39. Rest In Peace #2
Word will eventually spread through the populace of the university, so I won’t have to go back to an absolute shit show in the fall.
Still, gossip travels infinitely faster in these parts it would seem, because the atmosphere of the banquet hall changes within minutes.
Yes, people are still pointing and whispering, but everyone’s far more keen on looking at my back rather than sneering at my dress, or lack thereof.
Happily tucking my cell away, I take a gander with Jase around the banquet hall, watching in real-time as everyone else’s phones buzz, ring, and chime.
Jase procures a couple of champagne flutes from a passing server and hands me one, consulting the imaginary watch on his wrist. “We’ve still got about a half hour until the ball drops.
What do you want to do? Get a bite to eat, stick around here for the show, or go back to my place? ”
His voice drops into a whisper for that last suggestion, and feeling his breath against my ear has a delicious shiver coursing down my spine.
It turns into outright goosebumps as he draws me against the front of him with the help of his hand now positioned on the small of my back.
The fabric of my dress sits low enough on my hips that it barely covers my ass, and his fingers take advantage of that fact, slipping just below the material.
Honestly, walking out on a high note like this is enough for me, and I really could go for a bite to eat—and I do mean actual food. Not the plates of escargot currently circulating the room.
But for the first time in my life, I want to be here.
So, I suggest combining his last two options.
This just makes Jase chuckle, the sound low and throaty as he once again purrs into my ear. “The car ride back and forth would only give us fifteen minutes, and that’s not nearly enough time for me to do what I want with you.”
“Last I checked, your apartment isn’t the only place to have that kind of fun.
I’m sure there’s an empty room around here somewhere.
” I dial up the theatrics to eleven, teasing the buttons of his dress shirt as I bat my lashes and bite my bottom lip.
“I seem to remember a certain alcove by the river.”
Both of us discard our champagne flutes, and I don’t need Jase to verbalize his agreement to know the idea of finishing what we started the evening of our little reunion sounds as enticing to him as it does to me.
The green and blue of his irises turn into barely more than a thin ring of color as his pupils expand.
I pull away and give a coy smile. “See you there in five?”
Just as I turn to go, a hand grabs my wrist, and I’m immediately hauled back up against Jase, his mouth finding mine.
What he does with his lips and tongue ruins my other senses because, for a minute, everything else falls away.
I’m not aware of the other guests, I don’t discern the music or the whispers, and, even better, I don’t care.
I try not to smile like an idiot, but it doesn’t work. Not when he’s grinning back.
Only, Jase’s expression is far more predatory. If it was anybody else, I would be scared to have someone look at me like I’m dinner, but coming from Jase? It has me throbbing at the memory of what else he can do with his tongue.
Sure enough, Jase’s words are practically growled, that grin of his still just as promising. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk away from me in that dress, love.”
An unspoken rule for hooking up at an establishment like this is that each member of the participating party should exit the room at different times so as not to arouse suspicion.
Jase, however, pays no heed to such tradition, and I’m not about to argue.
Before we’ve even made it out to the terrace, he has my legs wrapped around his waist as his hands grip the base of my thighs.
The sun hasn’t set just yet, but with the overcast, it may as well have.
The terrace is dark, quiet, and—best of all—vacant.
At least, that’s what we think as Jase carries me down the stone steps to the courtyard overlooking the river.
Not until he starts making his way to the alcove do I see something out of my periphery.
Or rather, someones. Two silhouettes stand against the side of the building, and only when I turn to look at them directly do I realize that Jase and I weren’t the only ones coming out here with a certain intent.
Thankfully, both parties appear to have only gotten to second base thus far, but it’s still awkward when one of the two men catches sight of Jase and me not a heartbeat later.
A collective chorus of “Shit” circulates around the courtyard as everyone disentangles themselves from their partners.
Even in the limited light, I can see a hint of a blush from the guy who had been pressed up against the wall by the other male, likely because he’s wearing the trademark uniform reserved for the waiting staff. Odds are that he’s still on the clock.
