Chapter 7
?
Yeah, so, um, I’m not a reverse harem girlie…
Maelin
“Do you ever think about revenge, Maelin?” Zakery asks me, which is an odd way to interrupt my ramble.
Except, maybe, it isn’t, considering my ramble centered on how disgusting Harry is for wanting to include me—in a fursuit—in his harem of who knows how many women by this point.
Yeah.
Okay.
I’m seeing where bringing up revenge is an entirely fitting interjection.
Honestly, I’m proud of myself for not bringing up Harry’s post for an entire five days. It’s officially Friday. My last “work” day (if sitting around in someone’s room, chatting, and playing on my phone counts as “work”). Heck, I even fell asleep yesterday. Woke up to the smell of food and Zakery holding a plate of carbonara beneath my nose.
In a single week, Morana has told me four separate times that working here hardly feels like work. Sure, she’s scrubbing and cleaning and helping make meals with either Kaleb or Viktor, usually, but she’s also wandering the lavish gardens, taking breaks in front of wide screens, and contemplating taking Kaleb up on using the Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool, complete with a lazy river, and several hot tubs.
This isn’t just lavish living.
We’re getting paid to enjoy the amenities while we hang out and have homemade lunches with a whole bunch of super- amazing, super-kind celebrities.
“Maelin?”
And…one of those celebrities just asked me a question, didn’t he? I close my eyes. “Sorry. Revenge, right? I got lost in my head.”
“You do that often.”
“Yeah, Mora says it’s why I’m always running into things. But, really, I’m pretty sure that’s just my depth perception… I did a test, once. Saw if I could navigate my house better with my eyes closed… I could.”
“You’ve only tripped on the step in here twice.”
“And up the stairs the other three days…” I pout.
“That….is fair.” He smiles, so kindly. Too kindly for his next words to be: “So…revenge. Ever think about it?”
I sigh. “No, Zakery. I don’t think about revenge.”
“Oh.” He spins in his chair, which he does, often, either because he’s thinking, or because he’s frustrated, or maybe just because he likes it. Zakery moves a lot. The constant restlessness is endearing now that I’m more comfortable around him. There’s a youthful innocence to him that doesn’t quite match the things he says. Things like: “Would you like to?”
“Would I…like to think about revenge?”
“Yes. Revenge against all those who have ever scorned you, wronged you, or belittled your grandness.”
My grandness , huh? “Um. I don’t think anyone other than Harry has really…offended me that badly?”
“Well, revenge against just Harry, then.”
Revenge against Harry.
What an idea.
It’s the kind of idea that makes it hard for me to breathe, so I fiddle with the tips of my hair, watching how they catch the pale light softly gleaming all around me through the sheer white fabric over the windows. “Please don’t think I’m stupid, but I still kind of care about Harry… I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. He was horrible, and self-centered, and I don’t know what to make of our relationship or why I tolerated so much, but I still wanted to spend my life with him. It’s just…complicated. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Gracious, Maelin. I would never suggest hurting someone.”
“Oh.”
Well.
Considering hurting Harry was my first thought in the way of enacting revenge, maybe I am actually more pro stab Harry than I entirely want to be. What was it I just said? Oh yeah. It’s complicated .
“What were you thinking?” I ask.
“In July, there’s a Creator’s Ball not entirely too far from here. I’ve been invited. Kyran, Lukas, and Viktor have also been invited. I have on good authority that Lukas has worked attending the ball into his tour schedule, that good authority being Crisis, Viktor’s fiancée, who helped plan Lukas’s tour schedule. That means four of us will be going. If I ask him to, Kyran will make Kaleb his plus one, which means five of us will be going. Do you know who’s also been invited and who would be stupid not to attend?”
Battling a sinking sensation, I say, “Who?”
“MoonWoof. Am I correct in assuming that she’s the person you described as an ASMR fetish, or am I overly hopeful that there are spare few people in this world who fit such a description?”
Soft, I say, “No…that’s…her.”
“I figured. Kyran knows her. She mentioned the invite to him. He mentioned it to me. So. What do you say?”
“What do I say about what, exactly?”
“Want to show up to the Creator’s Ball surrounded by five men with truly excellent genetics and say a swift oh, hi, I’ve moved on to Harry?”
