Chapter 10
10
I glare at Layla standing in the doorway of my bathroom. She smiles sheepishly, trying to apologize with her eyes, but I know Axel is here because she invited him. He stands behind her, Gwen at his side, and grins at me over Layla’s head.
“Hey, guys,” I say to Axel and Gwen. “I’ll be ready in a minute.” Gwen nods, going over to the couch and sitting down. She pulls out her phone, thumbs swiping over the surface immediately.
“No problem. Mind if I steal a water?” I shake my head at Axel, and he walks off to the kitchen to go hunt one down.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Layla says, walking into the bathroom and standing next to me facing the mirror while I brush mascara over my lashes. I glare at her again before switching to the other side. “I know you were supposed to be getting him out of your head, but he asked what I was up to tonight and I knew he’d bug Gwen next if I didn’t tell him. He probably won’t even stick with us once we get there. He’s just bored since Bentley’s hanging out with Mira tonight.”
I grunt, finishing my makeup and fluffing my hair a bit. “It’s fine, Lay.” I pull the edge of my crop top down a bit and do one last check in the mirror. It’s a party, but I mostly want to be comfortable, so I paired the white crop top with a pair of frayed jean shorts and topped the whole thing off with an oversized turquoise cardigan. Dressing it up with some silver necklaces and makeup, I left my natural curls down around my shoulders.
“You look hot.” Layla stands beside me in an off the shoulder long sleeve grey shirt that zips up the middle with a silver hoop adorning the black zipper at the center of her chest. It’s tucked into high waisted black leather pants, and she wears a cute pair of open toed sandals on her feet. Her brassy red hair swings behind her head in a high ponytail, long brown shadow roots slicked back, so that it provides a colorful accent to her look.
“I was going for comfortably cute but thank you.” I follow her out of the bathroom, walking over to the shoe rack by the door and pulling a pair of black suede ankle boots on. Gwen stands from the couch, eyes still on her phone screen and Axel comes over to the door, chugging a water.
“Ready?” I ask, opening the door and setting the lock as everyone nods and head out into the hall. I walk to the elevator, following Gwen and side by side with Layla. I feel Axel’s eyes on me and glance back, catching his smirk at being caught staring at my ass.
Layla hooks her arm in mine as we get off the elevator, heading through the lobby and out onto the dark sidewalk.
“How far is the walk?” I ask.
“Not long. About ten minutes,” Gwen says, looking back at us. “We’ll probably hear the music once we get off campus since it’s just down the road.” We walk down the side of Ring Road, heading toward the tree shrouded section that splits the campus between academic buildings and the shiny sports complex and fields. Most of them are empty most days, but I’ve seen the lacrosse team practicing from the window in my room a few times.
We turn left, walking through an open iron gate and off campus onto a street lined with nice looking houses. The cool air makes me wrap my cardigan around my midsection.
“Layla said you’re obsessed with the guys living at this house,” I say, and watch Gwen whip around and glare at her sister, who shrugs. Axel snorts from behind us. “What’s the deal with them?”
“I’m not obsessed with them,” Gwen says, falling back to walk in line with Layla and me. She takes a minute to continue, an owl hooting in the distance. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Layla rolls her eyes at me. “Curious about what?” I ask. Gwen frowns, glancing between her sister and me.
“Gwen thinks they’re part of the mafia,” Axel says from behind us.
“No,” she yells, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. “I think a couple of them might be part of the Bratva.” Shock must register on my face because she continues. “The Russian mafia. There are some articles online about how Smith’s parents and sister died that seem weird and his cousin is never alone, always seen with either Smith or this other burly man who doesn’t ever speak a word, just stands next to him or in the back of his classes when Smith isn’t around.”
“She thinks she can write an expose about them in the school paper and not get her head chopped off in the middle of the night,” Layla says.
Gwen rolls her eyes. “Of course, I can’t do that, but the journalist side of me is curious. Don’t you think it’s weird that there might be two mafia princes going to the Coast?” Layla’s words from the other day about everyone at the Coast having parents in every echelon of the world’s elite drift through my mind. “I want to know what happens in that house. And how are the other three guys involved?”
“There’s no story there, sis. You should probably give it up. You’ve already pissed them off enough,” Axel says, and I look back at him, finding him shaking his head. The thump of a baseline invades the silence around us as we continue down the road.
“They caught you snooping?” I ask, looking back at Gwen.
“No.” She bites her lip. “I sort of wrote an article about Tanner Hill our freshman year that blew up more than I thought it would.” She starts wringing her hands.
“She eviscerated him. It was his first year playing for the hockey team and she basically ridiculed the school for letting him on the team.” Layla looks around me at Gwen, daring her to disagree.
“It wasn’t that bad,” she says quietly, cheeks heating. “I didn’t think it would get published. I was a freshman just starting out on the paper. I figured another article would get chosen and was just using the assignment as an outlet.”
