Stay Toxic

Chapter 14

Stranger: So, any luck with that social media?

With everything going on today, I didn’t get a chance to check my messages until now.

Me: Yep! You can now find me at greeneyedpervert.

He’s quick to reply.

Stranger: I get the green eyes. Good to know about the other part.

Me: I let my bestie pick the name.

Stranger: And she called you a pervert?

Me: I mean, not really? A guy I know calls me a pervert. She hijacked it.

Stranger: Sounds like there’s a story there.

I hesitate, before starting to type. I can’t get too much into it, given that Aurelius knows who I am. But he’s been pretty good at advice so far, hasn’t he?

Me: Ugh I’m so irritated and I have to vent to someone so you’re it, I guess. The guy who’s kinda dating roommate is…flirty?

Me: It’s awkward, really.

Stranger: Why would it be awkward? Tons of people flirt.

Me: Because…I don’t know, it makes me feel bad for her.

Stranger: Ah. You fancy him.

Me: I didn’t say that.

Me: I mean, he’s cute, but I don’t do taken guys.

Me: I’m not that kind of person.

Stranger: You know what, can we circle back to your second letter? I’d like you to shoot me rather than hearing this.

Me: Nope. You’re stuck with me now. I know you’re a nice guy.

Stranger: Ugh, fine. Emasculate me completely, why don’t you. You might as well tell me about your boy problems. Was the issue the fact that he’s kinda dating the roommate, or is he terrible at flirting? I’m lost. Also, how does one kinda date?

Me: You’re really letting me vent about this? I think I love you.

Me: Okay, so he’s definitely fucking my roommate regularly, and they’re intimate in public sometimes, like touching or whatever. If I didn’t know that she’s fucking other people, I’d assume they were dating. And I *love* her. We get along. She was my first friend here and she introduced me to all my friends. I don’t want to fuck that up because of her kinda boyfriend.

Me: Except they are seeing other people so maybe she won’t mind? I don’t know.

Stranger: Please please please shoot me? It would be a mercy killing really.

Me: You know, you actually make me think of him. You’re both snarky asses.

Stranger: All right. I’m gonna state the obvious here, but why don’t you just ask what’s going on?

Me: Ask who? What?

Stranger: Him, her, someone. Ask if they’re dating, or fucking, or whatever. They’ll tell you if you’re encroaching on taken territory. Which, to be fair, seems unlikely. To me, it sounds like they’re just your typical fuck buddies.

Me: Yeah well, maybe I don’t want to be in the middle of fuck buddies either.

Stranger: Who said you would be? Sounds to me like you’re running away before you could find out, little coward.

I start to type I’m not a— but I stop myself halfway through, really analyzing my behavior.

My stranger-mentor might have a point. I didn’t ask Ari about their relationship. I don’t want to find out.

Because I suspect the answer is no. And if it is, then I guess there’s no reason why he can’t flirt with me. No reason why I can’t act on my desire to find out what his lips feel like.

Ugh. I totally am a coward, aren’t I?

The question is why?

Thankfully, I’m saved from answering, because Ari comes back from the bathroom, gorgeous in her red gown.

“I can’t wear this,” I repeat, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “It’s just too…”

I can’t find my words.

I’m wearing one of Ari’s two dresses; the blue one. The other one would make me look like an actual hooker. It’s really fine on Ari, who’s tiny and dainty, with small, toned curves, but with my softer padding it would have been a different story.

This one isn’t obscene as such, but I’ve never worn anything this revealing in all my life. I turn and look over my shoulder, which is completely bare, like my entire back, down to my tailbone. The full mesh skirt reaches my mid-thighs. Most girls wouldn’t think about it twice, but I’ve never worn anything shorter than knee-length.

How sad is that?

“Too hot?” Ari finishes. “I agree. You’re so sexy it should be illegal.”

I roll my eyes. She”s right, though.There”s a sort of boning worked into the velvety front of the dress, managing to support my boobs by some miracle, which is great as the backless cut leaves no room for a bra. It”s a little tight around the chest, compared to the kind of fit I usually wear, and there”s no hiding my curves in this. Conservative as it is compared to her red little number, I”ve never worn anything so revealing and grown-up and sexy.

Mother would hate this.

Somehow, that makes me smile.

“Love the new clothes, by the way. You should tell me where you got those jeans.” She gets started on stripping her wardrobe of my new purchases, holding up the pair of blue-gray jeans I just got this afternoon.

“Oh, that. Just some discount store in town. They were ridiculously affordable.”

I bought one pair of jeans and a few tops; nothing extravagant, but my mother wouldn’t have approved of them either, though I”m guessing the dress would be far worse for her blood pressure.

“Then you definitely have to take me there. Affordable is necessary.”

I frown, glancing back to her dress, and looking down at mine. Both look like they were found at designer stores.

As if reading my mind, Ari says, ”I didn”t buy those. Well, not with my own money, anyway.”

”Ah. Sebastian?” I guess, trying not to grit my teeth.

I hate the idea of him taking her shopping, which is ridiculous. He”s hers, not mine; of course he”d buy her pretty dresses to go to galas thrown by his mother.

Barf.

No, not barf. God, there’s something seriously wrong with me.

”Gosh, no,” she laughs, not elaborating. ”You want me to put your hair up? It”ll look nice with that back.”

“Oh, yes please,” I say, not questioning her skill, given the amazing things she did to my skin with a makeup brush tonight, and back at the ballet.

Ari’s clearly learned a fair deal from her mother.

I don”t tend to do much with my mess of blonde waves, either tying it in a bun half the time, or just leaving it down.

