by E. M. Moore
The girl’s gaze shifts casually, inspecting the ground, trying to act like she doesn’t hear what’s going on right in front of her.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, face blazing. I turn on my heel and head into the house.
I’m about to step on the staircase that leads to my room when a voice stops me. “You’re back,” he says.
I turn to find the guy with the jet-black hair walking toward me. He has his shirt off now, showing off a decent body. The one thing that draws me to him, though, is his smile. It’s so genuine, and I feel like this guy doesn’t know how to be anything but.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I check behind me and notice that Archer’s already preoccupied with the girl hanging off him. For not thinking this was a good idea, he certainly doesn’t seem to be caring much right now. “I was going to um…” I pause, chastising myself for even thinking I had to do what Archer said. He doesn’t own me. Plus, they just invited a bunch of strangers to the house, but I’m not allowed to stay? “I’m not going anywhere, actually,” I say.
“Well, head over here then,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to my friends.”
For about half an hour, I stand with a group of people and have a great conversation. When they ask me what we’re doing here, I tell them we’re just on vacation and pretend not to hear the follow-up question when they ask me if I’m related to the other guys somehow. It’s clear who’s really throwing the party. Archer hasn’t left the grill since it started. Ian is now inviting people into the hot tub. I haven’t seen Sean, but Finnick is talking with another group outside on the deck. His gaze flicks to me, but I look away when the guy—whose name I found out is Luke—moves even closer to me.
I’m pretty confident at these types of parties. It’s not like I’m a stranger to an impromptu get together with beer. That’s basically what college is on the weekends, a bunch of people going out together, talking to people you’ve never met before or winding up at some frat party where the same things happen. The fact that Luke’s moving closer to me means he likes me. Well, at least for the night.
This is how I met my last boyfriend. The one I knew was all wrong for me but didn’t care all that much at the time. Luke doesn’t seem like my ex at all. He’s open and friendly. Nice, even. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t drawn to that, but I can’t shake a burning at the back of my head when I talk to him. Every time I feel it, I turn to see Finnick glancing at me.
One time, I even see Ian peering in at me. He’s dripping hot tub water all over the deck as he gets a beer for himself. It’s too late to hide, but I could’ve scripted what happens next.
“Aisley,” he says.
I try to ignore him, but he catches Luke’s attention too, and I don’t want him to think I’m a complete bitch, so I head over there. I tell myself he’s just going to ask me to refill the coolers or something, but when I get there, he asks, “Who told you you could come to our party?”
Embarrassment burns through me. He’s not exactly trying to keep his voice down, and I don’t know who’s close enough to hear.
“Hey,” a feminine voice calls out from behind him. “Ian, are you coming back?”
He waves and smiles at her, using the full use of his good looks. She waves and turns back around, saying something in her girlfriend’s ear. When Ian looks back at me though, his expression has changed. His gaze his hard, threatening. “You should go to your room.”
Archer comes up behind him then. He’s without the girl, and when I look behind both of them, I see she’s at the grill now, using the tongs to flip hot dogs. “I already told her to leave.”
Ian stands to his full height and crosses his hands over his chest. “It looks like she didn’t listen, brother.”
“I guess not,” Archer says.
Behind me, I feel a presence, and I cringe. “What’s going on?” Luke asks. “Is everything okay?”
I look back at him. “Of course, everything’s fine.”
“Aww,” Ian says. “Aisley’s got herself a little admirer.”
“Knock it off,” I growl at them.
They don’t even hear me. They just pierce Luke with a look. When I peek back at him over my shoulder, he’s looking at me, brows furrowed. He probably wants to know what the hell is going on with my “friends”, and so do I. I want to know what I did that makes them feel like they need to make me miserable.
“She’s our maid,” Ian says, nodding toward me. “I’m sure you can find yourself someone better to hang out with.”
“I’m not—” I break off, groaning in frustration.
“It’s kind of sad,” Archer tacks on. “She’s obsessed with us. She literally won’t ever leave us alone. Trust me,” he says, dropping his voice like he and Luke are co-conspirators. “No one wants that hanging around. The kind of girl that will trap a guy, if you know what I mean.”
Luke slides away from me.
Fury burns through my veins. Hot like lava, it takes control of my body. “I’m not your maid.”
Ian shrugs. “You shouldn’t flatter yourself that you’re anything more than that.” Something in his gaze turns darker the more he looks at me. “You won’t ever be anything more than that.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell him. If putting up with these guys has taught me something, it’s that I need to work hard for what I want, so I don’t have to put up with people like this.
One day, I want to make Ian eat his words.
I give Luke a smile, and then turn to head for the stairs, doing exactly what they wanted from me in the first place.
“Wait, Aisley,” Archer calls out. Everything in me tells me not to look back, but I have to. I’m stuck. These guys have me by the balls, and they know it. If I don’t do what they ask, they’ll just turn me into Mr. Nolan. “My friend earlier said she liked your cover-up.”
He reaches down the stairs, palm up, and I just stare up at him, blinking. “What?”
