Chapter 21
ALLIE
Hazel eyes stare at me in absolute horror as I jump on one foot while shaking my leg out of the other side of my leggings.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
Emory reaches up to physically close her own mouth with the tip of her finger. “Who the hell are you having sex with? Damon Salvatore?”
“What?”
I look down. Oh, shit. I didn’t even think to hide the hickeys that run up my thighs, my belly, and the tops of my breasts.
I told Ashton to keep the love bites to areas that no one would see, but I failed to remember that Emory and I have been getting dressed together for years.
I didn’t even think twice before deciding to share a fitting room with her.
“Oh,” I say as I pull my pants all the way off and slip a black skater dress off the hanger. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”
Emory finishes undressing and pulls on a gray-and-white polka dot maternity dress. She looks in the mirror and tilts her head to the side, momentarily distracted enough that she doesn’t press for more information.
“I look like I’m a cake at a minimalist gender reveal.”
I come up behind her. “You don’t look like a cake.”
“Tell that to my tiers.”
“You’re beautiful,” I laugh as I look at my own reflection. This dress is so short, you can see the pink and purple marks on my thighs. I definitely can’t wear this tonight.
It’s been a month since the softball game. Needless to say, I was kicked off the team after my violent outburst. I don’t care what anyone says, that ump had something personal against me.
Ashton and I have fallen into a rhythm. After work, I go to his house or he comes to mine.
We fuck, he tries to cuddle, I humor him for long enough so he won’t accuse me of being against aftercare, we shower, we usually end up fucking again in the shower, and then we go our separate ways.
No sleepovers. No kissing. Not from his lack of trying on both fronts.
We’ve obviously kissed before, and I’m not against it in general, but kissing Ashton is different.
It feels like hope, and that’s not something I can afford to have right now.
Not when I’m trying to support two people on a salary meant for one.
Ashton called back the electric company at my insistence and removed his credit card from the account, but he said it would have been a huge hassle for them to cancel the payment that had already gone through for the month of April.
I don’t believe that for a second, but I’m too tired to fight him on it.
It means that after this month, I’m all on my own again supporting two households.
Mom never ended up getting that job at Warner’s.
“I didn’t forget, Allie.” Emory’s voice filters through my thoughts.
“Didn’t forget what?”
“What we were talking about. I know that’s what you were hoping. So what’s his name?”
“What makes you think it’s just one person?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Okay. What are their names?”
“Not happening.”
Emory huffs and takes off the dress, putting it back on the hanger. “That’s a no,” she mutters.
“Try this.” I hand her a stretchy black maxi dress with roses and cow skulls on it. She quirks a brow but takes it from me, slipping it over her head.
“Can we at least talk about the B word now?”
“Absolutely not, Em. You know the rules.”
“Ugh, you are the worst.” She tilts her head again and this time she looks satisfied. “But you are coming tonight, right?”
“I might make an appearance,” I reply, not wanting to commit to anything. Emory rolls her eyes as she tries to shove her feet into a pair of cowboy boots that are two sizes too small.
Apparently, Declan thinks he’s still in high school and is throwing a huge party at his parents’ estate while they’re in Corsica, and he’s “house sitting.” Ashton told me about it last week, and I’ve been dodging the subject ever since.
Not only does it have the potential to be awkward as fuck because no one knows we’re hooking up, but it also happens to be my birthday.
The B word. The day I spend by myself every year.
Despite Emory’s best attempts. Despite my mother’s guilt trips.
It’s the one day of the year I choose to be completely selfish.
I sit on my ass, watch cheesy rom-coms, make fun of the characters for being so blinded by love that they don’t see the millions of red flags staring them in the face, and drown the memories of another year past in a pint of mint chocolate chip.
It’s my day, and I choose to be alone. I choose not to think about the mother who had to work on every single birthday when I was little or the father who left before I even saw my first one.
I choose myself.
I still told Em I would go shopping with her. She was so excited about the party and wanted something special to wear since she’s been living in scrubs and yoga pants for the past couple of months.
“Okay, I think this is the one, but these shoes are not it,” she states as she pulls on her stretchy pants that go all the way up and over her round belly.
