“A purpose greater than myself!” I doubt he remembers his mother speaking those words before her death.
“Goddamn it, Ella!” He hits his fist against the table, making my body jump. “Risking your life to gain some greater purpose! You don’t have to take risks with Jasper’s internship! It is a gift to simply take!”
“It isn’t a gift. It is a give and take. I take, but what am I giving up in return?”
He looks at me wildly, like I am the most ignorant person on the planet, and shakes his head in disgust. “Please tell me you are smarter than the choice you are about to make, Ella Marie.”
Standing at the doorway, holding my breath, emotions, and tears on the cusp of overflowing, I think about what the smarter choice would be and I know in my heart I’m right.
“I am. I’m not taking the fucking internship. Goodbye.”
I storm through the living room, and as I pass the kitchen I see Jilly coming toward me. Her embrace is one someone would give if they were afraid of never seeing the other again. “I love you, Ella.”
“Love you too, Jilly.”
Nat picks up her bag and mine and opens the front door, then walks to her car talking over her shoulder. “Another glorious family dinner! Look, I have somewhere to be, so let’s go!”
Following after her, I glance back at Mom standing with her arms folded across her chest and Jilly wiping tears from her eyes as I get into the car. As soon as the car door is shut, Nat pulls away from the curb without hesitation. Speeding from the house, she starts her rant.
“Unbelievable. Well, I guess this turned to shit after all. Turning down an internship to volunteer abroad? What the hell is going through your head?”
“I am not going to take a fucking internship because of Dad’s and Jasper’s fantasy of me marrying Logan!”
“He has your best interests in mind and so do I! I tried to redirect the conversation! Oh and by the way, I didn’t appreciate your patronizing look when Dad and I were discussing my job opportunity with Bristol Holdings.” Nat weaves through traffic, then enters the freeway.
“Redirect? That is fucking bullshit!”
“Mouth of a sailor,” she mumbles under her breath.
“Yeah, well it must be a family trait.”
Magnifying a sigh, she changes lanes. “Look, we both are pissed off right now.” Her eyes shift to me. “Difference of opinion. Maybe you just need to relax a little.”
I breathe out, expelling every ounce of heated anger inside. “I am relaxed.”
“Yeah, sure you are. How long has it been since you let loose?”
My eyes move to hers questioningly. “You mean like go out with friends?”
She gives me an over-exaggerated eye roll. “Yes.”
Nat puts on her blinker and exits the freeway.
“Wait, why are you exiting? My house, remember?”
Without answering, she slows down enough to turn onto Wisconsin Street. “Yeah, I remember. We will only stay for a little while.”
“What? Stay where? What the fuck, Nat! I don’t want to fucking go to your party!”
She glances between me and the restaurants, coffee shops, stores, and buildings we pass.
“We are just making a party pit stop!” She grins from ear to ear, hoping I will cave to her idea.
“Pit stop? The last thing I want to do is be at some pretentious and superficial party with a bunch of fucking unappreciative rich kids!”
Her smile fades as she turns stiff. She turns down a side street, then onto another. “You can either sit in the car, or you can be polite and come in for a quick drink. I need to show my face before driving you all the way home to your fucking shanty town.”
She pulls the car into an open spot along the curb, leans across the center console, and looks out my window past me. “This should be it.”
I don’t bother following her gaze as I fold my arms over my chest. I am not fucking getting out of this car.
She digs through her purse, turns on the interior car light, and starts applying lipstick in the rearview mirror. Pouting her lips, she smiles, closes the lipstick, and tosses it in her purse. With her hand on the door, she gives me another onceover, making sure to avoid my stare as she asks, “Are you fucking coming or not?”
“No.”
Her keys jiggle as she turns off the interior lights. “Fine, sit in the cold car.”
“Fine!” I shoot back, not letting her have the satisfaction of the last word before she tosses the keys onto my lap and shuts the doors. Crossing in front of the car, she walks toward the lit entrance of an apartment building. Looking out my window now, I see how massive it is. She is about to open the glass entrance doors when a suited man opens it for her instead.
