by Lyla Payne
“Sebastian?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you could take me home now?” The question in her voice is more air than anything, a barely formed thing that would be easy enough to pretend never reached my ears.
But I don’t do that. Because I want to get the fuck out of here, too.
By the time I get back to the beach house—I can’t take another night of other people—my surprise over that stupid kiss has transformed into anger. It blackens at the sight of Quinn reclined on the cream leather sofa, his dirty bare feet propped on the coffee table and a laptop balanced on his lap. Fox Sports Live plays on the flatscreen on the wall and SportsCenter flickers on the smaller one behind the bar. They’re both on mute and he doesn’t hear me come in because he’s listening to something else on his Bose headphones. Probably a tennis match somewhere. Audra mentioned something about Blair keeping her up late with phone calls from Bradford, since he’s halfway around the world chasing a little yellow ball.
I kick his feet, his grunt and desperate attempt to save his laptop from death on the marble floors giving me at least a modicum of satisfaction.
He catches his computer and sets it on the coffee table, removes his headphones, and then glares up at me. “Do you take pleasure in being such an asshole all the time?”
“Pretty much. What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get some work done.” He makes a face. “Emilie and Ruby are in charge of training the new recruitment chairs for Delta—”
“Don’t care,” I interrupt, striding over to the bar and pouring myself two fingers of scotch.
“You’re even saltier than usual tonight. Where have you been?”
“An engagement party for the gay guy who runs the campaign.”
“Ah. That explains it. Your disgust for love in any form really fucks up your day.” He pauses and even with my back turned toward him, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m not going to like what he has to say. Every muscle tenses but it doesn’t stop him. “Which begs the question, what are you doing with Audra Stuart?”
I count to ten, dropping two ice cubes into my glass and taking a big enough swig to give me the space to reply. By the time I turn around, ready to answer, my desire to punch him in his stupid face has abated, at least. “I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”
“It’s not. Call it curiosity.”
Another sip, and my belly grows warm. “You mean Emilie’s asking.”
He shrugs. “Despite what you think, she’s not my keeper. But I’d be lying if I said you haven’t been the hot topic of conversation since yesterday. Nice performance at the baseball party, by the way.”
The reminder twists my lips. It had been stupid to rile up the Stuart boys, but it was just so easy. Dumb meatheads.
Instead of admitting I could have handled things better I finish my drink and toss it in the sink for Roberta to clean in the morning. “My relationship with Audra is not up for discussion.”
“Ah, so there is a relationship.” Quinn sighs at my nonresponse and joins me behind the wet bar, pouring a craft beer into a chilled tumbler. He smiles in response to my cocked eyebrow—my half brother is many things, but a beer drinker is not typically one of them. “I’m branching out.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m afraid I came here for some much-needed solitude, so if you’ll excuse me …”
“Actually, there was another reason I’m here. I needed to go over some Rowland board minutes with you. There’s a vote coming up that affects all of us with major shares.”
A headache starts at the base of my skull, sparked by the reminder that I haven’t figured a way out of having to care about the goings on at Rowland Communications. Exacerbated by the fact that using Audra is a long-term investment that may or may not ever pay off regardless of how well she plays her role.
“Okay.”
I rest my weight on the arm of the couch and pinch the bridge of my nose while he drones on about numbers and public holdings, shifting of investments and a bunch of other crap that goes in one ear and out the other. Rowland Communications—at least the portion that affects the money so generously allowed me by my father—typically interests me very much, but it’s depressing me at the moment.
When he’s done talking I wave my hand and get to my feet. “Whatever you think is best for the company in the long term, Quinn. I think I’ll be cashing out before it affects my investments.”
The words slip free, hovering in the air as though they’re attached to my mouth in a comic book conversation bubble, too far gone to take back but not to regret them. I don’t want to talk about my future with Quinn.
A glance his direction reveals wide eyes and a slightly open jaw. He looks like even more of a handsome idiot than ever. The slight, constant jealously that he received every last ounce of Teddy’s good looks tugs at me. I look almost exactly like my mother but a little crisper. Prettier.
That did come from Teddy.
“What are you talking about?” There’s no surprise in his voice. It’s even. Calm. It reminds me that Quinn and I were once excellent partners, if not always willing ones, and that he’s not as dumb as he looks.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“Are you thinking about leaving Rowland?”
His persistence reignites the boiling anger in my gut. “I don’t actually work at Rowland,” I snap. “And we both know I never will. Teddy doesn’t even trust me as much as he trusts you, and that’s not a whole lot to begin with. It’s time for me to think about the rest of my life. Cut my losses.”
His black eyebrows knit together, blue eyes probing my face as though they can poke right through and examine my brain. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve never really indicated that you want to do anything but collect a paycheck for doing nothing. You having other aspirations is news to me.”
The insults slide off my skin, leaving behind an oily residue but not doing any lasting damage. What’s strange is the honest concern that seems to lie underneath. My relationship with Quinn has been brotherly, it’s been competitive, it’s been full of contempt and dislike on both sides. I’m not sure what it’s been since Emilie Swanson sauntered into our lives, but distant is as good a description as any.