“She’s on the Ravens’ shit list now, hence the need for backup when entering their lair.” Layla giggles, pointing at me and Axel.
Gwen crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me. “Well, hopefully coming with the birthday girl’s roommate will win me some brownie points,” she says, chewing her lip again.
I furrow my brows. “Wait, it’s Mira’s birthday? And this party is for her?” My stomach drops, panic blooming in the empty space and making my blood race.
We turn down a gravel driveway, the opening tucked between two rows of tall cypress plants that hide the house behind them from view. The wall reminds me of a softer version of the brick one we have in Georgia, and I wonder if the residents feel as trapped inside as I did. The music suddenly sounds much louder as we walk toward the three-story black and grey Victorian house. A large, covered porch wraps around the right side of the house, a circular turret sitting above it at the second and third floors. Multi-colored lights flash through the open windows of the bottom floor and shine out the glass beveled door, lighting the porch up as well. Cars line the circular driveway, a red truck the largest and parked closest to the door.
“You didn’t know?” Gwen asks as we get closer to the house.
I swallow to try to soothe my now dry throat. “We don’t really talk much.” Gwen’s forehead worries and Layla squeezes my shoulder. “I should have known,” I whisper.
“It’ll be fine,” Layla says, letting go of my shoulder to walk up the porch steps. They creak under our feet, but the noise is almost completely drowned out by the loud music now pouring out the open areas of the house.
A large staircase welcomes us as we walk into the house, people mingling on the sides of it and spilling into the open living room to the left of the front door. The dark wood stairs are the only piece that matches the Victorian facade outside. Everything else is light and modern, cream walls framed by dark wood accent borders and an open floor plan where the kitchen can be seen beyond the living room. Another room opens on our right, decorated in green with a large bay window looking out on the driveway. It’s filled with people leaning against the walls and on furniture facing the two folding tables in the center where people play beer pong, someone yelling as they miss one of the three cups left on the other side.
“Axel!” a girl yells from the beer pong room, waving at him from the couch on the other side of the room. Her friend looks over, eyes lighting up when they see him.
Axel waves back, an easy smile on his face. He puts his hand on my back as he slides out from behind us, heading toward the girls and I watch, something spikey and hard rattling around in my chest.
“Let’s find Mira and wish her a happy birthday,” Gwen shouts over the music, pulling on Layla’s hand. Layla grabs mine and we shoulder our way through people, heading into the living room area opposite the room Axel just went into. My eyes immediately find Bentley, standing next to a curvy girl sitting on the arm of a leather couch. The girl throws her head back and laughs as Bentley pouts down at Mira sitting in an oversized armchair on the other side of him. A petite girl in all black giggles on the couch beside the curvy one and I recognize her from my Algebra class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Gwen sees them and starts dragging us over, tapping Mira on the shoulder once we’re close enough. Mira turns around, smiling when she sees her then looking back at Layla who surveys the room and me. I fidget, ashamed I didn’t know this was her birthday party.
“Hey, great party! And happy birthday! Figured I'd stop by. I’ve never been to one of the guy’s parties,” Gwen rambles and Mira nods, murmuring thank you. She looks over at Layla whose eyes track over the group before stopping on her.
“Leave her alone, Gwenivere,” a large, white-haired guy says, walking up from seemingly nowhere and standing behind the couch that the girl from Algebra and her friend sit on. He’s our age, with a barrel chest and tree trunk waist. His snow-white hair falls to his shoulders, the top half held back in a small bun at the back of his head. Stubble lines the edge of his sharp jawline, dark despite his fair hair. His eyes flash in the moving strobe lights that seem pitch black with his brows pulled over them but lighten to an icy blue when the light hits his face.
Gwen steps back toward us, and Layla whispers, “Tanner,” under her breath to me.
Mira leans back to look up at him, and loses her balance, tipping toward the floor. Bentley flinches toward her, but the girl from my Algebra class beats him to it, grabbing her arm and holding her up for a second before she sits back up, facing the three of us. Gwen puts her hands on Mira’s shoulders as she sways a bit, keeping her steady.
“You need water,” she says, helping Mira up off the chair and toward the kitchen. We all follow, Bentley ending up beside me in the space between the cabinets and kitchen island. He watches Mira, eyes not even glancing my way while Gwen pours water into a solo cup. I lean on the island and away from him, folding my arms to avoid the urge to touch his next to me. Gwen hands Mira the water, looking over at Layla and avoiding the glare Tanner is trying to drill through her head.
“This is my sister Layla.” Gwen grabs Layla’s arm, pulling her closer while she frowns. Bentley folds his arms over his chest next to me.
“Mira,” she yells. “Nice to meet you.”
“Okay,” Tanner cuts in, crowding in closer to Gwen and clenching his fists at his sides. “She got her water. Time to go, Gwenivere.”
Mira side-steps between them, leaning back against Tanner. “It’s okay, Tan. She’s not bothering me.”