A doorman? I have been to a few college parties, but definitely not to one in a hoity toity luxury apartment building equipped with a fucking doorman. Even though I want nothing to do with this shit right now, I can’t help being curious about what my sister is walking into.
“Shit.”
Getting out of the car, I tap the alarm and put the keys in my jacket pocket as I follow after her. The doorman sees me coming and opens the door, not without giving me a onceover. In comparison to my sister’s dress and heels, I am underdressed in jeans, sweater, and peacoat.
“Nat, wait!” I step into the elevator just as it’s closing.
She looks at me sideways and grins. “Sitting your ass in a cold car doesn’t appeal to you?”
“A doorman? Really? What kind of party is this?”
She is texting on her smartphone, smiling as she gets a ping back. “Not sure, a friend of a friend invited me. This place is pretty amazing though, right?”
Would it be wrong to say when my sister gets this excited, it is either because she plans to befriend or sleep with the person in question?
“So you are crashing the party?”
She furrows her brow at me, then goes back to texting. “No, it doesn’t work that way, El. God, I swear it is like you have lived under a fucking rock since writing off being a socialite.”
I lean back against the elevator as it rises.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she says dolefully, but it lacks luster as she continues texting.
The elevator doors open and Nat puts her phone into her purse as she steps out into the hallway. Exiting after her, I hear the low, pumping bass of a party reverberating off the walls. There are only five doors total on this floor. With all the bells and whistles and a doorman, these are probably suites. Nat is not far ahead of me as she looks at the suite numbers, passing one door after another until she comes to the one at the end of the hall. “It must be this one.”
What kind of college kid would live in a place like this? Has to be Mommy and Daddy’s place, borrowed for the evening. Nat looks down at her phone, texting as she stands in front of the door as I slowly approach. Suddenly the door opens, releasing the sound of the music and party into the hallway as a drawn-out, annoying “Hi” spews from her long-time friend, Serena Atwood. Her shrilling vocals are almost as annoying as fingernails scratching a chalkboard.
Nat and Serena hug and rock back and forth together as my sister mimics the annoying “hi.”
“This is like the best party ever,” Serena says, releasing Nat and looking me over. “Ella? Is that you?”
“Hi, Serena.” I haven’t seen her since high school. Serena glances at Nat, then back at me, scanning my attire. “I didn’t recognize you.”
Nat takes her hand, leaving Serena to take mine and pull me into the apartment.
Thinking Serena knows more about this party than my sister, I ask, “Hey, whose party is this?”
Serena releases my hand as Nat stops pulling us along. “It is some Sheikh or prince’s party.”
“What?” I don’t think I heard her right. “A prince? What would a fucking prince be doing here at GU?”
Nat hands Serena a green glowing drink, then she passes it to me, giggling, “Many roya
ls have passed through the doors of Georgetown, Ella. He is some Lawrence of Arabia or something.”
I take a sip of the green liquid and feel the heat instantly as it slides down my throat, taking my breath away. Clearing my throat, I spot someone I wasn’t expecting to see: Logan Bristol.
I turn away to avoid him just as Nat catches him in her sights. “There you are!”
Shit, she knew he would be here. What a bitch.
“I’m going to find somewhere to sit.” I start to walk away, when she pulls me back to her side and talks through her toothy grin. “Don’t be rude.”
I look at him and, God help me, he still is gorgeous, maybe even more chiseled than he was in high school.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says as he keeps his eyes on me while hugging Nat. She eagerly obliges, hugging him back, a little too eagerly in my opinion.
As a new song begins, Serena and the people around us start bouncing around as a guy comes up behind her and sweeps her into the crowd, dancing and laughing.
“Hey, Ellie.” Logan’s deep baritone voice is just as I remembered as he calls me by the nickname he coined when we were eight years old. His voice is smooth and disarming enough to make me lighten up.