“Never mind. Forget it.” I turn my back on him, on the invitation to confide in him like family. “Let me know if there’s a vote I need to be present for at the next meeting.”
Quinn doesn’t respond. It’s hard to say if it’s because there’s no need or if, for the first time in our lives, I’ve managed to shock him into silence.
Chapter Seven
Audra
I sit on the front steps of the sorority house for a good hour after Sebastian drops me off, curled under the monogrammed blanket we keep outside to ward off the chill. A breeze, brisk enough to nibble at my cheeks and hands as the night grows deeper, threads like fingers through my hair.
It’s not the kiss. I’ve kissed guys before—more than my brothers know about but not as many as I hope to before I die—but this is more. And far more disturbing.
It’s the sparks that linger along my lips and on my tongue, down my throat, fizzing and popping like bubbles. They’re sweet, like the taste of whiskey on Sebastian’s mouth. They make me want more from him than just conversation and kisses, which shocks me.
And thrills me.
Both feelings swirl in my blood. Shudder down my spine. There’s no way to tell which is stronger, whether one is right or one is wrong, or to know whether I’ve got some sort of brain tumor being attracted to the likes of Sebastian Blair.
I mean, my brothers aren’t wrong. I could start listing reasons that getting involved with Sebastian are bad and stupid and potentially harmful and not finish until tomorrow morning.
But there’s no choice, as far as spending time with him. I don’t have to fall in love or forget who I’m dealing with, but the kind of fire simmering in my veins … wouldn’t it be some kind of cri
me against lust and youth and being dumb and carefree to not at least enjoy the consequences of my actions? My penance for choosing to trust Logan Walters is pretending to date Sebastian, but maybe it doesn’t have to be all chains and gruel.
The Kappa house is quiet. Weekends mean late nights and more than a few sisters deciding not to sleep at home for one reason or another, but Blair’s upstairs. She’s been napping late in the evening so she can keep me up half the night talking to Sam about his matches, what the weather’s like in Dubai or wherever he is this week (it’s always hot in Dubai?), so I’m hoping by staying out here she’ll be too occupied to ask me about my evening.
No such luck.
Blair’s awake, her nose buried in the latest Dennis Lehane novel, when I tiptoe over the threshold to our room. Her eyes find me over the edge of off-white pages and narrow at whatever she sees on my face. She drops her book to the side.
“You didn’t save your place.”
“It’s okay. I’ve read all the Kenzie and Gennaro books three times. I’ll find it again.” She sits up, crossing her legs. “What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?” I toss my coat onto the back of my desk chair and disappear into the closet, partially to change into comfortable clothes and partially to hide from Blair’s perceptive gaze.
She waits until I emerge, clad in cotton shorts and last year’s charity soccer tournament tank top. “I mean, why do you look like a cat that swallowed a fat rat?”
“That is disgusting.” The mirror over the sink reveals what she means—my cheeks are too pink and a disturbing sparkle gleams in my green eyes. Which, to be fair, look something like a cat’s. “Nothing. I just had a surprisingly nice evening, that’s all.”
She snorts, the sound audible over the running water that cools my face as it washes tonight’s makeup down the drain. When I’m bare-faced and ready for bed she raises an eyebrow. “You had a nice evening. At a party with Sebastian Blair, a sociopath who is forcing you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the duration.”
I shrug, sliding my cold legs under the covers and snuggling in for the night. Outside, my mind raced and whirled and I would have sworn sleep would be far off. Now that I’m clean and comfortable the high of my adrenaline tumbles into a low that tugs down my eyelids.
“I guess you never really know a person,” Blair murmurs, still appraising me.
“Are you talking about me or him?”
“I’m not really sure. Both?” Her lips spread into a smile. “Although no one will argue that he’s not attractive. It’s just that usually he opens his mouth and makes you forget all about sex appeal.”
My face gets hot again at the thought of what Sebastian opening his mouth did to me. It definitely didn’t dampen his sex appeal. Quite the opposite.
“Why are you blushing?”
I sigh, knowing there’s no point in holding out on her. She’ll badger me until Sam calls and then keep going after they hang up. She’s Blair Paddington—she might even resort to some form of torture.
“We sort of kissed.”
“What?” My roommate scoots to the edge of her bed, bare toes brushing the old wooden floor.
A sweet rush of something thickens my blood. It takes me a moment to identify it as power, and when I do, the floating, euphoric feeling it gives surprises me at least as much as my body’s response to Sebastian’s kiss.
I’m not power hungry. I’m content on the sidelines—of my family, of our foundation, in Kappa Chi.
At least, that’s what I thought. What if I’ve only been taking the easy road? Letting my brothers and my parents and sorority sisters take care of me because I’m the baby?
“Yeah, I know. It was part of one of those stupid games people play at wedding-type events to find out who has been a couple the longest, so we played along. And it was … surprising.”
“Surprisingly good, by the looks of things.”
“I mean, the kiss was good, but I’m not sure if liking it makes me certifiable.”
“Definitely. But I’ve always thought you’ve had it a bit too together. If anyone deserves a little detour into Wrongsville, it’s you.”
