Page 283 of Ruthless Court

“Party?”

“No.”

“Your place?”

I give him a look.

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, wow. Haverhill is courting.”

“Stop saying that.”

Noah grins. “Flowers?”

“No.”

“Good,” Eli says. “Too much this early.”

I twist off the bottle cap.

“I wasn’t asking.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I own clothes.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You live here.”

I walk toward my room.

Eli calls after me.

“Wear something that says emotionally available but still draftable.”

I shut the door.

“Not helpful.”

“It was free.”

I lock it before he decides to continue.

Then I look at my closet.

Black shirts.

White shirts.

Stanford shirts.

Team-issued quarter-zips.

Three suits.