“Your cover-up,” he says again, speaking like I’m hard of hearing. “Give it to me.”
I bite back all the words I want to say. Everyone who’s in the house is watching this exchange with interest, and embarrassment creeps over my skin. Quickly, I peel the cover-up off and throw it up to Archer.
He snatches it out of the air and smiles at me. “Thanks, Spy. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
I turn away, trying to keep my head up, but they’ve practically stripped me bare in front of everyone. I’ve never met people who went out of their way to be so cruel to someone else before.
11
The next morning, I wake up to disgusting conditions. I’ve never thrown a party myself, so I didn’t know what to expect, but this is awful. Cups litter the floor, the countertops, and every spare inch of deck outside. There are several pizza boxes strewn everywhere. One of them is upside down in the living room, the entire thing dumped out onto the tile. Some of the others are empty, while some of them are half full. At least I know they can actually order dinner on their own. Who would’ve thought?
I peek outside and roll my eyes. The hot tub has a mess of clothes next to it and beer cans everywhere.
It was hard for me to sleep last night. I tried not to let the noise and the voices bother me down there, but they did. I felt alone, apart from everyone else. Hell, they’d made sure of that. They made sure everyone knew I was less than them.
I sniff, my face souring at the smell permeating the air. I don’t even want to go into the bathroom on this floor. I can already tell it’s a giant fucking disaster.
There’s no way in hell I’m cleaning any of this. And I’m not eating in here until it gets cleaned either. I pull out my cell phone and look up cleaning companies in the area. I contact one and get a nice girl on the phone and arrange for her to come over for an expedited cleaning. I only have to wait twenty minutes for her to get here, which I happily do in my room. When she arrives, I tell her to charge whatever she feels like it needs, then point her in the dire
ction of the upper floor and ask her to take care of the back deck, too.
I can hear her intake of breath as I head outside and arrange for an Uber to pick me up, putting in the address of a diner I researched online while I was waiting for the cleaner to come. I feel kind of bad for just throwing her in there like that, but what was I supposed to do? I’m an assistant. I’m not their maid or their cook or their cleaner. The next time they want something, I can get it and charge it to the damn card. I’m sure there’s even a chef around here who will come in and make their meals if need be.
The diner I get dropped off at is on the coast. Beyond the building are sand dunes leading right to a pier. The restaurant isn’t actually that far away from the house. Less than a mile. I could’ve probably walked here. I might walk back, give myself time to clear my head, to think about how humiliated I was last night.
I head up the back steps of the restaurant, which lead to a deck overlooking the ocean. There are some full tables out here, but not a lot. It is a weekday after all, so I imagine there aren’t that many customers this time of day. I wait by the hostess station and then ask for a seat outside. The heat hasn’t settled over the area yet, so it actually feels nice outside. After I order, I sip orange juice and stare out at the waves, letting it lull me into a calm.
Behind me, I hear a familiar voice. Before I can stop myself, I look around. I groan inwardly and try to turn around right away, but I’ve already been seen. I’m hoping Finnick will go his own way and let me stay here uninterrupted, but of course, that doesn’t happen. He sits down opposite me.
I glare up at him. The ferocity of my stare actually surprises him a bit even though it shouldn’t. He lifts his hands up. “Whoa. Not a morning person?”
“No, just not a douchebag lover.”
Finnick snaps his mouth shut. His brown hair glints with red tints in some areas due to the sun. He has the simple rings on his fingers again, but he’s also added something else to his usual wear, a pair of glasses. They’re black-framed, making him look more studious than rock. The whole thing he has going on is such a nice contrast. Not that I should even be thinking like that. “Ouch,” Finnick says. The waitress comes over and hands him a menu, and he accepts it with a smile.
I let out a breath. He’s seriously going to eat with me? Doesn’t he realize that I’ve come here to get away from them?
“How did you like the party?” he asks.
I lift my gaze to meet his over the top of his menu. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah…”
“Hmm, let’s see. Your cousin and Archer kicked me out. Archer made me give my cover-up to some girl he just barely met, and I spent most of the party in my room. Thanks for asking.”
Finnick sets his menu down, splayed open. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I ignore him and his pathetic attempt to apologize.
“I didn’t see you later on, but I thought maybe you went off with that guy I saw you hanging around.”
“No,” I say simply. Bitterness consumes me as I remember Archer’s words telling Luke I’d just try to trap him. Like I don’t have my own life planned ahead of me. I have my own goals, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t trap anyone.
The waitress comes over again, and Finnick gives her his order. When she leaves, he sips his water and then keeps his hands around the perspiring glass. “You know you leave your emotions right out for everyone to see.”
I shrug. That’s not the only time I’ve heard this before. “It’s the only way I know how to be.”
“My cousin eats that shit up,” he says. “He plays with people’s emotions sometimes.”
“Nice guy,” I say sarcastically.
Finnick turns, looking out over the water. He stays that way while I try to read his face. If I’m so easy to see everything on, maybe he is too. But other than looking a little sullen, I can’t see anything from him. He hasn’t been as mean as Archer, Sean, or Ian, but he hasn’t told them to stop either. He hasn’t stuck up for me, and that’s saying something because he is the peacekeeper of the group.