The comment sobers me, banishing the remnants of my smile. “You’re forgetting about Logan. I’ve been to the roughest part of Wrongsville and I don’t want to go back there.”
“Audra. What that jackass did to you should be a fucking crime. I think it is a crime, to be honest, and if we could prove he did all of it without your knowledge I would get the best goddamn lawyer in this country to take him down and set all of his family’s money on fire, too. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The protest, the sweet, sweet words, fall around me like little promises I’m too afraid to touch. They’re fragile, and although I believe them, without the proof they don’t mean much in the long run. But they’re there if I need to look at them, and Blair knows that. It’s why she keeps sending more of them my way.
“Maybe not. But I put myself in the situation. That’s what they’ll say.”
“By what, dating?” She shakes her head, dark waves rustling. “I’m not saying you should sleep with Sebastian, but I am saying that if you decide you want to, it doesn’t give him the right to exploit you.”
Sleep with Sebastian. Is that what I’m considering?
Even I’m not sure what’s rattling around my daft brain right now.
“Thanks, B.”
She gives me a soft smile, very un-Blair of her, which is how she tells me we’re really friends. She lets me see the real B, and I tell her my secrets.
“You’re welcome. And for the record, I do think you’re off your nut.”
A bubble of laughter flies out of me undeterred and Blair rolls her eyes. Her phone rings and she snatches it up, a smile on her face that could power the lights on the football stadium. It’s Sam, which means I’m free to drift away to dreamland.
My phone dings with an email notification and I make the always bad decision of checking it before turning out the light. It’s from Gabby, the president of Kappa Chi, and the contents deal me yet another thing to think about tonight.
Audra—
Elections are coming up for next year’s exec board and I think you’d be a perfect successor for me. I know you’re only going to be a junior but it’s not unheard of and you’re my choice. Let me know what you think.
I’m not sure what being the president of a sorority entails, not really, but it’s bound to be a shit ton of paperwork, if nothing else. That’s doesn’t bother me. Hard work and I are well acquainted—I’ve been toiling away for my parents’ charitable foundation since I turned sixteen. What’s harder to wrap my mind around is that out of the 120 girls Gabby has to choose from, she sees something in me.
A nip of excitement presses on my chest. I like the idea of having responsibility for other people. Of being the one people look to for advice and direction instead of the other way around, and I think I’m well liked enough to maybe pull it off.
That self-assured thought makes me snort and I flick off my phone, pulling my heavy quilt up around my ears. People might like me, but that doesn’t mean they trust me. I’m young and not even American. Surely there are girls better suited to the job.
I close my eyes, forcing Sebastian’s face and the ever-looming horror show that is my Logan Walters debacle both to the back of my mind. The specter of running for Kappa office tries to linger but eventually gives in to banishment as well. There are enough challenges on my plate at the moment.
Chapter Eight
Audra
The inside of the gymnasium that houses Whitman’s swimming pool is as humid and sticky as ever. Even with my thick hair pulled back in a ponytail and stripped down to the tank top under my hoodie, sweat pops out on my nose and forehead, making me itch. Ruby perches beside me, still glued to the proceedings even though Cole’s just a mentor now that he’s graduated. The sight of her perky face and sleek blonde hair reminds me of the first time
we met, right here in these bleachers.
She hadn’t known then how meeting my brother would change her life. She’d been sure he was all wrong for her, but through his undeniable (and annoying) amount of patience Cole won her over. I love my brother and a year ago would have said no one was good enough for him.
I would never say that now, and watching him and Ruby struggle for their happily-ever-after had changed my opinion on the whole good-enough idea. People don’t have to be good enough for someone else. They have to be good enough to believe they are, and want to prove it.
Good enough is a myth.
Sebastian sits on my other side, staring at the boys in their Speedos racing from one end of the pool to the other, disinterest evident in his expression and the uncharacteristic slouch of his shoulders. It’s been two weeks since our first appearance at the baseball party and another since that kiss downtown, but even though getting out together again was his idea, Sebastian isn’t putting on a very convincing show.
I nudge him with my elbow, fighting the desire to lecture my heart when it stutter-steps under his smooth gaze. “You could at least act like you’re having a good time.”
He hears me even though I keep my voice low. Having a spat overheard won’t go far toward helping our fledging relationship gain traction.
“You’re the one who thought this would be a good place to make another public appearance,” he murmurs back with the hint of a smile. “I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.”
“It’s a race. That’s pretty much all you need to know about swimming.”
“And you enjoy this?” His thick eyebrows knit together, giving the impression that he’s trying hard to understand this whole ritual of supporting Whitman sports.
Or me.
“Well, it started off being all about supporting my brothers, but the whole thing sort of grew on me. Except the humid environment.”
“Mmm.” He turns his gaze back toward the frothy water. “But your brothers no longer compete.”
“Yes, I’m actually aware of that fact,” I reply, as dryly as I dare. “You said we should go out again where people would see us. This is the biggest event on campus today, plus Cole is coaching now. I’m sorry if you’re bored.”