I stare at Zakery, who keeps on spinning. “What makes you think I want Harry to assume I’m involved with five men?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Harry can assume whatever he likes as long as it makes him feel stupid and small and insignificant. You can state clearly that you’re with me and my family, and we’re all your loving pack . If that information makes him go ballistic, we can have security drag him away. In front of a dozen or more reporters who will be covering the event.” Zakery smiles. “Closure accomplished.”
I’m not sure Zakery knows what closure is.
It’s sweet, though, in a way, that he’s offering to call his entire family to arms on my account after they’ve all barely known me for a week.
Sweet, and a little demented. Which I believe is how I’d describe Zakery if ever I were prompted to do so. I say, “I’m not sure I’d fit in at a fancy ball for celebrities.”
“I’ll pay for any materials you need in order to create suitable attire.” He chuckles as he stops twirling. “Sans fur, unless you are actually into that, then I’d also like a fursuit. Make it match yours but in blue. We can look like cotton candy together.”
I giggle. “Um. No. As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think I want to get chased through a ball.” Making a gown though…at someone else’s expense…that’s something I’m very interested in. I could afford to make the dress of my dreams.
No.
No, I can’t. I shouldn’t.
That’s a silly reason to oblige this scheme.
Besides. “What would you get out of this?”
“Well…” he practically purrs, “…I’d very much like to take our arrangement outside my bedroom.”
“What does that mean?”
“In preparation for taking you to the ball, I’d like to take you around town. On dates. Get to know you. Be able to pull off a believable relationship come July… Have the opportunity to draw you in public.” His smile seems ever so convincingly kind. “There’s only so much inspiration I can obtain from you in this setting. I’m constructing an entire world around your likeness, Maelin. A true princess cannot be confined to a single daybed.”
Early Disney princesses may beg to differ. I may beg to differ. I’ve just gotten comfortable on my daybed. Now he wants me in other settings? While getting to know me ? So that we can fake a believable relationship at a ball ?
Mom had a rule about no dating until high school, where I immediately fell headfirst in love with Harry. I’ve only ever been with him. He was my first crush, my first hand hold, my first kiss.
Maybe that’s part of why losing him is so earth shattering. He was the only guy I ever invested anything in. And now all the dreams I built on the foundation of him have crumbled into nothingness.
Pretending to be in a relationship with someone else, at least learning I have the ability to experience closeness with someone who isn’t Harry, might not be the worst way to help me toward actual closure, not just a twisted sort of justice.
Although…if I’m being honest…I’m not as opposed to justice as I should be, not with Harry’s post about wanting a harem still simmering beneath the surface of my thoughts. Clearly, if I’m ranting about it five days after seeing it, it bothers me. A lot.
I’m not delusional enough to believe someone as self-centered as him will ever understand what he lost , but I think I’d like to believe I am someone whose existence matters enough to be considered a loss.
I twiddle. “You know I’m sensitive to the light and can’t be in the sun for any length of time. That won’t be a problem with where you want to draw me in public?”
“Nope.”
Okay then.
Wait.
“Um.” I chew my lip. “This fake relationship you’re proposing. It…won’t include PDA, right?”
“Not unless we want it to. For the record, I’ve never been in a relationship before. Only Kaleb has. Well, Kaleb and now Viktor, who’s engaged to Crisis; I believe I’ve mentioned her. She’s not been by for lunch this week, which is probably for the best. All things considered, the two of you should not be in the same room together.” He chuckles, rustles his waves, and smiles with venom. “Even Lukas is all bark, no bite. Notoriously afraid of intimacy, us, so you can rest assured I’m not interested in imposing anything on you that you aren’t comfortable with.”
I suppose I’ve never realized the stark absence of romantic relationships in the Bachelor brothers’ headlines. Their accomplishments do a great deal in stealing the spotlight, so I’ve never noticed that there’s never been a who’s-with-who update on their love lives.
It isn’t just because no one in Sunset is allowed to sell stories about them. It’s because their “love lives” don’t exist.
“Maybe,” I say, “we can both overcome some of our emotional baggage, together?”
The ire in his smile fades as something very near wonder softens his chilling eyes. Pulling his gaze back to his tablet, he scoots his chair in. “I’d…like that.” His throat clears. “Very much.”
I smile as he pours his attention into sketching. “Well then, Zakery, it would be my explicit honor to fake date you.”
“For revenge. And glory,” he says, refusing to look up off his tablet as he smiles.
Or, you know. For healing. And closure.
And only a teeny-tiny, little bit of justice.