Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ella
Escapism - RAYE, 070 Shake
“ C ome on, Els. Let me take you on a date.”
I down the shot Enzo just poured me, feeling the need to replace my destructive thoughts with tequila. My dad isn’t even buried and I’m at my sorority house, partying on the first big night out of the year.
I should be ashamed of myself. But I hated him, and this feels like a celebration of my freedom. It’s hard to think about Gerald Baker’s death when most of my anxiety comes from the Circle’s threat hanging over our heads.
“I don’t know.” I hiss from the burn in my throat before biting the lime he feeds me.
He pulls it away and presses his wet thumb to my lips. Licking him with the tip of my tongue, his dark gaze stays on mine even when I pull away.
But my eyes can’t help finding the man at the other end of the kitchen. Chris is with Rose and a couple of other people I don’t know .
I hate the way he laughs so politely, tapping the shoulder of the girl with them in a reassuring way when she blushes from whatever he said. I hear Rose say something rude to whoever bumped into her while walking into the kitchen, and Chris sends her a warning look.
“Rose, for the love of God, don’t get in trouble tonight.”
Christopher Murray, ever the peacemaker of their group. The appeasing figure. The reasonable one. What a load of bullshit.
“How many times are you gonna make me beg?”
My eyes come back to the man in front of me. Enzo’s family is European. Italian, to be precise. And fuck if he keeps those sexy clichés alive. I like him because he’s not from Stoneview. He didn’t go to Stoneview Prep like most of us. He’s a breath of fresh air.
“Maybe a couple more times. You just look so cute doing it.” I look up at him and place my hands on the kitchen counter behind me.
He laughs heartedly, putting a hand on my hip. “I kind of like the way you play, Ella.”
I try my best to keep my focus on this conversation…
Impossible, I’m too busy looking at the other group again. Chris is pouring a drink in everyone’s cup because he’s nice like that.
“Gentleman,” the girl giggles. “Serving yourself last. Are you ever not perfect?”
He chuckles awkwardly, probably hating the comment he receives so often. “I’m far from perfect.”
Finally, something true coming out of his mouth.
At the same time as he holds conversation with the people I don’t know, he watches for Rose from the corner of his eye. The second she asks someone for a cigarette, he grabs her by the back of the t-shirt—still nodding at what the guy is telling him, not even breaking eye-contact—and drags her back toward himself. Like a mom used to multitasking when she takes care of her wild kids, he holds her still while he finishes talking, and then turns to her.
“You told Rachel you would try to stop smoking.” I know Rachel is Rose’s fiancée. “And you asked me to not let you smoke. So what do you think you’re doing?”
With an eye roll, she takes another sip of her drink. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Rose,” he says in warning. “Don’t call me that.”
She laughs to herself, knowing exactly what she just did and how to rile him up. Being called Dad by your best friend when you’ve got a daddy kink isn’t hot to Chris. And I know first-hand what his kinks are.
“Ella.”
I startle, going back to Enzo.
“Damn, bella , what does a man have to do to keep your attention?” He looks behind him, seeing Chris. “Ah, you prefer the perfect gentlemen type of guys?”
“No,” I snort. “Please, anything but that.”
“Good. Because I’m anything but that.” An easy smile spreads on his face. “Kiss me.”
I lick my lips, enjoying the aftertaste of tequila, the remnants of salt, and the sourness of the lime. He lowers his head, and I push on my toes, but he suddenly freezes, then pulls back.
“What the?—”
“I’m so sorry,” a smooth voice apologizes. One I know too well. “I tripped.”
Chris’s solo cup now looks half-full, the other half on Enzo’s blue t-shirt. He appears truly apologetic, his handsome face the picture of innocence. But I’m not impressed, and I know what he’s doing .
“Don’t worry, man,” Enzo says. “It’s all good.” He turns back to me, but Chris puts a hand on his shoulder.
“No, let me get you a towel or something. We need to dry this.”
