Chapter Four
ARES
“Y ou got her to eat everything. She even ate the salad with a smile on her face.” Apollo laughs. “Auntie Kyra must be made of magic.”
“Never underestimate the power of pink cupcakes.” Kyra smiles.
“Pink cupcakes!” Elena shakes her head with a strained, exaggerated smile, before jumping up.
Kyra laughs as she stands up. “Let’s help clean up first.” Kyra helps her out of the booster seat, then they carry their plates into the kitchen. Mom and Daphne are quick to join them, carrying everything into the kitchen. It’s not long before I hear the faucet running and laughter.
Apollo looks at me. “It’s funny, because Elena doesn’t even like the color pink. She only likes it when it involves Kyra.”
“That girl has always liked pink,” Arthur adds. “Growing up, she insisted everything be pink. For a while it was baby pink, then bubble gum pink.”
“Don’t forget the hot pink era,” said Apollo.
I laugh at the memory. It was right around the time Arthur and Mom announced their engagement. I was twenty-one, so she’d have been about fifteen.
“She had those hot pink streaks in her hair.” Apollo shakes his head.
“That’s right.” Arthur rubs his hand down his face. “It was the holidays, and she was in the rebellious phase. She wanted them for the winter break, but we told her no because the school didn’t allow abnormal colors.”
“Then Mom got her those clip-in extensions. Kyra had them layered all up in her hair.”
Arthur laughs. “She refused to take them out until they were falling apart.” He groans. “They were cheap, those pink strands were everywhere. It was like glitter; we were finding them two years later.”
After another moment of laughter, I excuse myself from the table. It’s been a long day and I’m ready for a shower and to hopefully sleep better tonight.
I leave the noise behind me as I ascend the staircase, the occasional step creaking beneath me. A few blue runner rugs lie across the wooden hallway between the bedrooms, theater, and gym. It minimizes the noise as I walk down to the end of the hall.
My old room doesn’t give me the comfort it once did. As a boy, I cherished summers in Saint Bipal. I would spend my days on the beach or at the club. I soaked up every bit of the break before returning to prep school or university. My parents bought this place with their friends so long ago, I hardly remember a time it wasn’t part of our summers.
When they first bought this place, there wasn’t a theater or home gym. I was ten that first summer. It was the following summer when they added the theater room. One summer after that, they’d added the home gym. Apollo had been getting into our prep school’s athletic program and was going on and on about how he couldn’t fall behind.
They all seemed in agreement since I would join some sort of sport the following year. I wasn’t into sports as much as Apollo was . I ran track and tried hockey. Ice skating was difficult though, and I gave up.
I would definitely take advantage of the home gym this week. It would give me something to stay focused on. Several of the hotels I preferred to stay at when traveling had decent fitness rooms, but this would allow me to really mix it up.
As I enter my room, I’m not hit with the comfort like when I was a kid. Sure, it’s nostalgic, but I’m hardly here. This room mostly holds some of my belongings. I’m twenty-seven, long overdue for a place of my own.
That thought gives me something to concentrate on. After a quick shower, I pull out my laptop and head out onto the deck. Double doors with large windows open out from my room to the covered deck. This was one of my favorite things about this beach house. This deck had the perfect view of the sunrise, as long as it wasn’t cloudy.
I type out an email to my assistant, Jules, to confirm what hotel I stay at the most when traveling for business and let her know my plan. I don’t expect her to get back to me tonight, it’s the weekend after all. Her response comes two minutes later, assuring me it’s Boston and that she’ll research some options this week if I let her know what I want.
The idea of having my own place is appealing. Somewhere I can call home and force myself to not live out of a suitcase for most of the year. I know my assistant asked what I want, but I’m not entirely sure. Somewhere that has amenities such as a gym and laundry would be nice. Maybe a private parking garage, so I don’t have to worry about my bike taking up space in Apollo’s garage.
I respond back to her that I’m not sure what all amenities I want. I list a few of the minimums and tell her to take the week and get back to me. If there is anything that sound promising, I’ll tour them when I get back from London the following week.
With that off my mind, I close my laptop and lean back on the couch. The older patio furniture out here has been recovered a few times, but the framework is top quality and the cushions themselves are all too comfortable. It was something Apollo, Kyra, and I all agreed on years ago. We all took turns hanging out here with our friends.
