Chapter Twenty-Five Julia #2
It was like the sky opened. One minute there was no rain aside from one suspicious sprinkle, and the next it was pouring.
“Oh my God!” Jasmine screamed, laughing as she raised her hands to cover her head. “What the hell?”
It was a cold autumn rain, the kind with big fat drops that slapped.
“My makeup says no to this bullshit, come on!” Donovan yelled.
Everyone took off running toward the side of the rooftop where the elevators were located, and I was about to follow—because my hair didn’t need this kind of help—when suddenly an umbrella appeared over my head.
I glanced to my right, half expecting to see Bernard because that was the sort of magic he always managed to perform, but it was Damion instead.
Towering over me, seeming even taller than usual, the umbrella high above my head.
“Am I the only one who checks the weather before I go out?” he said calmly, his voice low in the quiet of the underbrella we were sharing.
For a second I forgot how to breathe, because all my existence knew in that moment was him, standing over me, eyes dark and lazy. And the tiniest bit of water droplets hanging onto the curls of black hair.
Oh no.
“I think you must be,” I said, finding my words. I smiled in surprise, the twinkle in his eyes making it impossible not to.
“Care to accompany me down the stairs that no one else seems to know about?” He gestured with his head toward the bar.
“Yes, please,” I said, still a tiny bit breathless from whatever this rescue was.
I walked with him over to the bar, our steps in time as he held the umbrella over me. And behind the curtain that ran parallel to the wall of bottles—voilà—was a staircase.
“After you, Nebraska,” he said.
When we reached the bottom, he calmly closed the umbrella, leaned it against the wall, and pushed open the nearly invisible door that blended into the wall. Magic.
Just like that, we were in the back hallway of a stunning home.
The wood floor was gleaming, a long white rug stretching to places unknown like the carpet had been rolled out to lead us home.
The walls were beige, trimmed in white, and covered with paintings that were both quiet and bold and luxurious, all at once. Like monochrome finger paintings.
“Come on,” he said, lightly grabbing my sleeve as he led me down the hall toward the noise.
I followed, passing door after door, and when we turned the corner, I gasped when I saw them.
The Skins.
No, no, no.
They’re not supposed to be here.
They were standing in a group, blocking the hallway from whatever living space was on the other side of them. Wineglasses were in all their hands, and they saw us at the same time.
“Look who’s here,” Naomi said, her eyelids heavy like she was totally out of it. “It’s Damion and New Money.”
“You look like you’re having a good time,” Damion said, and I felt his fingers tug me and my sleeve a little closer. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, we’ve been pregaming all day,” she said. “Coco’s dad is still overseas, so I’ve been staying with her all week.”
“While the king is away, the princesses play,” he muttered, so quietly that only I could hear it.
“Oh my God, you are everywhere, Corn Queen,” Coco said, walking over with a mocking smile on her perfect face. “I cannot seem to avoid you.”
“Yeah,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest as the mean girls grinned like they were happy to see me.
Jackals.
“I mean, that’s what they have in Nebraska, right?” She glanced at Damion; then her pale eyes came back to me. “Corn?”
“There is corn in the state of Nebraska, yes,” I said, ridiculously, horribly, terribly embarrassed for Damion to witness this. It shouldn’t matter to me, because he was one of them, but for some reason, it did.
“What are you doing?” Damion calmly asked Coco. “Do you have to be snarky all the time?”
Oh.
“You’ve known me since kindergarten,” she said in a bored tone, her pale eyes all over him. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“So yes, you do have to be snarky all the time,” he quipped, looking irritated.
“I just like to be honest and say what everyone else is thinking,” she said, glancing over at her sidekicks.
“Everyone is not thinking asinine words like ‘Corn Queen,’ ” he said dismissively. “And why are you even here? You hate Beckett.”
“Actually, everyone is absolutely thinking ‘Corn Queen’ when they see your adorable little country buddy here,” she said with a sneer. “And I came to this pathetic excuse for a party because I need to talk to you, Damion.”
I felt like passing out as she made fun of me, but I also wasn’t going to stand there and let her crap all over me either.
But before I could open my mouth to utter something brilliant like headband, I saw Damion’s face change.
His I don’t give a shit mask slipped for a second, and he looked…
hunted…? He visibly swallowed and seemed nervous.
No. Damion Rutledge didn’t get nervous.
But he looked uncomfortable as he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, Coke, I don’t have time for—”
“It’ll only take a minute, Dame,” she interrupted, her lips curling into a flirty smile as her long eyelashes fluttered.
She stepped closer to him, put her hand on his arm, and said, “We can use this bedroom right here, have a nice… conversation, and you can go find your Midwestern buddy when we’re finished. ”
Her tone was thick with suggestiveness, as if the word “conversation” were a synonym for “sexual encounter.”
Which made something animalistic rise up in me.
“Actually, Coke,” I said through gritted teeth, grabbing his sleeve with all ten of my fingers. Between the way she’d insulted me, her I am queen demeanor, and the terrified look she’d put on Damion’s face, I was suddenly infused with a purpose so strong it was almost overwhelming.
That purpose—making sure she didn’t get what she wanted.
I tilted my head. “We were literally looking for a bedroom when we ran into you, because we’re dying to have our own private conversation, so I think you’ll have to chat with Dame some other time.”
“Jules,” Damion said, and when I looked at him, he was watching me through narrowed eyes, like he wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing.
Like he wasn’t sure I understood the undercurrents that were buzzing in that hallway.
“Hmm?” I said, raising my eyebrows, hoping he wasn’t mad that I was attempting to save him.
Something about my expression must’ve answered his question, because his mouth slid into a filthy smirk, a half smile that set loose a thousand butterflies in my stomach.
His eyes were downright wicked when he said, “If you and I have our conversation, there’s no way in hell I’m chatting with anyone else tonight. ”
I smiled, and with every ounce of courage I had left, I turned back to Coco and said, “Some other time that isn’t tonight, apparently.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before Damion pushed open the bedroom door beside him and shoved me inside.