“I don’t ca?—”
“Ella,” he cuts him off. “You know this place. Could you give me a hand towel, please?”
I feel my jaw clenching. The fucker really has a plan, doesn’t he?
“Sure,” I mumble.
I’m forced to step away and round the gigantic island to reach the other side of the kitchen, Chris following closely.
I open a cabinet, looking up at the shelf with the hand towels. Reaching high, I try to grab one, only to realize I’m falling short. I don’t live here anymore, so I forgot how high these damn shelves were.
Chris’s body shifts, and then he’s pressed against mine, a hand on my hip and the other reaching over me.
I freeze, my hand still in the air.
“Listen to me,” he rasps in my ear. “I’m not exactly enjoying seeing you let some frat boy hit on you. I’m going to kindly ask you to be a good girl and stay away from other guys. But I’m asking kindly only once. If I have to say it again, I won’t be so nice.”
“Go to hell,” I hiss under my breath. “And stay there.”
“Seeing other men was a thing for when I was away, Sweets. I’m back now, and I don’t want to have to play mean.”
My pulse accelerates, my lower stomach tensing as he presses harder behind me.
“How does Megan feel about this? Is it a Shadow thing to have a girlfriend and still hit on your ex? ”
He chuckles. “It is actually. But it’s different for us. I’ll only be like this until my ex becomes my girlfriend again.”
I don’t like the way my heart and my body react to this, and I need to cut this shit short right now.
“I’m not yours anymore, Chris. Now step back before someone realizes you’re acting like a crazy man.”
“You’re wrong. You are mine, no matter what. The status of ex or girlfriend doesn’t change anything about that.”
He grabs the towel, steps back, and lets me turn around, but he still blocks me from walking away.
“So,” he says, like he’s about to repeat something extremely simple that I was just too thick to understand. “Stay away from other guys. It’s not so hard, is it?”
“How about you stay away from me, asshole.”
His eyebrows rise as a small smile tips the corner of his mouth. “Stay away from you? Don’t be silly, Ella. That’s a ridiculous concept. And watch your language. You know I hate when you curse.”
And with that, he finally turns to the side so I’m not cornered anymore.
Fuming, I stride back to Enzo, plant my hands on his cheeks, and kiss him with enough force it makes him stumble.
How’s that for staying away from other guys?
My eyes flick to Chris the second we separate, and I don’t enjoy the knowing smile he’s wearing. Like I’m so predictable. But I do love the way I see his hand clench into a fist. He’s mad, and there’s nothing he can do about it in front of everyone .
“Why do older men love our parties? Don’t postgrads have their own? This is Xi Ep not…not…I don’t know…some place where people can just waltz in.” Peach’s words are slurred as she crashes down next to me on the sofa.
Enzo went to get us more drinks, but he must have bumped into other lacrosse players and decided to stay with them because he never came back. Instead, I’m with my two best friends.
“Did that guy just take a picture of you?” Alex gasps.
I ignore both of them, my eyes glued to Hermes’s post on my phone. It’s a picture of Chris and me in the hallway of the humanities building three days ago. It was taken exactly when he was close to me, and from an angle where you can’t see that we weren’t actually touching.
Ella Baker…do I hear wedding bells?
If you went to Stoneview Prep…you know who he is. And if you didn’t attend Stoneview Prep…what are you even doing at SFU?
Christopher Murray is back, my babes. Our beautiful, perfect mix between a classic gentleman and a sexy protector transferred to SFU!
Was it because he missed his ex? Because we all know how much she missed him. (Five years single…ouch.)
I heard Chris is someone else’s now. But does it look that way to you?
Chris & Ella, your secrets are safe with me.
Until they aren’t.