“You must be exhausted,” I say finally.
He turns toward me, brows furrowing.
“Trying to keep you guys all together.”
He clears his throat and looks down. His glasses slip down his nose a little.
“I see you trying to cover up for your cousin and smoothing things over with the other guys. You must be so tired of all of that.”
He grips the glass of water in front of him tighter. “Yeah, I am, actually.”
My mouth drops a little. I expected him to deny it. I expected him to tell me everything’s fine, and I even expected him to tell me to mind my own damn business. They like saying that to me. But, maybe Finnick is different…
He narrows his gaze. “What? You didn’t expect me to say yes?”
I shrug like I wasn’t actually trying to figure everything out, but it seems Finnick has my number.
He chuckles. “I can imagine what you think of us. I mean, it’s clearly written all over your face most of the time, and I can’t blame you for any of it. They’re good guys though. They’re not at their best right now, but they’re good guys.”
To me, it sounds like Finnick is remembering a time when things used to be better. Maybe he needs a come-to-Jesus talk because it seems to me like their group is on the downhill slide.
“Nolan called us yesterday, you know. He told us you contacted him about the fight. The guys were pretty pissed about that.”
“You tried to get me fired. Should I say sorry for not sitting back and taking it?”
He makes an amused sound and then his lips pull into a tight smile. “I see why you push Ian’s buttons. He likes to— Well, he’s used to acting like a dick and not getting called out on it. You’ve called him out since the second you stepped into the house. Actually, we’re all used to getting our own way.”
Finnick’s lips do this little pout thing that’s adorable. I shake my head when I think that. None of that matters. Who tries to get other people fired? And for no reason? “You also let me stay outside, wondering where you guys were when I first got here. You all were just inside, laughing at me probably.”
The waitress brings out our breakfasts at the same time, muting any reply Finnick was going to make. He and I fall into a silence while we eat. When he takes a moment to sip his orange juice, he says, “I’m not happy that the record company hired you,” he says, “but I’m glad you’re here. I like that you’re outside of everything else.”
I sit up straighter. It seems like he just gave me a backhanded compliment, and I don’t know what to do with that. “Why does it matter that I got hired?” I ask, thinking about the questions they were asking Rex when he was first taking me to the house. “Does it have something to do with the fact that Ian thinks I’m a spy?”
“You are a spy,” Finnick says.
I narrow my gaze, my temper starting to flare. Just when I thought Finnick and I could talk like two normal people.
“Hear me out,” he says, holding his hands up. “I’ll explain. Since when do the people needing the assisting not hire the assistants themselves?”
I shrug. “I assume Nolan realized that you guys were busy and decided to hire me to help you out. I mean, you should be busy, though there doesn’t seem to be any real work going on.”
Finnick clutches at his shirt over his heart like I just tried to shoot him with a bow and arrow. In all honesty, it was a low blow, but they deserve it. I’m certainly not going to take it back. “But since the record company hired you, you report to them, not to us.”
“Okay…” I say, not getting it. It’s not like they have anything to hide, right? Before, when they asked me if Nolan wanted me to give them reports about them, I said no. This time, if Finnick asks me, I already know I’ll say yes. But why wouldn’t Nolan want to know what’s going on? Bands are an investment. The record company put them up in this beach house to fulfill a contract that they signed. I would want to
know what was going on with that investment too.
“We told him if he thought we needed one, we would hire our own. He insisted.”
“Why does it feel like you guys don’t like Mr. Nolan?”
Finnick blanches. All the color leaves his face, and I know I’ve hit on something. They really don’t like him. I think back on all the interaction we’ve had, and nothing has popped up as a red flag. He seems like a nice enough guy. In fact, I feel kind of indebted to him. He got me my in.
Finnick ignores my question, almost brushing it off. He’s better at hiding his emotions than I am. “The guys got super pissed when they found out you told Nolan about the fight you broke up. What happened yesterday was in retaliation for that.”
“I was just trying to get back the money you guys took from me.”
Finnick’s pout comes back out. “Yeah, I wasn’t happy about that. I was just going to give you the money.”
“I don’t want your money,” I spit out. “I can make my own.”
He holds his hands up again, but all I do is roll my eyes. He keeps acting like he didn’t say that to piss me off, but then why does he keep saying things to make me retaliate?
I take a deep breath. “You guys did a number on the house.”
“I guess so,” he says, blowing out a breath. “As soon as I got up this morning, I took one look and then walked down the beach to get here.”
I peek under the table and see that Finnick has boots on. “You walked down the beach in boots?”
He snickers. “Yeah, I know. Trust me, you weren’t the only one to give me weird looks.”
I finish my toast and then lean back in my chair, studying Finnick as he finishes the rest of his breakfast. This right here? This reminds me of the guys I thought they’d be when I first listened to their album. We hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk about that because my defenses have been up since moment one. “I checked out your music on the flight here.”
“Yeah?” Finnick asks.
“I…really liked it,” I say, feeling myself blush.
