Read Online Oxford Whispers by Marion Croslydon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marion Croslydon
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breath. Sometimes Harriet managed to push him over the edge.
There was a reason he’d chosen to live in a home he owned, away from the heart of university life. That reason was the exact opposite of feeling tied down. Dating Harriet satisfied his father, therefore he had to put up with her … as long as it got his father off his back. She was a good shag anyway, and he guessed it had to count for something.
How would Madison be in bed? How would she feel underneath him?
“Hey, mate, let me join you. Your girlfriend is annoying me.” Monty’s head appeared around the corner of the kitchen door, followed by his body.
His housemate’s arrival startled Rupert, and he had to drag his mind away from some entertaining mental snapshots of Madison. In none of them was she dressed.
Rupert accepted the apple Monty offered him. Giving it a tentative bite, he watched his pudgy friend with concern. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin a patchy color. No doubt Monty had been knocking down vodka shots since the break of dawn.
“You’re safe, Harriet won’t attack you here. You don’t need to be scared of her, though. She won’t bite.” Rupert smiled at Monty’s frown and took a seat at the kitchen table. Since they’d boarded together at Eton, he had been Rupert’s only support.
“I’m not so sure about that. She always looks like she’s about to jump straight at my throat. She doesn’t like me.” His friend sat opposite him. “She should be cast in one of those dumb vampire films. She’d win some big freakin’ Oscar, too.”
“My bad influence is rubbing off on you, after almost ten years.” Rupert smiled.
“You shouldn’t laugh.”
Rupert threw away the apple half eaten and poured himself a glass of water.
Monty continued. “You and Harriet have been together for a year already. That kind of girl has expectations. Watch out.”
The thought of anything permanent with his spoilt girlfriend made Rupert squirm. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. With my exams last week, I forgot to ask you if you saw your father after the race.”
Rupert groaned. “He reminded me of the Vance heritage and what comes with it: Oxford Blue, first-class honors, the City, the world …” Monty already knew the story.
“You might have a 2.1, and a Half Blue, but he’ll get over it. I’m more worried about what comes next, after Oxford. Your new ‘career plans.’” Monty added the quote marks with his fingers while saying the last two words.
Rupert had never wanted to go into banking like his father and his father’s father. For him, that world had provided the perfect excuse for his father to bugger off from their lives.
At a party in London, he had met a journalist for the Times . They had clicked, and after exchanging emails he had invited Rupert to meet some of his colleagues. They’d offered him an internship for the summer, something Rupert felt to be a real coup.
“I don’t intend to talk about it anytime soon,” Rupert replied after a moment.
Monty’s eyebrows arched. He stood and went to the refrigerator where he poked around for something extra, an act of foraging Rupert was very familiar with. But, as too often lately, Monty settled on another beer.
“Don’t you think mineral water might do you some good? You’ve been at the pub all day.”
Monty dismissed Rupert’s comment with a wave. “Shut up, Mother Teresa. Everyone can’t be a saint like you, spending their summers teaching the alphabet to orphans in Swaziland.”
“Lesotho, actually. That’s where I went this year. Swaziland was for my gap year.”
“They’re both in Africa, so that’s not too long a shot.”
“I’m no saint anyway, but you really took drinking up a notch since last year.”
Monty checked his watch and groaned. “I have to go to bed. Sleep is the best cure for a hangover.”
Rupert shook his head. As Monty walked toward the stairs and his bedroom, Rupert’s mobile rang. He checked the caller
There was a reason he’d chosen to live in a home he owned, away from the heart of university life. That reason was the exact opposite of feeling tied down. Dating Harriet satisfied his father, therefore he had to put up with her … as long as it got his father off his back. She was a good shag anyway, and he guessed it had to count for something.
How would Madison be in bed? How would she feel underneath him?
“Hey, mate, let me join you. Your girlfriend is annoying me.” Monty’s head appeared around the corner of the kitchen door, followed by his body.
His housemate’s arrival startled Rupert, and he had to drag his mind away from some entertaining mental snapshots of Madison. In none of them was she dressed.
Rupert accepted the apple Monty offered him. Giving it a tentative bite, he watched his pudgy friend with concern. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin a patchy color. No doubt Monty had been knocking down vodka shots since the break of dawn.
“You’re safe, Harriet won’t attack you here. You don’t need to be scared of her, though. She won’t bite.” Rupert smiled at Monty’s frown and took a seat at the kitchen table. Since they’d boarded together at Eton, he had been Rupert’s only support.
“I’m not so sure about that. She always looks like she’s about to jump straight at my throat. She doesn’t like me.” His friend sat opposite him. “She should be cast in one of those dumb vampire films. She’d win some big freakin’ Oscar, too.”
“My bad influence is rubbing off on you, after almost ten years.” Rupert smiled.
“You shouldn’t laugh.”
Rupert threw away the apple half eaten and poured himself a glass of water.
Monty continued. “You and Harriet have been together for a year already. That kind of girl has expectations. Watch out.”
The thought of anything permanent with his spoilt girlfriend made Rupert squirm. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. With my exams last week, I forgot to ask you if you saw your father after the race.”
Rupert groaned. “He reminded me of the Vance heritage and what comes with it: Oxford Blue, first-class honors, the City, the world …” Monty already knew the story.
“You might have a 2.1, and a Half Blue, but he’ll get over it. I’m more worried about what comes next, after Oxford. Your new ‘career plans.’” Monty added the quote marks with his fingers while saying the last two words.
Rupert had never wanted to go into banking like his father and his father’s father. For him, that world had provided the perfect excuse for his father to bugger off from their lives.
At a party in London, he had met a journalist for the Times . They had clicked, and after exchanging emails he had invited Rupert to meet some of his colleagues. They’d offered him an internship for the summer, something Rupert felt to be a real coup.
“I don’t intend to talk about it anytime soon,” Rupert replied after a moment.
Monty’s eyebrows arched. He stood and went to the refrigerator where he poked around for something extra, an act of foraging Rupert was very familiar with. But, as too often lately, Monty settled on another beer.
“Don’t you think mineral water might do you some good? You’ve been at the pub all day.”
Monty dismissed Rupert’s comment with a wave. “Shut up, Mother Teresa. Everyone can’t be a saint like you, spending their summers teaching the alphabet to orphans in Swaziland.”
“Lesotho, actually. That’s where I went this year. Swaziland was for my gap year.”
“They’re both in Africa, so that’s not too long a shot.”
“I’m no saint anyway, but you really took drinking up a notch since last year.”
Monty checked his watch and groaned. “I have to go to bed. Sleep is the best cure for a hangover.”
Rupert shook his head. As Monty walked toward the stairs and his bedroom, Rupert’s mobile rang. He checked the caller
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