#Chris&Ellasittinginatree #FutureMrs.Murray? #Raiseyourhandifyoudon’tcareaboutMeganMcLea n
“What a fucking asshole,” I curse. This is the kind of time I’m glad Luke doesn’t go to SFU. Only the students have access to the app, and I wouldn’t want him to see this post. Only a handful of people knew Chris and I were dating in high school, but when college started, rumors grew, and I guess now it’s a known thing around here. With Luke being in LA, it never mattered, but he’s around now, and I don’t want to add anything to his plate.
If someone caught Chris and I talking in what I thought was an empty hallway, there will certainly be pictures of him cornering me in the kitchen tonight. And then who is going to look like the girl who doesn’t care that he has a girlfriend?
Peach wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, come on, Els. Forget about Hermes for one night, please. We’ll burn down their house tomorrow.”
“How?” Alex hiccups. “We don’t know who they are.”
Peach looks at both of us, hooded green eyes glinting from all the alcohol she drank. “I don’t have a plan right now, but I’m sure I’ll have one by tomorrow.” Her eyes catch someone in the crowd. “Alex,” she sing-songs. “You’re in trouble. T.R.O.U.B.L.E,” she cheers like we’re cheerleading on the lacrosse pitch. “Trouble!”
We all turn to look at Alex’s boyfriend walking toward us, as grumpy as ever, his dark eyes focused on the only woman who matters in this room.
God, I would die, go to hell, make a deal with the devil, and come back to have a man look at me that way. The only thing ever written on his face is how desperate he is to have Alex near him.
“He wasn’t supposed to be here,” Alex mumbles, then turns to me. “And Ella, that guy keeps taking pictures of us,” she insists .
Xi stops in front of our field of vision, blocking the crowd. Blocking the freshmen girls who were trying to reach us and start advertising themselves as to why they should be friends with us. The guys who were looking from afar who were counting our drinks to time exactly when to come hit on us.
But it’s hard to take Alex’s rugged boyfriend seriously while he holds a shaking bunny in one arm, his massive hand covering the animal’s large ears, as if to protect him from the loud party music.
My friend smiles beautifully at him, her eyes practically turning heart shaped. She jumps into a standing position, giggling to herself.
“Oh, baby. I missed you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbles.
Xi leans forward, his lips pursing for a kiss, but she ignores him, grabbing her pet and giving it a smooch as she scratches its fur.
Yeah…she wasn’t talking to her boyfriend.
Xi narrows his eyes at her, his jaw ticking. Alex is already turning back to us when he grabs her by the back of the neck, twists her around, and presses his lips against hers in a deep kiss that makes Peach and I exchange a wide-eyed look. Holy shit…this is not PG.
“Forget to kiss me hello one more time,” he growls. “I’m dying to teach you a lesson about that.”
She mumbles an apology, cheeks turning an unimaginable shade of red. Scratching her throat, she brings back the topic to the animal in her arms.
“Why did you bring Jean-Paul Sartre? He’s scared of the noise, Xi.”
“Cupcake,” he huffs. “I tried to call you about a hundred times. He won’t eat. And if you come back tonight and see he didn’t touch his food, you’re going to throw a tantrum. I didn’t know what to do…so I brought him here.”
Sighing, her hazel eyes soften as she speaks to her beloved bunny. “You miss your mama, don’t you?” She looks at Peach and me again. “I have to go, girls. We’ve got parenting to do.”
“Kill me.” Peach puts two fingers in her mouth, pretending to puke. “You two are my worst nightmare.”
“You’re just jealous of our beautiful family,” Xi snorts.
“I bet you shit pink now that she’s taken over your life, Xi!” Peach shouts at their retreating backs.
I burst into a laugh as they disappear in the crowd, and as I watch them, I notice it. The Christopher Murray effect. A flock of men and women surround him as he slowly sips on a drink. He’s been back for a few days and is already winning hearts like he never left. A charming smile here, a gentle tap on the shoulder there. He nods, interested when people talk to him. A genuine frown breaks his brow when someone shares a deep story. That’s how he makes everyone feel. Welcome, at ease, safe. I know what it’s like because I fell for it too. The handsome face, the caring gestures. No one knows what truly hides behind the fa?ade, and it almost makes me feel lonely.