He looks down at her, raising one eyebrow. “Don’t let Ramsey see you get any more drunk.” He walks away after that, not even sparing a glance at Gwen who practically shakes with nerves. We all watch Mira take a few more gulps of water, leaning against the island for support.
Noticing all our eyes on her, she glances over at the two girls from the couch, who now stand off to the side behind her where Tanner just left from. “This is Autumn and Aria,” she says to Gwen, pointing to the curvy girl before reminding me of the girl from Algebra’s name. “They’re freshman on the third floor at West Tower.” Gwen turns toward them, immediately starting a conversation about how they’re liking their RA Keith.
I glance over at Bentley, whose eyes are still firmly fixed on Mira before deciding to keep my eyes solely on Gwen to stop myself from doing so again.
“Nicely done,” Layla whispers to Mira. “She’s a bloodhound.” Mira looks confused so Layla leans in. “Hard to distract when she’s got the scent.” She smirks, and Mira smiles. I feel a pang of guilt, happy that Layla is good at meeting new people, but sad that I don’t have the same talent.
“You go to the Coast?” Mira asks. Bentley shifts his weight beside me and I step closer to Layla to stop myself from noticing his every move.
Layla nods. “Liberal arts for right now. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do, and dear old dad didn’t want me just lazing around the house while my brother and sister got degrees.” She shrugs. “At least now I have J here to keep me company.” She sneers over at me, and I flip her off.
Bentley steps forward and knocks his shoulder against mine, jostling me. “Ease up, Little Miss Sunshine. Try having fun.”
The jab stings, reminding me of our first encounter in the dorm. I glare up at him. “I’m fun.”
Mira snorts and even Layla snickers a bit. I turn my glare onto her.
She shrugs, only half attempting to stop smiling. “Come on, J. You haven’t even had a drink since we got here.”
I attempt to stave off my outrage, but the sting lingers. I give in, looking around the kitchen for something alcoholic. Unfolding my arms, I reach out across Bentley to grab a half empty bottle of expensive looking vodka. Looking at Bentley, who raises an eyebrow, then Layla and Mira, I uncap the bottle, take a long drag, and force myself to swallow against the burn in my throat. My face screws up once I finish, my tastebuds protesting the aftertaste. “Fun enough for you?” I ask, sneering at Bentley.
He laughs, moving between the group and toward the fridge. I glance around again, grabbing a solo cup from the plastic wrapped stack sitting on the counter. Pouring two or three shots into the glass, I feel a jolt of heat when Bentley’s hand covers mine, taking the cup from me.
“Why don’t we try mixing it with something?” he says, pouring orange juice in over the vodka. I cap the bottle, setting it back on the counter before taking the drink from his hand and staring him down over the rim of the cup while I drink a huge gulp. He smirks, watching me. The sweetness of the juice masks the burn of the alcohol and I hold my composure this time.
Lay chuckles, grabbing her own cup and pushing it toward Bentley who pours in half the amount of vodka I did and then covers it with juice as well. Layla takes it, sipping slower than I did as well.
“I need to pee,” Mira says. “I’ll be back.”
Bentley nods, leaning back against the counter. “I’ll be here. You’re not back in ten, I’m coming to look for you.”
Mira nods, wandering off into the crowd of people around us.
I drink more of my screwdriver, warmth sliding down my throat and nestling in my belly. It loosens my limbs and I feel myself relaxing. Layla winks at me, glancing at Bentley before turning to join Gwen, Autumn, and Aria in their conversation. I grit my teeth, thinking of ways to get her back for this later as I pour the rest of the drink down my throat. Slamming the cup on the counter, I pull the alcohol over and prepare another vodka heavy screwdriver.
“Whoa, slugger. Slow down,” Bentley says, reaching over and taking the vodka bottle from my hand after I fill almost half the solo cup with it.
“Thought you wanted me to have fun?” I reach past him for the orange juice, pouring it into my cup.
“You just need to loosen up, not blackout tonight.” He turns around, putting the vodka away in the top of a tall cabinet.
I glare up at him when he turns back. “I’m not going to blackout.”
“Janette!” Layla calls, my eyes flitting over to her excited face. “It’s your song!” I pause, tuning into the music pulsing around us and realizing I recognize the song. Layla and I made a dance routine to the throwback when we were twelve, posting it to YouTube before our moms found out and made us take it down. “Come on!” She reaches past Bentley, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away as he smiles down at me in passing.
We end up in the living room with Autumn and Aria, Gwen disappearing on the way over to the group of people dancing between the couches. I laugh, shaking my hips to the beat as Layla bobs her head and mimics some of the moves we made up over six years ago. She grabs my hand, twirling me under her arm and I tuck my other arm in, protecting my drink as I let her. The room spins around me, but Bentley’s face sticks out, having moved to the area between the kitchen and living room to watch us. He leans against a support beam, eyes burning as he watches me.
I turn away, taking another swig from my cup and downing half of it in one go. Time to put on a show.