Chapter 8
8
A s many things that differ here in England, parties aren’t one. Okay, sure, the number of people drinking flat beer is higher here than in America. More high-roller cocktails and fewer jello shots. But the atmosphere is the same as the ones Jaqueline and I attended in High School.
But.
This is Oxford . Most of the people here are ten times smarter than my entire high school class combined, and we never held parties in the wing of a massive medieval stone building with a view of a river. A couple drinking wine is arguing in slurred tones over whether Tolkien was true British Literature or genre Fiction trash.
God, I love this place.
“Look, a Pimm’s bar!” Li says the moment we pile out of the tiny stairwell. She’s gone by the time Dominic squeezes through the door behind me.
“It’s the Sophomore common room,” Dominic tells me, looking around. Large sofas line the walls, and a pair of doors stand open at one end with a big balcony overlooking a quadrangle. I peek out the door and see a massive stone stair leading down to the quad. Cool air sweeps over us with a refreshing smell of grass and water from the open doorway.
“So these are all finance people?” We’re in Merton College, one I haven’t visited before. I pull my green coat around me as we wade into the room, not wanting to get a drink spilled on it.
“I guess. Not all of them.” He lifts a hand in greeting to someone across the room.
We watch Li flit from group to group, sipping on a beverage, in no hurry to return to us. “Does her drink have…cocktail fruit in it?” I ask the room at large. No one hears me, and no one seems to think her drink is odd. Brits. I shrug and shake my head.
“I’m glad you came to the party,” Dominic says near my ear. Tingles run down my neck and settle in my toes. There are worse things than Li abandoning us at this party.
“Me too.”
Finally, Dominic and I will get to talk. I study his profile and when he turns to me, I smile instead of looking away. The throb of a rock song starting fills the already cacophonous room.
Okay, or not so much talking.
“I’ll go get us some drinks, yeah?” Dominic practically has to yell now.
“Yes, please,” I say with a smile. “And then let’s go outside!”
He gives me a wave and is gone into the crowd.
I press myself back against the wall, just observing. I love it here. Everything about Oxford. The myriad of accents and languages I hear around me. The way the air smells. The quad outside, and beyond that the night-lit spires of the medieval town. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolls. This whole place just oozes culture. It’s everything I missed from my boring American upbringing.
And then… there’s a set of shoulders I recognize. And it’s not Dominic’s sweet, wide shoulders under his wool coat. These shoulders are angular, reminding me of a shark. Cut in a dark suit. Shoulders I left not an hour ago in a ballroom, and pretty much wish never to see again.
Fucking Kendall.
He’s here.
Of course he’s here. He’s my demon version of Roy Kent. He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where.
“Go away,” I growl as he approaches, set to menace me against yet another wall. It’s his favorite pastime now. Life was better back when he ignored me.
“Relax. I brought you a drink.” He says, holding up his other hand like he’s surrendering.
It’s one of those weird fruit cocktail drinks. I reach out and study it, looking at the pink liquid and the canned fruit. It looks potentially disgusting, but worth trying as a cultural experience. And then my mind catches up to who handed me this particular beverage. I squint at Kendall. “I don’t take drinks from people.” I hand it back to him.
There’s something in his eyes that glitters, and I don’t like it. It’s gone a moment later. “Isn’t your boyfriend getting you a drink?”
“Dominic isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my neighbor. And him I trust to get me a drink. We’re here with?—”
“Li, yeah, I know. She’s in one of my finance classes. Small world.” He holds the drink up, examining it. “Look, if you don’t want my peace offering, fine. It’s not like I poisoned it.” He takes a small sip, lips just pressed to the rim.
I hold out my hand. “Fine.”
The drink is both fruity and dry. Like champagne, lemonade, and the syrup from the fruit. It’s…surprisingly good. So good, I polish off the drink in short order. It wasn’t a big glass to begin with, and I’m left with icy cocktail fruit.
Kendall stands in awkward silence while I finish the cup. What a creeper. He literally doesn’t know how to be human around me. I glance around, hoping to see Dominic returning so that I can make my excuses, but now I don’t see anyone I know.
“Um, okay. Peace offering accepted.” I hold out the cup.
Kendall coughs and clears his throat. “So how do you like Oxford?”
“We don’t have to do small talk,” I assure him. “I drank the drink. Thank you very much. I need to go find my friends.” Kendall is just one big wild card. He runs hot or cold, you get nothing in the middle.
I crane my neck around, still finding neither Li nor Dominic. The alcohol in the drink hits my blood stream, and a pleasant buzzing begins in my brain. I need to find some food and water. Stat. I have way too much studying to do to have a hangover.