Since Jase and I are the party crashers this time, we both excuse ourselves and begin making our way back to the staircase when the other guy, who had been facing the wall, turns to look at us.
My heart double steps because what the fuck?
It’s Luke.
As in my sister’s boyfriend.
I may not have the best relationship with Vanessa anymore, but I know her well enough that she wouldn’t have a problem dating someone who’s bi.
A cheater, on the other hand?
Not a snowball’s chance in Hell.
I’d be inclined to think that maybe they’re a throuple, if not for the fact that Luke looks guilty as shit and feels compelled to “explain” himself.
I’m not the type to insert myself into drama that doesn’t involve me, but I also feel an obligation to tell someone if their partner is cheating on them.
I draw up short, however, when Luke blurts, “Please talk to your sister. Just…don’t tell anyone else.”
Seriously, what the hell?
If he’s that concerned about preserving his reputation, shouldn’t he know his scorned partner would be the first to tell everyone what he did?
Even stranger, the waiter he was just making out with mutters about how he needs to get back to work before kissing Luke again and calling him “hun”.
“Is my sister your, uh… beard ?” I ask tentatively. It’s the only thing that could make sense, but the question only leaves Luke looking even more uncomfortable.
“Not exactly.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I guess you could say I’m her beard.”
And that makes even less sense.
Vanessa has only ever dated men, and even if she did start going out with women, who would care? My dad and Blythe wouldn’t have a problem with it, nor would anyone else we know.
I say as much, but Luke shakes his head.
“Vanessa’s only attracted to men, as far as I know. Our arrangement is more of a…security issue.”
To say I’m lost would be putting it kindly. Jase, on the other hand, is following along just fine. He doesn’t so much as blink, motioning to me, “Is this because I’m staying at their house?”
Jase suddenly looks a little sheepish when I shoot him a look.
“Your sister’s the one who locked me out of the house the night I had to come through your window. And it’s not the last time she’s done it, either. I checked your home security footage. She puts the deadlatches on all the doors every night after everyone goes to bed.”
I’m about to argue it isn’t that strange, not to mention ineffective, seeing as how Jase is already staying inside the house and not camping out in the backyard, but he beats me to the punch.
“She also doesn’t sleep in her own room. After everyone goes to bed, she locks herself inside the small guest room next to your dad’s office.”
And it’s also an interior room, so there aren’t any windows, but now that he mentions it… “I doubt it has to do with you. I noticed Vanessa leaving the guest room with a blanket and pillow a few times last summer. She just said bees kept getting in her bedroom.”
This does nothing to improve Jase’s attitude.
“By the sounds of it, I’m pretty sure she’s wedging the desk chair under the doorknob, despite there already being a lock.
And you may have also noticed that every package delivered to the house for your sister is from a self-defense or security company. ”
The growing knot in my stomach tightens at the recollection of the last box to show up just before my date with Wes.
Goosebumps rise across my skin despite the humidity as Luke confirms that Jase isn ’ t the problem here, but he won’t offer more than that. He just keeps insisting I ask my sister.
I’m almost tempted to laugh. “Vanessa wouldn’t talk to me on a good day. And after what happened yesterday, I’d have better odds wrestling a grizzly bear.”
And now Luke looks thoroughly confused. “Why? Because of the photos of you and Trent?”
“No, because of what I said to her when she confronted me about them.”
Given his expression doesn’t improve, I can assume Vanessa didn’t tell him about the exchange (or the little fact that she slapped me).
I’d rather crawl into a hole than relay the events, but I admit to calling her out for being a hypocrite since, out of the two of us, she’s the one who slept with Trent.
Luke’s obviously pissed, but he also looks like he might get sick. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Trent.” I don’t mean to bite out my words, but I also don’t appreciate the accusation in his voice. “And then I had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing the nudes he sent to Vanessa,” I throw in for good measure.
Maybe not the best idea.
The limited lighting isn’t enough to hide the fact that Luke’s face is turning an alarming shade of red, and I can’t blame him. Not when his next words rip the ground right out from under me.
“She never slept with that cretin,” he practically growls. “He fucking raped her!”