“The dress is perfect,” I tell her. “Let’s go get you better shoes.”
Emory freezes and narrows her eyes at me. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my snarky, grumpy best friend?”
“I’m still grumpy,” I assert.
“You just called me beautiful and perfect.”
“I said the dress is perfect.”
“Whatever. That must be some primo dick.” Oh, it is.
I snort. “Did you seriously just say primo dick?”
Emory shrugs and grabs her purse, heading out to find shoes.
I decide to buy the black skater dress after all because fuck it.
I’ll pair it with my white Converse and a denim jacket.
Stopping by Declan’s won’t completely derail my solo birthday plans.
I’ll stay a half hour, tops. After all, it’s my day. I make the rules.
It’s just after nine by the time I pull up to the Astors’ seaside mansion, and there’s already a line of cars waiting to be valeted. Because, of fucking course, he has a valet set up.
I finally pull up to the front, and a guy with a red vest opens my door.
Thankfully, it’s warm enough now that the door doesn’t stick, but the guy still looks semi-disgusted as I exit my beat-up Honda and hand him the keys.
Yeah, he’s definitely not getting a tip.
I shoot him a sweet smile as he hands me a ticket and make sure to sway my ass as I walk away. Asshole.
As I’m heading up the steps, my phone chimes for the fifteenth time tonight. Ashton has been texting me nonstop since I left the store with Emory.
Ashton: Are you coming tonight?
Ashton: I mean, obviously you’re going to be coming if I have anything to say about it, but are you going to Declan’s?
Ashton: Allie
Ashton: Alexandra
Ashton: Chaos
Ashton: Answer me.
Ashton: Maybe you won’t be coming after all…
Ashton: I can see you’re reading these. Did you forget to change back your settings?
Ashton: Fine, whatever. I’m getting drunk.
That last text was sent a few seconds ago. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was actually going to show up. I went back and forth with myself about a dozen times, but finally forced myself to get dressed and get in my car. I just couldn’t help making him squirm a little, so I didn’t respond.
I enter through the large arched front doorway and am immediately met by a woman in a bikini with a diamond choker around her neck who extends a tray full of Jell-O shots.
I take one and thank her, walking further into the house.
My best friend comes from a wealthy family, so I’m no stranger to mansions and lavish parties, but this is not like any one I’ve ever been to.
Instead of schmoozing business associates and passed hors d’oeuvres, there are flashing purple strobe lights and people snorting coke off of half-naked women.
I look to my left and there appears to be a game of strip beer pong going on.
I walk a little further in and see two men and a woman enter what looks like an office.
The woman starts taking her clothes off, while the men sit on a leather couch.
When one of them looks up and notices me.
He mouths “Want to watch?” I shake my head and take a step backward.
I’m no prude, but what the fuck did I just walk into?
The man winks as he unbuckles his belt, still staring directly at me.
I take another step back but lose my footing and am about to fall when strong arms grab me from behind.
“You came,” he whispers in my ear. He smells like spearmint and whiskey.
Just like the first night we met. Also something faintly earthy.
He spins me around and takes me in. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s wearing that dopey smile again.
Looking me up and down from the dip in my dress that shows off my cleavage to the worn Chucks on my feet, he lets out a low growl.
“You are so gorgeous.”
I place my untouched Jell-O shot on a table beside me and run my eyes over him. He’s wearing black jeans, a gray henley, and tan lace-up harness-buckle boots. His hair is perfectly styled, with slight waves falling over his forehead. When I look at his eyes again, I can see the faint red streaks.
“Are you high?”
He chuckles. “Do I have to be high to give you a compliment?”
“Well, yeah. Also, your eyes are bloodshot.”
“I just had a few hits.”
I nod my head and look around. “Have you seen Em?”
“Yep. She’s out back. Luke was horrified by what was going on in here, so he took her out to the pool.”
“Can you show me where it is?” I ask.
He goes to grab my hand, but I immediately pull away, looking around to make sure no one saw. When my eyes catch his face, I see the dejection.
“Not here,” I murmur, and he nods.