Our eyes cross over a girl’s shoulder, and my heart swells when he smiles at me. The slightly chipped front tooth doesn’t fit his image, but it’s his imperfections that make him even more human. Relatable. Chris has a way of making someone feel exceptional. He looks at you across a room, a smile lifting his lips aimed in your direction, and suddenly everyone else disappears. He has no special talent and yet owns the gaze of an artist. Through his eyes, everyone can feel beautiful .
A flash catches my attention, snapping me from his gaze, and I finally see him. That guy taking pictures of us.
I focus my attention on him, double-checking I’m not making this up, and fury spikes through my veins as I realize his phone is quite literally pointed at my face and unmoving.
He’s filming.
“Motherfucker,” I bite out, shooting into a standing position.
Peach is being hit on by some random guy and is too drunk to notice me leaving. But the fucking paparazzi-wannabe sees me approaching and stops recording before turning around and slipping away.
I follow him through the mass of sweaty bodies dancing and drinking. I know he’s from here because he belongs in this crowd. Everyone is dressed like they were coming to some sort of Hollywood celebrities’ party tonight, but it’s just how we do things in SFU and that guy fits.
I don’t lose him, sticking a few steps behind until he reaches the backyard.
“Hey, asshole!” I call out. He continues to ignore me until he’s to the side of the house, between the Xi Ep exterior wall and the wall to the next house. It’s tight as an alley here, and he stops at the end, spinning around to face me.
“I didn’t catch anything interesting,” he says. “You can stop following me.”
“What’s your name? Were you looking for something to send to Hermes?” I take a step toward him, my high heels crunching the gravel. “Or maybe you’re Hermes, taking videos for your precious account.” Another step, and I point an accusing finger. “I swear if you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I will make your life so miserable at SFU, you’ll be a college drop-out before next week.”
I snatch his phone from him and throw it to the ground before stepping on it with my stiletto. A relief crashes over me at the destroyed screen.
“Shit, that’s totally something we can send to Hermes.” I whip around, finding another man behind me.
He’s filming me, and no doubt has been recording the whole scene. Including my threats.
Fuck.
“Queen Bee threatens innocent student to protect her reputation,” the first guy laughs, making me look at him again, nostrils flaring.
“I didn’t threaten you to protect my reputation. You had nothing on me. I defended myself because you were harassing me.”
His friend gets closer, a dark-haired guy, bigger and more imposing than the skinny, inoffensive man I followed to a dark alley.
“From what my phone saw, it looks like you were scared he was going to spill secrets and threatened to make him drop out.”
“I didn’t?—”
“It’s exactly what she did,” the skinny one insists. They’re clearly friends and had planned this whole thing.
“Are you two serious?” I spit, crossing my arms over my chest in a worthless attempt to make myself look tougher. “You think you can threaten me with some stupid video? Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re dealing with?”
The skinny guy shrugs, tilting his head to the side as they both close in on me, cornering me against the wall of the Xi Ep house .
“Looks to me like we’re dealing with a girl who’d do anything to keep her reputation intact.”
“Anything?” the other asks. “Now that sounds interesting.” He brings his hand to my cheek, tracing a finger down to my neck, my collarbone. “Can she do it quietly?”
“Fuck off.” I slap his hand away, and the other uses my gesture to grab my wrist and bring my hand to his groin. The asshole is hard.
“How about we fuck you before we fuck off?”
My heart drops to my stomach. “I guess we could film that too,” the brunet mocks. “And if you say anything, we’ll release the video to everyone.”
“Or I could film myself kicking your ass and see how the whole campus reacts instead?” The calm warning makes them both jump away from me to reveal the owner of the smooth voice. A wave of relief washes over me, making my knees buckle. I briefly close my eyes, allowing my body to accept my ex is here to make things better.
