in this house kept moving.

"I like being prepared," he said instead. 

Before she could argue, footsteps sounded in the hall. Heavy. Deliberate. 

Silas. 

He came in adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo. Billionaire, CEO, the kind of man who could buy buildings without checking the price. But when he looked at Alex, all of that dropped away and he just looked proud.

"There’s my best investment," Silas said with a grin. He came around the desk and clapped Alex on the shoulder. The weight of his hand was warm. "Dean called me yesterday. Said you’re top of your class again. They want you in the honors seminar next year."

Alex ducked his head. "I’m just doing the work."

"It’s more than that," Silas said. "You’ve got a mind for this. When you graduate, there’s a place for you at Morrison Global. No interview. No bullshit. Your name on the door."

"Thank you," Alex said quietly. 

From the doorway, someone cleared their throat. Loud. 

"Wow. This is disgusting."

Troy. 

Of course it was Troy. 

He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a black silk shirt with the top three buttons undone. His hair was a mess like he’d just rolled out of bed, or someone else’s bed. He smelled like expensive cologne and whiskey. 

At twenty-two he’d already graduated and already decided that working for his dad was beneath him. Gap year, he called it. Alex called it running away.

Silas’s whole face changed. The warmth was gone. "I thought you were out tonight."

"I was," Troy said, pushing off the doorframe and walking in. He moved like he owned every room he stepped into. "Forgot my wallet. Didn’t realize I was interrupting the annual ‘praise the golden boy’ ceremony."

Bridget stepped in quickly, like she always did when Troy and Silas were in the same room. "There’s leftover pasta in the kitchen if you’re hungry before you go out."

Troy looked at her and his expression softened for half a second. He actually liked Bridget. She was the opposite of his mom who’d left when he was eight. 

"I’m good," he said. "Meeting Stella and the guys at that new lounge downtown." Then his eyes cut to Alex and the cold came back. "Some of us have lives outside of textbooks."

Silas let out a long breath. "If you spent half as much time on the company as Alex spends on his courses, you wouldn’t need a gap year to find yourself." He turned to Bridget. "We should go. We’re going to be late."

"Be good," Bridget told Alex, squeezing his shoulder before she followed Silas out.

The moment the front doors shut downstairs, the entire atmosphere in the study shifted. 

Troy didn’t leave. 

He just stood there, watching Alex.

"You really enjoy this, don’t you?" Troy said finally.

Alex didn’t look up. "Enjoy what."

"Playing the perfect son." Troy walked further into the room. "Playing the kid who earned his spot here."

"I did earn it," Alex said, turning a page in his book even though he wasn’t reading.

"Sure you did." Troy stopped behind Alex’s chair. Alex could feel him there. Could feel the heat of him. Could smell the alcohol under the cologne. "Studying. Perfect grades. Early nights. No parties. No drinking. No fun. Don’t you ever get bored?"

"Unlike you, I don’t have a safety net," Alex said. "I actually have to work."

Troy laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. "My safety net. Right." He reached over Alex and tapped the textbook with one finger. "Profit margins. Fascinating. Tell me, do you dream about spreadsheets?"

Alex snapped the book shut. "I’m not like you, Troy. I don’t spend my dad’s money to avoid dealing with my life."

The room went quiet. 

Troy went very still. 

"My dad," he repeated slowly. 

"That’s what you said," Alex shot back. 

Troy came around the desk so he was standing in front of Alex. He was taller. Broader. And he knew it. 

"Let me get this straight," Troy said. "You come into my house. You take my dad’s attention. You take my mom’s kindness. And now you’re going to lecture me about wasting money?"

"I didn’t ask to be here," Alex said. 

"But you like it, don’t you?" Troy leaned down, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of Alex’s chair. "You like the new house. You like the new school. You like Dad looking at you like you’re the son he actually wanted."

"That’s not true."

"Isn’t it?" Troy’s voice dropped. "Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you and Mom get your own place?"

"Because we couldn’t afford it," Alex said through his teeth. 

