“Kaitlyn, we can only try to do our best. I am trying to do my best here. The situation is impossible for me to solve, and that’s why I’m leaving it in your hands. You have all the facts. There will be hundreds of bills, and there is always good work that needs to be done. If I resign from the committee and this bill fails, then I will refocus my energy on something else. But,” she paused to make sure I was looking at her as she finished, “I have only one daughter.”

I pressed my lips together, feeling miserable and conflicted.

My mother must’ve seen my struggle because she lifted her hand and cupped my cheek in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Her eyes were reassuring, yet resigned. “I’m not going to insist on making this decision for you. You have to decide what’s wrong and what’s right for yourself.”

CHAPTER 13

Vapor Pressure and Boiling Point

After my mother left, leaving the crushing weight of this decision in my hands, I spent the next hour fretting and chasing circular logic in my head. I had no right answer, but I recognized I had two options.

I could hide in the closet and wait for everything to resolve itself.

Or I could talk to Martin, lay it all out there, and insist we work together to solve this conundrum.

In the end, I realized I couldn’t go back to being the closet girl. Over the past week something within me had fundamentally shifted. I would never be content as a closet-dweller again. I was out of the closet…in a manner of speaking.

So, really, I had one option.

Once I decided Martin and I would work through this together, I absolutely could not wait to discuss the matter with him. Therefore I grabbed my jacket, ran down the three flights of dorm stairs, and jogged to Martin’s fraternity house.

I was still very much in my own head when I spotted Griffin on the front porch, carrying a ladder to where three other guys waited with nails and a sign. Paying the other three no notice, I jogged straight to Griffin.

“Hey, Griffin.”

“Kaitlyn, hey. Are you here to see Martin?” He handed the ladder off to one of the three and gave me a warm smile.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here. Can you take me to him?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t hesitate. He turned for the door to the house and assumed I’d follow. I did.

We climbed two sets of stairs and navigated through a tangle of hallways, all with dark wood floors and beige paint. No art donned the walls; I tried to make a mental topographic map just in case I arrived to visit Martin in the future but encountered no friendly tour guide.

At last Griffin stopped at one of the doors—much like any of the others—and knocked three times.

“Hey, it’s Griffin—”

“Go away.”

“—and I’ve got Kaitlyn with me.”

Griffin gave me a small grin and a quick wink when the last part of his announcement was met with silence followed by approaching footsteps.

The door swung open, revealing a shirtless, sweaty Martin Sandeke. He was dressed only in shorts, socks, and shoes, and he’d obviously just returned from a run. Martin’s eyes landed on mine immediately and he appeared very pleased to see me. I was very happy to see him, sweat and all.

Actually, his chest was so perfect it glistened.

I had a boyfriend that glistened, and not in a weird shimmering kind of way. In a manly, super sexy, flawless kind of way.

Oh…sigh.

I smiled at him, because that’s what one does when faced with a glistening, shirtless Martin. You just do it. It’s a law of nature, like gravity or eating cookies when they’re hot out of the oven. No. Choice.

I was about to say hi, but he cut me off by reaching forward, grabbing my hand, pulling me into his room, and shutting the door.

I was about to say hi again, but I was cut off by the sound of Griffin’s muffled voice from the hallway. “Okay then, you’re welcome. I guess I’ll just get back to what I was doing.”

“You do that,” Martin responded absentmindedly, his gaze moving over my face like he hadn’t seen me in days instead of hours.

Finally, hearing Griffin’s retreating steps, I laughed lightly and was just about to say hi again, when Martin kissed me. He braced his hands on the door at my back and devoured my mouth. I lifted on my tiptoes and tilted my chin to provide better access, but when I reached for his body he pulled away.

“Don’t.” He stopped the progress of my hands by holding them between us. “I need a shower. I just got back from a run.”

“I don’t care.” I shrugged, knowing my traveling stare was somewhat hazy and a lot greedy as I scanned his torso; and then, because I finally could, I said, “By the way, hi.”

At my good-natured greeting, I saw his shoulders visibly relax and he returned my smile. “Hi.”

“It’s good to see you.” I exhaled, feeling better about…everything now we were face to face. My back was to the door and he was standing in front of me, holding my hands in both of his.

“It’s good to see you, too.” His tone was relieved, sincere; but I noted he appeared to be somewhat cagey, bracing. “How was the visit with your mother?”

I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head, opening them again before responding. “It was…troubling.”

He released my hands and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“When she gets to know you, she will like you.”

Martin’s smile was crooked and my allusion to the future seemed to comfort him. He nodded, like he believed me. “Yeah, eventually she’ll come around.”

“Yes. Eventually. I’ll just have to bring you home with me over summer vacation. You and my dad can talk nerd stuff.”

“You talk nerd stuff, too.” Martin turned and crossed to his dresser.

“Well, then all three of us will talk nerd stuff at the same time. It’ll be a nerdy conversation trifecta.” I took three steps into his room and surveyed the space. It reminded me a lot of the room back at the island where he slept: small, cluttered with personal things, small twin bed, comfy comforter and pillows. I liked the absence of sterile and fancy appurtenances.

He was rummaging through his drawers, obviously looking for something in particular, when he called over his shoulder, “So, you said her visit was troubling? What happened?”

“Oh, ugh!” I rolled my eyes, remembering the purpose of my visit was unfortunately not to ogle Martin’s glistening chest of perfection. Flopping on his bed I didn’t try to disguise my aggravation with the subject. “That’s actually why I’m here now instead of waiting for you tonight. I need your help.”

He stopped his search and turned toward me, his forehead marred with obvious concern. “What can I do?”

“Well, it’s…the whole thing is completely bizarre. But I think we can figure this out together.”

“Parker, what’s going on?”

I heaved a big sigh, gave him a small smile, then proceeded to detail the gist of the conversation I had with my mother. When I got to the Ben part, his eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth. He looked irritated, but not exactly surprised.

“He’s always been a fuckwad,” Martin ground out, slamming his dresser drawer shut.

“Yes, well…rapists tend to be unsavory in most facets of their life, but—forget Ben for a moment—the real issue is what we’re going to do about my mother and the Washington Post reporter.”

Cagey Martin was back and he glared at me from across the room with his hands on his hips. “What do you want me to do?”

I heaved another big sigh and admitted, “I don’t know. This is why I need your help. I need you to help me figure out how to make this right.”

He shrugged, his tone growing distant. “Make what right? I don’t see the problem.”

This gave me pause because I felt like the problem was obvious. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I decided to spell it out for him. “The problem, Martin, is that your father is using our involvement with each other—”

“We’re not involved. You’re my girlfriend.”

“He is using our relationship to discredit my mother. He’s already given two interviews where he alluded that she is softening on the Net Neutrality bill because of me, because we’re dating.”

“So?”

My eyes widened at his flippant response and I was struck slightly speechless; I parroted, “So…? So? So, this is very bad. We need to make him stop.”

“It’s none of our business.” Martin scratched his chin, sounding aloof, and shrugged again.

I was really beginning to dislike his shrugs.

I was also starting to lose my temper.

What the hell?

I stood from the bed and paced, ranting to all four walls. “Of course it’s our business. It’s everybody’s business. Net neutrality is everyone’s business! Just because you’ve never had to work for anything in your life doesn’t mean it’s not your business.”

Martin’s expression grew stony and fierce, his jaw set. I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them.

“Okay, sorry.” I reached my hands out between us then let them fall to my sides when he continued to glare at me. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. But you don’t get to ignore important issues that affect everyone but the top one percent just because you’re in the top one percent. It’s irresponsible.”