Chris stands with his hands in his pockets, but it doesn’t take an imposing stance or hostile gestures for him to look intimidating. His height does the job perfectly fine, and his gentle demeanor is often scarier than growled threats.
When both guys don’t find any excuses for their actions, standing mute and meek in front of my ex, Chris speaks for them again.
“I think you were leaving.”
They both nod, turning around to leave.
“Uh, uh,” he calls them back like two misbehaved pets. “Not without apologizing to the lady, of course.”
He taps his foot impatiently on the ground, and that’s all it takes for them to turn to me, babbling pathetic apologies. They eye Chris again, waiting for him to give them a subtle nod before they go to leave.
“One last thing.”
They freeze. Two preys playing dead as they’re about to be caught by a predator. Then they both look over their shoulders.
“Your phone,” he tells the one with dark hair.
The guy hands it to him, and Chris takes it carefully.
I’m the only one who feels something switch within him. A fury that comes right before he surprises them by throwing the phone with all his strength against the wall. The violence is disturbing, pieces of plastic, glass, and metal flying everywhere and making me jolt.
Chris turns back to them, taking one slow but purposeful step.
“Bother her again.”
It’s a strange, whispered order that makes the two friends glance at each other with wide eyes.
“Do it,” Chris insists. “Let me watch you bother her again.”
They both shake their heads, only the skinny one finding the courage to say. “W-we don’t want to.”
Chris nods, pretending to be half-impressed. “I want you to remember how you’re feeling right now. The next time you see Ella, think about that fear running through you. Whenever you’re in the same room as her, breathe the same air, whenever she crosses your mind, I want you to dig into your memory and remember this very night. And I want you to know that if she mentions either of you to me, you’ll both end up in a state where you’ll be alive and well enough to remember your mistake, but with a wish for death so great you’ll be begging your own mothers to end your lives.” He tsks. “Poor mothers. ”
He dusts off the white shirt he’s wearing, adjusts the collar, and rolls his shoulders. “Sound good?”
They both nod so many times I wonder if their heads are about to unscrew from their shoulders.
“I prefer words.”
“Yes,” they reply in unison. “Crystal clear,” the skinny one adds.
“Good. Good. I’m glad we had this discussion. You may leave.”
I’ve never seen anyone run so fast.
Chris finally turns to me, and I only now realize I’m still keeping myself flat against the wall.
“Are you okay, Sweets?”
“Don’t call me that.” It comes out as a reflex. Sweets was the stupid girl he dated. But I have to admit that my words don’t have much punch with the predicament I’m in.
I hate Chris. I really do. But I couldn’t be more grateful for his intervention tonight.
Stepping closer, he places a hand above my head on the wall and looks down at me.
As a breathy “thank you” leaves my lips from his proximity, I want to slap myself.
“You don’t have to thank me. You know I would never let anything happen to you.”
His face is close enough that I could kiss him with the slightest lift of my chin. And for a moment that isn’t brief enough to my liking, I want to. His warm body against mine is familiar, the protection he’s always cast over me is reassuring. The danger that hides within him excites me to no end.
I blink up at him, feeling a need I can barely control surging through my veins.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you? ”
I find it hard to swallow past my dry throat. “Not even in your dreams do I want to kiss you.” It’s hard to sound condescending with the electricity crackling between us, making me weak at the knees.
“You know I want a second chance, Sweets. It would be so easy to just give in.”
“And you know I’m over you. There’s nothing to give into.”
He chuckles, his forehead now practically touching mine as I crane my neck.
“It’s going to be very, very hard to resist me now that I’m back. I know all the buttons I need to press to make you melt.”
Even as my stomach swoops traitorously, I narrow my gaze at him. “Try your fucking worst.”
My knee to his crotch is the only way I find to get out of this situation without throwing myself at him.
I can’t be weak around Chris. He’ll jump on the occasion to make me his. And being his isn’t safe for me.