It was all perfect, before that night. As if sensing she was on my mind, I watch as Kyra’s bedroom door opens out onto the deck. I choose to remain silent, keeping to the dark to see what she does.
Kyra carries a laptop and a mug to the small table near the middle of the deck and places them both down. She sits down cross-legged in her seat and opens up her laptop.
She’s just close enough that I can see the screen. I watch as she pulls up a document with a list of what looks like random things in ancient history. What is she doing researching history?
Kyra takes a sip of her drink, then moves the cursor to scan up and down her list repeatedly. This goes on for a solid five minutes before I finally have to make my presence known.
“What are you doing?”
Kyra jumps in her seat. “Jesus!” She sighs as she places her hand on her chest. “Ares, I didn’t know anyone else was out here. Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” She moves to close her laptop.
“No,” I interrupt quickly. I walk over and sit down next to her. “What are you working on?’ My curiosity gets the better of me. I should let her leave. We need to avoid each other.
“An assignment for school. We have to write an essay and I need to turn in my topic choice by Monday.”
“It sounds like you have plenty of time.” She should just pick one.
“It’s a major part of my grade and I’ve had all semester to choose.” Kyra shakes her head. “How am I supposed to choose when there are so many possibilities? It’s for my Ancient History class, but that doesn’t exactly narrow down the ideas.”
“You’re taking an intro to ancient history class?”
She smiles softly. “I did last year. This one is even more. Everything is riding on this essay.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.” I remember my essays. If they’re well written, that is all that was required. “As long as you’re being thorough with your research and your grammar doesn’t suck.” I roll my eyes.
“Forget it.” She shakes her head.
I can see the disappointment on her face. It both delights me and it annoys me. “Why is it so important?”
“There’s this summer abroad course I’d really like to be chosen for. This essay is a major part of my grade. I turned in my application, now the rest depends on how well I can excel in this class. There are only five spots available and there are nearly one hundred applicants each summer.”
“Wait, are you a history major?” I don’t remember that ever coming up. Mom told me she was a social chair in her sorority. Knowing Kyra, I assumed she’d be studying something like sociology or business. Something basic.
“Look, it’s not your problem.” She closes her laptop and stands. “You were out here first. I’ll leave you alone. Like you said, we’ll just leave each other alone.”
My jaw clenches, and I step in her way.
“Right?” She peers up at me through thick lashes.
I hate the way she looks up at me with those light blue eyes, baby blue, nearly gray in this lighting—or lack of. The same eyes that used to beg me to let her tag along or play a game with her. At the time, I could never say no. Now?
Now, the problem is I want to both push her off this deck while I also protect her from the world. It eats at me. The spoiled princess always getting her way.
“Right.” I take a step back.
I watch as she runs a finger across her laptop before picking it up and hugging it to her chest. I should take another step back and let her walk away, but she hesitates.
“What?” I cross my arms.
She sighs and shakes her head. “Never mind, it’s not important.” Kyra moves to walk around me.
I turn and watch her. It bothers me, and I hate that it does. I don’t even know why I’m letting her get under my skin. I shouldn’t care. It’s been four years of avoiding her. Everything was fine.
She’s not mine to protect anymore. I’m not the hero in her story, I’m… this. Whatever the fuck this is. The guy who made himself stay away, who pushed her away.
A growl comes out of me as I storm over to her door and throw it open. “What’s not important?”
“Fuck, Ares! You can’t keep scaring me like that.” She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her breathing.
I sort of like seeing her scared. I want her nervous and afraid. I need her to stay away. “What’s not important?” I repeat myself.
“It’s nothing. I had a thought, since you went to the same school as I’m going to that you would know. It’s silly.” She shakes her head with a laugh. “I don’t know what I’m trying to prove.”
“Don’t be coy, it doesn’t suit you, princess.”
“It was a stupid thought I had, but I know better than to ask for your help. So, forget I said anything.” Kyra crosses her arms. “Pick a door and leave.”
“You are so irritating.” I go back out the way I came in.
“Likewise,” I hear her mutter under her breath.
Fucking. Spoiled. Princess.