"Exactly." Troy straightened up, but he didn’t move away. "So don’t act like you’re better than me. You’re here for the same reason I am. Money."

"I’m here because my mom married your dad," Alex said. 

"And I’m here because I was born to him," Troy said. "Difference is, I don’t pretend I deserve it."

Alex stood up. He needed space. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Or what?" Troy didn’t move. "What are you going to do, Alex?"

"Nothing. I just want to study."

"Study." Troy said the word like it was dirty. He looked Alex up and down. "You know what your problem is?"

"I’m sure you’re going to tell me."

"You’re so busy being good that you forgot how to live." Troy circled around him slowly. "No drinking. No girls. No guys. No mistakes. You’re twenty and you act like you’re forty."

"I’m focused."

"You’re scared." 

Alex turned to face him. "I’m not scared of anything."

"Really?" Troy stopped right in front of him. Close enough that Alex could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "Then prove it."

"Prove what."

"That you’re not a coward." Troy’s gaze dropped to Alex’s mouth for half a second before coming back up. "When’s the last time you went out? When’s the last time you kissed someone? When’s the last time anyone touched you?"

Alex’s jaw tightened. "That’s none of your business."

"It is if you’re going to sit here and act like you’re better than me." Troy smiled, but it was sharp. "Let me guess. The answer is never."

Heat crawled up Alex’s neck. "Shut up."

"Make me." Troy took a step closer. "Or better yet, do something about it. Go to a club. Find someone. See what it feels like to actually live."

"I’m not..."

"What? Not desperate?" Troy cut him off. "Because you look desperate to me. Desperate to be anything other than the boring, perfect kid in the corner."

The words hit too close. Alex could feel his pulse in his throat.

Troy saw it. And he smiled. 

"You want to know what I think?" he said quietly. "I think you don’t even know who you are yet. I think you’re sitting here pretending to be straight-laced and studious because you’re terrified of finding out what happens if you don’t."

"I know exactly who I am."

"Do you?" Troy tilted his head. "Then answer me this, little brother. How do you even know you’re gay?"

Alex froze.

"If you’ve never been with anyone," Troy continued, voice soft and cruel. "If you’ve never been kissed, never been touched, never been fucked. How do you know? Huh? Maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re just a sheltered kid who read too many books."

The room tilted. 

Alex couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking. 

Troy watched it happen. Watched Alex fall apart piece by piece. And when he was done, he looked almost bored. 

"Thought so," he said. He reached out and patted Alex’s shoulder. Once. Heavy. "Study hard."

He turned and walked out. Left the door wide open behind him.

Alex stood there for a long time. 

His chest hurt. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

_Virgin. Sheltered. A joke. Scared._

The highlighter slipped from his fingers and fell to the desk. It rolled across the page and left a jagged blue line through two hours of notes.

He hated Troy. God, he hated him. 

But worse, he hated that part of him believed it. 

He was tired. Tired of being good. Tired of being quiet. Tired of letting Troy use his silence as a weapon.

Something in him broke. Not loud. Just a quiet snap.

Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. Scrolled past his study group, past his mom, stopped on one name.

Kevin.

He hit call.

It rang twice.

"ALEX?!" Kevin’s voice exploded through the speaker, music and people yelling behind him. "Bro it’s Saturday night! You’re alive! I thought the library ate you!"

Alex looked at the desk. At the books. At the laptop still in the box. 

"Kevin," he said. His voice was steady. 

"Yeah? What’s up? You need me to drop off notes?"

"The Vault," Alex said. 

There was a pause. The music got quieter. "The club? The one I told you about downtown? The one where..."

"Take me tonight," Alex cut in. 

"...What? Why? That place is intense, Alex. You don’t even drink."

"I don’t care," Alex said. "Just take me."

Another pause. "Are you okay?"

"No," Alex said honestly. "That’s why I’m going."

He hung up before Kevin could ask anything else. 

He left the textbook open on the desk. Left the highlighter on the floor. Left the door open just like Troy had.

And he walked out.