“Hey.”
With one arm draped over his shoulder, Nat’s eyes widen as she tilts her head toward Logan. Shit, what the hell does she want me to do? Jump him?
She nudges him. “How long has it been since you two have spoken? All you have to say to each other is hey?”
I had seen him on campus a handful of times over the three years I’ve been GU, but it is a big fucking campus and it isn’t like the law school is on my radar for frequented places. Logan has kept up with Natalie obviously.
He looks at Nat then smiles at me. “Too long, right, Ellie?”
Without warning he puts his arms around my waist and lifts me up like he used. Nearly spilling my drink down his back, I have the sense to hold it away from us until he brings me back down to earth. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel my stomach tense like it used to. You know, the type of angsty, sex-starved tension you get when a guy touches you a certain way. And yes, I was sex starved. It had been months since I had a meaningless one-night stand.
Logan isn’t quick to let go as he focuses on me, but I manage to slip out of his hold. “Uh, yeah. It has,” I say as I shift on my feet nervously, my eyes moving everywhere but at him. I force another gulp of the sour green stuff in my cup, letting the burn it provides numb the coiling tension his heavy stare is producing. Damn him for being so good-looking.
His smile is more than casual as he continues to stare at me. “Wow, you look just as beautiful.”
I nod and bob my head, pretending to ignore him and enjoy the thumping bass of the music. “Thanks.”
“So, I guess you heard about the internship,” Logan says smoothly as he puts his own cup to his lips.
Talk about putting a fucking damper on things. Of course he wants to talk about it! Dad, Jasper, Nat Logan, all of them are in on it; it’s a conspiracy.
“Uh, maybe we should talk about this later, Logan,” Nat suggests, nervously glancing back at me.
He takes in what she is saying, then tries to save face in typical Logan fucking Bristol fashion. “Oh, yeah, sure. Maybe over dinner this week. Sound good, Ellie?”
Avoiding his question and his hard stare, I slowly drain the liquid from my cup. It burns all the way down, aching at the pit of my stomach. Scenarios of my sister, Dad, Jasper, and Logan Bristol meeting to devise this plan to put me in arm’s reach of Logan again run rampant in my head, as my sister interlaces her arm with Logan’s. I wouldn’t put it passed Natalie to make a play on Logan, knowing how disinterested I am in him and the internship now. Yeah, it’s cold and callous, but so is Nat.
“I’m not taking the internship. I have other plans this summer.”
Logan gives me a glare I remember all too well. The type of glare one gives when they don’t get what they want. The kind of look Logan would give me when I would turn down sex with him. The kind of look a kid would have if he had his candy stolen from him.
I blurt out senselessly, “I’m not candy.”
He steps to me, coming so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “Excuse me? Candy?” His condescending tone is something I hated back in high school and I hate it even more now.
Still having her arm draped in his, Nat leans in close to him as she looks at me. “Logan, leave it alone. This isn’t the time or place.”
“I want to leave, Nat. Now!”
As I walk away, she calls to me, “Wait, just give me a minute!”
I look back long enough to glare at her. “Fine.”
Their argument is voluminous, but is quickly enveloped in the rhythmic music as I flop down on the cushion of a nearby sofa. I run my hand over the soft material. Velvet? Almost immediately the seat cushion next to me shifts, followed by the annoying, sing-song “Hi” only Serena can achieve.
“Ooooh, is this velvet?” she asks, touching the cushions beneath her ass, and laughs. “Of course it is. He is the fucking prince of Persia.”
I put my elbow on the arm of the sofa and rest my temple on my hand, watching her pet the fabric next to her. Laughing at her antics would be nice if I wasn’t so pissed right now. She does manage to get my mind off of Logan and Nat as I screw with her. “I thought you said he was Lawrence of Arabia?”
She giggles, “Arabia, Persia, whatever. He’s a fucking prince!”
I survey the room searching for Nat and Logan, but I have lost them now.
