Chapter 11 Melbourne
MELBOURNE
SAGE
Standing in the lobby, Priya’s wearing the sweater I gave her for her birthday.
There’s a shiver of grief in my chest as my body has the impulse to do what I’d normally do: make dinosaur noises while running up and hopping on her, piggyback.
Then we’d hug and she’d laugh and scold, and I’d drop some inside-joke quote from one of our favorite sketch comedy shows like That Mitchell and Webb Look and she’d automatically fire back her part of the exchange.
But she’s got her arm looped through Julian’s, and they’re looking out the big front window and talking, turned away. My posture stiffens. I take Alexander’s arm and yank him closer before Pri and Jules see us.
Something tender is in Alexander’s expression, looking down at me.
I can’t help wondering what he’s thinking any time he lets that cool upper-class mask slip.
He’s usually like someone who has an opinion about polo ponies, but occasionally something very real is there, and it sends an achy thump through my chest that’s not entirely unpleasant.
I’m annoyed by him, yeah; the guy’s an arrogant prick.
But I’m also kind of fascinated. He keeps surprising me.
I’m not sure if it’s just the obvious physical attraction or if there’s more, an X factor that isn’t typically mixed into my “lust cocktail.” A dash of enigma, a sprinkle of exciting aggression, a pinch of relatability.
Maybe I’m the narcissist. Does he remind me of myself?
Nah. It’s just hormones. If I was going to catch feelings for anyone, it wouldn’t be Alexander Laskaris.
I peek up at him again.
Alexander’s face is handsome, but it’s also interesting.
For one thing, he has freckles, which I’m sure he hates, but I can reluctantly admit (at least to myself) that they’re adorable.
The other thing he probably sees as some hideous flaw is the scar across his right eyebrow.
It cuts it into one-third/two-thirds segments and is angled like a backslash.
I wanna ask him how he got it, but he’d probably make up some bullshit.
Ugh, okay… stop gawking. What’s wrong with me?
As we walk up to Pri and Jules, I greet them with, “Well well well, if it isn’t—”
I’m about to throw out one of my usual mocking nicknames for my brother like Dildo McFuckup or Useless von Loserton, but when he turns around, his face is beat to hell and the snark evaporates on my tongue.
I jerk to a stop and my arm in Alexander’s goes rigid.
He slides a hand over mine in a quick caress of support.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I ask Jules.
The chagrined look he gives me is lopsided from the damage. His left eye is swelled almost shut, there are cuts and scrapes on his left cheek, and his lower lip is split badly enough that there are stitches poking out like little whiskers.
Priya glares at Alexander, then me. “Can we not do this here? And with that guy sitting in?” Her voice drops. “Didn’t you read my texts?” she whisper-yells.
I fish the phone from my pocket and turn it on, and three messages come though.
Priya: NO! not downstairs. we shd come up to the room or u come here. julian looks rough
Priya: ffs is ur phone turned off ???
Priya: this is not the time to be stubborn. your brother needs u
Jules slips an arm around Priya and this is when I notice that his right hand is in a partial cast, two fingers encased in plaster that rings his wrist to stabilize it.
“Hey, sis,” he says to me. His jaw is stiff from injury, and his wreckage of a face frames a pair of melancholy green eyes, one of which has a bloodshot firework burst at the outside corner.
I scan the lobby, checking if any fans or journalists have caught sight of us. My heart is pounding hard and my throat is tight. “Hi, yourself. Meet me upstairs, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, I pivot and stride toward the elevators, towing Alexander by the hand.
An old couple tries to board with us and I ask them, “Hey, could you guys wait for the next one? We’re gonna have sex in here.”
They’re shocked silent, taking a step back as I drag Alexander aboard. His reflexive laughter dies away as the doors close and he takes a thorough look at me. He plants his feet in a solid, tree-trunk-like stance before me and cups my face. “Salvi, pet…”
I have to pretend my teary eyes are purely from anger, because no way am I admitting I’m sad and scared for that fuckwit brother of mine—not mere minutes after I gave Alexander a whole song and dance about how Julian shouldn’t receive sympathy or friendship from anyone.
“I’m fine.” I push his hands away. “Just annoyed that now I’m gonna look like a bitch if I don’t feel sorry for the fuckin’ prodigal son.”
Alexander retreats, leaning against the opposite wall. For a minute, an awkward silence reigns. “I suspect it’s more than that,” he remarks in a tone of studied casualness.