The heat in the room seems to suddenly seep into me and I peel my coat off, tossing it over my arm.
“What should we do instead of small talk, then?” When I turn my gaze back to Kendall, the look in his eyes takes my breath away. To say his gaze is predatory is an understatement. This man looks like he could set fire to me if he wanted. We’re hitting the hot part after our brief detour through coldsville.
“Do you ever tire of giving yourself whiplash?” I surprise myself, but God, it feels good to call it out instead of ignoring his behavior.
He blinks.
“I know you, Kendall Saint James. And all your acts. All the masks.” I wave a finger in a circle, encompassing his face. The drink must have been deceptively strong, because I feel a blessed lack of inhibition as I reach out a finger and poke him hard in the chest. “You can’t fool me. I know everything .”
Okay, I’m making that last part up, but it sounds good. Threatening. I like the momentary feeling of power that surges through me. He spent years being an absolute dick to me. He doesn’t get to come here into my tiny wonderful corner of Oxford and pretend we’re friends.
As his eyes follow the path of my finger to his chest, a muscle twitches in his jaw.
My heart rate jumps in response. Maybe it’s fear. I’m literally poking the bear. He’s unhinged enough to be dangerous. Men that bottle up feelings rarely explode in neat, safe little ways. I’m half-expecting him to tell me not to touch him, to yell at me or threaten me. To shove my hand away in explosive anger.
Instead, he lays his hand carefully over mine, smoothing it flat against his chest.
He looks up at the ceiling as if he’s praying. Like he’s doing something he shouldn’t, and needs the strength to stop. And he is breaking the rules, right? Our little agreement of oil and water not mixing. I’m confused about Kendall’s actions with my hand, and I’m confused about my sudden confusion. Am I really that drunk? My thoughts swim then clear for a moment. Right. I should not be flattered by the attention of a man who thinks I am beneath him. Especially with this little charade of not being able to help himself. Please. What an absolute asshole.
I try to yank my hand away.
His gaze finds mine again, and the room’s heat multiplies tenfold yet again. Sounds gets louder and somehow narrow as well. I shouldn’t be able to hear what he says over the roar of the conversation and the music, but my ears have developed selective Kendall hearing.
“I remember…everything…too. I never said I’m sorry for doing what I did.” His voice is low. He bends his head near my ear. And it’s everything I can do to shove away visions of his lips meeting mine. Would it be different, now that we’re grown up? I wonder if he’d taste the same, like dark cherry candy and minty gum.
Well shit . This is taking a serious turn. I don’t want to discuss this. Not now. Not here. We had years to talk about it . The time to address it was when he left me in that closet and crucified my reputation. When he’d called me a frigid bitch. When he blew my world apart with a kiss, only to ignore me for four years. His words had obliterated my odds of getting a boyfriend in High School. He’d seemed to take pleasure in the fact that no one would date me after he dubbed me unfit for touching. He’d made my life literal teenage hell. The time for making amends has passed.
“I’m leaving,” I announce, yanking my hand away. I put it to my head as the movement causes the room sway. Then, because I can’t help it, I smooth my hair to the side of my neck, allowing the cold breeze to kiss my skin. The sensation is amazing . Why has no one ever told me that the night air will feel like a lover’s caress if you just have a Pimm’s cup?
“I’ll come with you,” Kendall says, melting into the crowd behind me.
“No. I’m going to find my friends. Sorry,” I say as I trip over someone’s feet. These Brits either hold their alcohol to a completely different level, or I’m a confirmed lightweight.
Li and Dominic have vanished. What the actual hell? Maybe Dominic thought I said I’d meet him outside, and thinks that I ditched him . I make my way—none too gracefully—toward the open door.
“You left your coat,” Kendall calls.
I turn and yank it from his hands, suddenly angry with him. The years of angst have chosen this moment to boil over. Inopportune, maybe, but I let it happen, suddenly believing in the idea of cathartic purging. “Leave me alone, Kendall, just like you did for years. Go menace someone else. I believe Clara is over there. Why don’t you go fuck with her head some more?”
“At least let me walk you out. Until you find your friends.” I see genuine concern in his eyes as I list to the left despite my efforts to stand up straight. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
Shit, that makes sense. I’m feeling my drink way more than I’d like. I’m not blacking out, so it’s not like someone drugged me or something, but I still don’t trust Kendall and his sudden act of kindness. But. He’s the only person here that I know . And I’m drunk . I should accept the help.
I hiccup. “Okay fine. But only until we find Dominic.”
“Whatever you say.” It should bother me that there’s a flash of triumph on his face, I know it should. Even as I allow him to usher me toward the door, I can’t shake the feeling that beneath the surface of this kinder version of Kendall, the shark still lurks.