“Have you seen him?” she asks as I continue to my search for them.
“Who?”
“The prince, crazy!” She elbows me, then snorts.
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “No, you?”
Why am I even entertaining this stupid conversation? I want to leave and my sister and ex have disappeared. Together.
She continues talking and I halfway listen to her until she says, “He is here somewhere. His brother just flew in like yesterday with a bunch of bodyguards. Correction, hot body guards and hot brother. How do you think he knows all these people?”
The music suddenly shifts to something more chill, and as I inspect the room, I notice the mix of people around me: college girls in high-end cocktail dress, most definitely bought on Mommy and Daddy’s Amex, reaching to the ceiling with their drinks held high, no care in the world. She said the prince was Persian or Arabian. I notice the cultural mix in the room; some white, mostly Middle Eastern. All elite, of course.
“He probably doesn’t.”
I feel her look at me. “What?”
“Status,” I huff the words out through bated breath. “High society. It isn’t who you know, it is who you are seen with. Who people think you know.”
Serena sits back with me now more casually. I notice her scanning the crowd like I was moments before. Her voice changes, becoming less uppity and careless. “Yeah, you are probably right. Status means everything to everyone.”
She doesn’t appear happy with the statement she has just made.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
Shrugging, she continues to watch the crowd. “It is what it is. If you want to be something in this life, status has a lot to do with it. Like it or not.”
Even though I have always considered Serena to be some airy elitist twit, she has given me a glimpse of what she really thinks and I feel sad for her all of a sudden. I was her once.
“It doesn’t have to be. Don’t you want to have a purpose deeper than this?”
She doesn’t say or do anything to signal she is listening. Like a polar shift, she rolls her eyes and smiles as she rises from the sofa, turning to me quickly. “Not tonight!” Airy elitist twit Serena has resurfaced, hiding what she really thinks. She tugs on my hands, trying to get me off the couch. “Not tonight. Tonight is for dancing!”
Feeling the contents of my stomach lurch as she pulls me halfway off the couch, I fall back a
nd shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Her smile fails a little.
My stomach would hate me. Plus, I’m waiting for Nat. “I need to get home.”
Her smile lessens even more and she puts on this pouty face suited for the fake Serena. “Party pooper.”
She slowly releases my hands, holding my gaze for only a moment more before she turns and bounces off onto the dance floor disappearing into the moving bodies.
Would my fate have been much like hers if I had never pulled back from this shit? Would I be one of these girls in the sea of over-indulgence, dancing without a care in the world?
I don’t want to be here anymore. I start searching between the gaps of swaying people for Nat when I’m drawn to the sofa on the other side of the loft. This guy is loosening his tie, pulling it from his neck and tossing it to the other side of the sofa. I can tell he is as done with this party as I am. Everything about him has me curious as to why this attractive guy would not be having a good time. Everything about him also has me entranced—the black suit with the loosened white-collared shirt beneath, exposing just enough of his exotic, tanned chest. The way his long, muscular arms stretch along the back of the sofa as he casually sits back and surveys the room.
I haven’t come into his sights yet, so I greedily stare for as long as I can before he looks my way. His dark, thick hair hangs over his brow in the front, while it’s nice and tight on the sides and back. He isn’t trendy, but classic. My eyes blur and I blink a few times, wondering if he is just a hallucination from the alcohol. Nope, I am buzzed but he is still there, perfectly stationed on the sofa, giving me an eyeful of his beauty as he scans the crowd. Who is he looking for?
As I watch him, I rest my elbow on the arm of the sofa, propping up my heavy head. The contrast of his bronze chest against his stark-white shirt holds my attention far too long. I make my way up, following the angle of his strong jaw, his full lips; they beg for the most attention, rightfully so. It isn’t until I meet his penetrating gaze, I realize I have been caught.
I divert my eyes and pretend to rub the back of my neck with the hand propping up my buzzing head.
Cross the Stars (Crossing Stars #1) Page 4