“Stay in your lane, Sandy,” I fire back. “Christ on a fish stick, you’re the least qualified therapist on the planet.”
My nose is prickling again with the threat of tears, and I feign a sneeze to hide it, giving myself an excuse to sniffle. I straighten and rub my face. The elevator opens at our floor, and Alexander holds out an arm, waving me through.
As I pass into the hallway, he says, “It’s a good thing you refuse to fake orgasms, because you’d be terrible at it. That was the worst phony sneeze I’ve ever witnessed.”
Back in the suite, Alexander heads for the little bar/kitchenette area, instinctively giving me space.
“Mind if I make tea?” he asks. “Do you want any, or a coffee?”
I cram the askew sofa cushions back into place and pluck some clothes off the floor, tossing them through the bedroom door. “Nah, I’m good.”
My suite is more wrecked than usual due to Priya’s absence.
She keeps things in order, because she knows what to touch and what to leave alone.
I generally don’t allow housekeeping into my room midstay because they’ve been known to take souvenirs, and that creeps me out even if it’s nothing valuable, like used makeup sponges.
I hear the mini-fridge open. “Only oat milk? Ah, sod it,” Alexander mutters. With a sigh he sits on one of the sofas. “Are you certain you want me to stay? I was going to quietly take my leave, but you were holding my hand with the ferocity of a tornado victim.”
I can’t help a weak laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”
“I can go,” he assures me, pointing toward the door. “This is obviously a family matter.”
“Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know.” I pace toward the window, then back. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but… like, if you stay, you’ll keep it under your hat, right?”
“The soul of discretion.” His brow crumples and he fusses with one cuff of his shirt. “I’d like to prove that I can be a good friend to you, if you’ll allow it.”
I feel the sting of tears fogging my eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a little moved by his words or just scared and frustrated about Jules. Probably all of the above. My legs tense to turn away, but I make myself stand firm, watching him until he meets my stare.
“Okay, but here’s the deal, Sandy: If you’re messing with me, I won’t forgive you, and my payback won’t be harmless practical jokes. You don’t want to be my enemy—believe me.”
He looks so dumbstruck by my possibly-out-of-left-field hostility that I feel kind of bad. He gets up and crosses to where I am. His hands go to my shoulders; then he seems to reconsider touching me and instead adjusts the stretched-out neck of my T-shirt so it covers my bra strap.
“Few would call me a serious person,” he says, “but I couldn’t be more in earnest when I vow that I will never hurt you. To be honest, I’d fuckin’ dismantle anyone else who dared to do so. I’m… growing quite fond of you, Salvi.”
In the tense silence that follows the declaration, I hear voices in the hall, then a knock.
I take a step back, murmuring, “Uh, here they are.”
“Of course.” He steps back too.
Was I sort of wishing he’d hug me?
My face heats up and I turn away and stride to the door, opening it for Pri and Jules, waving them in.
As I walk behind them, I can tell from Julian’s posture that he’s really hurting, and it freaks me out because this is a guy who I’ve seen take falls that’d wreck other people and just laugh it off.
Priya’s holding his non-broken hand. That cramp of sorrow grips me again, and it makes me feel selfish but I can’t help it.
Jules always wins at being the most likeable, the most coddled by my parents.
Now I guess he wins the “most broken” title with Pri too.
I need her, and I’ve been nothing but a total bitch for days, and… this is the result.
Jesus, no wonder I need a fucking hug.
I glance at Alexander, who’s taken a spot on the love seat. He gives me an encouraging smile and pats the cushion next to himself and for a second I feel better.
Julian lowers onto the couch, wincing. Priya hovers over him like a mother hen, waiting for him to get situated before she joins him. Another dart of jealousy jabs my chest.
If I don’t fix this, I’m going to lose her.
Even before Pri’s PA status was official and paid by Emerald, she’s been with me.
For over two years now, since I got the reserve driver gig with Harrier.
She’s been my mother hen—keeping track of the schedule; reminding me when and what to eat; nagging me about sleep and vitamins; picking up after my messy, careless ass; reading and bottom-lining my emails; covering for me when I do something stupid.
The “gap year” she took from grad school turned into a much longer hiatus when she opted to stay with me and be my right-hand gal.
I can go back to university anytime, she assured me. But I can hardly let you travel all over the world alone, can I?