Her fingers are soft on my skull as she runs them through the length of curls. She knows better than to try to brush through it. ”All right, I know what to do!”

As she prepares an army of pins to bring her vision to life, I say, ”Thank you, you know. For covering for me about the clothes.”

“Of course. You looked like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar for some reason, so I figured shopping was a no-no.” She tilts her head. “Can I ask why? I mean it”s not like it was tons of lingerie and dildos.”

I sigh, trying to find the words to explain Senator Cole without getting too much into the gory details.

The fact that I think of her as Senator Cole or Mother rather than Mom or however else other people refer to their parent says a lot.

“Mother’s a politician, and she likes to project a certain image. Said image extends to what I do.” I grimace.

“Ah. Yeah, I know a few people with that problem in town.”

From what I know of Thorn Falls, I’m not surprised. “Not you, huh?”

“Oh, I had a completely different set of problems. Mom’s not much of an authority figure, but I have so many daddy issues.”

“Wanna chat about it?” I offer eagerly, happy to chat about someone else’s issues for once.

“Nothing much to say. Mom got knocked up early, they tried to make a go of it and split up by the time I was three; likely because my little brother was born about four months after that and let’s just say he does not look like Daddy.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles. “Vince is blond with blue eyes, like Mom. Dad’s Indian.”

Ben did tell me each of his siblings—except the twins—had different fathers, and thinking about it, it does make sense, just looking at the three I know: Ari’s golden coloring, Ben’s Italian looks, Lawrence’s boy-next-door, all-American appeal. It also explains her cousin the receptionist with the award-winning sneer.

Their mother must have amazing genes though, because there is a resemblance between the siblings despite the differences in coloring; the nose, the mouth, the shape of the eyes, and the endless lashes. I bet she’s a knockout.

“At least, it sounds like she fessed up before the birth?” I glean.

“Oh yeah. I don’t think she cheated, anyway,” Ari says, and I suddenly think back to our first meeting, and I flush.

Two men, one in each end. I wonder what kind of agreement she has with Sebastian. And then I remind myself I don’t care. It’s their business and nothing to do with me at all.

Maybe sharing the love is a family thing.

“They still get along—always have from what I remember—so there’s no animosity there,” Ari says.

“They probably had an understanding?” I guess.

That’s the perfect opening to ask her about her deal.

I clear my throat. “So why the daddy issues then?”

“Because he got married when I was ten, and had kids—a boy, then a girl. You know, his real family, actually living with him and shit?” She grimaces. “I don’t see him much these days. There. How do you like this?”

She turns her rotating chair so I face her vanity’s mirror, and I blink in wonder.

I honestly haven’t ever had hair as perfect as this without spending two hours at a salon for a charity function or someone’s wedding. Ari truly could have been a hairdresser like her mom if she’d chosen that, given her skills.

“You’re incredible. Thank you. For all this. You’re sure you don’t mind me wearing your spare dress?”

She squeezes my shoulder. “Of course not. I’m just glad I brought two.”

There’s a knock on the door, and I immediately tense. A glance at the clock shows it’s six fifty-five.

Ari’s quick to chide her date. “What sort of a man arrives early to pick up two girls for a gala?”

“You look ready to—” Sebastian doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes finding me across the room.

I flush, shifting uncomfortably, and fussing with nonexistent lint on the tulle.

Fuck me sideways, that’s just not fair. The way that man fills his tux is criminal. He shouldn’t have thighs this strong, shoulders this broad, and the tailor in charge didn’t have to cut the fabric so perfectly.

“Are those for us?” Ari asks, unbothered.

She’s clearly used to hanging on the arm of the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.

She grabs the two black boxes in his hand with an excited squeal.

Sebastian clears his throat. “Yeah. Yours is the bigger one.”

“You know me so well,” she flirts, opening it.

She gasps, lifting diamond earrings to eye level.

Sebastian saunters to me—there’s no other way to describe the way he moves in the damnable gray tux, smooth and predatory. His jacket’s open over a waistcoat. The black shirt he wears underneath looks like it feels ever so soft. I’m dying to run my hands through the fabric. Just to check if it’s as silky as it looks. Not to check the muscles underneath.

“For you.” He hands me the other box. “Auntie M insisted.”

I blink. “Your aunt?”

Those are the only words I manage to croak, but by that I mean, how does his aunt know I exist? Let alone make him bring me things.

He nods. “Well, I had to explain to my mom why there was a last-minute addition, as well as the reason why the Raventhorn board has to address a thank-you to Ms. Cole. You donated ten thousand, by the way. Of course, Mom gossiped to her sister-in-law immediately, and here we are.”

Oh, right. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, he said words. I think they string together in some sort of an explanation. Too bad my brain isn’t quite computing all of it.

I comment on the only part of the tirade that I did understand. “I’ll write you a check.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s already paid, Hestia.”

As I haven’t made a move to grab the box, he flips the lid open, shocking me into speechlessness once again.

On a bed of velvet, there’s a platinum choker, with a deep blue sapphire pendant surrounded in tiny diamonds. It’s breathtakingly gorgeous. It’s too delicate and perfect, with the exact right shine, to be costume jewelry, but I find myself hoping that it is somehow a fake, because if it isn’t, it’s worth a bloody fortune.

“It’s only a loan,” Sebastian says. “It’s tradition for anyone accompanying a Goltz to wear something from the Goltz collection; and well, Auntie M never made the distinction between her children and her brother’s.”

Oh, a loan. Good. Great, in fact. Because he could not possibly have actually given me this.

“I…” I clear my throat. Words, Tia. “It’s…perfect. It’s really perfect.”

“Let me.”

And then he’s behind me, and his hands are touching the back of my neck.

Oh, no.