Chapter Twenty-Five
Somehow, Dorian manages to get his roommates to agree to me having a girl’s night.
Connor has to leave for some overnight assignment—one I suspect has nothing to do with school—while Seamus seems weirdly excited and spends the afternoon asking me about my roommates.
I’m learning to roll with his weirdness, so I don’t give him shit.
Dorian and I spend the day doing oddly domestic activities together.
In the morning and for some of the afternoon, we do homework.
Later on, he agrees to take me grocery shopping so I can bake some goodies for tonight and make a few batches of treats for my wolf pack. I hope to visit my wolves tomorrow.
When Valerie and Cara arrive at eight p.m., I rush to the door to let them in.
I’m eager to see them again. I miss living with my girls, and while Cara can be annoying, I also miss her endless rambling about topics that range from the weather, to why religion is bullshit, to the latest fashion trends, to the world of BDSM.
“Hey, bitch,” Cara says when I open the door, hefting up a bag of Chinese food. “Hope you’re hungry, I brought reinforcements.” She’s decked out in all pink—a hot-pink blazer over a light-pink shirt and matching skinny jeans.
I smile. “I hope you guys are in the mood for cookies, brownies, and cupcakes. I spent the last two hours baking; I just need to frost the cupcakes.”
Valerie, wearing all black, lifts up a brown paper bag that clinks with glass bottles. “I brought the booze, and a bullet-pointed proposal on why we should watch a horror movie tonight.”
Cara huffs. “I thought we agreed to a rom-com.”
“Horror movies are fucking hilarious,” Val deadpans, giving Cara a look of vague disgust. “Sometimes they’re romantic, too.”
I grab a fistful of both of their shirts and pull them into the house, giving them loud kisses on the cheek in greeting.
“Dorian will be around, his psycho roommate is out for the night, and the British roommate has been told to stay out of sight.”
“Mira, love, you should know by now that I’m not very good at listening to orders,” Seamus says from directly behind me. His voice startles me so much I nearly jump out of my skin.
Cara practically salivates. “That accent. That face.” She clears her throat. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Seamus Archibald the Third, darling,” Seamus responds. “And you are?”
“Just Cara,” Cara says, eyeing Seamus like he’s her next meal. “You single?”
“Miserably so,” Seamus says, giving Cara a mischievous grin, though I get the sense his flirting is a sign of friendliness rather than interest. When his gaze falls on Valerie, who’s looking at something on her phone, his eyes sharpen and his energy changes from watchful to alert, as if he’s a Doberman whose ears have just pricked up.
“And who might you be, love?” Valerie’s eyes flick over to Seamus.
She gives him a critical up and down, snorts, and returns her attention to her phone. “Uninterested.”
Just like that, Seamus’s focus locks onto Valerie, and I heave a silent sigh. I can already tell I should’ve bargained with Seamus to stay out of the house tonight.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Seamus murmurs. “See, I have a condition that makes me prone to only fall for women who are notoriously uninterested.”
“I’m pre-med,” Valerie comments drily. “I say you’ll live.” She powers off her phone and puts it away, turning to look at me. “So, food and a horror movie?”
“No horror,” Cara says with a shudder.
I shrug. “I’m kind of on board with Valerie on this one. It is spooky season, and horror movies are usually funny. Thrillers are even more hilarious, though.”
Seamus gives me a strange look. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Dorian strolls into the entryway, slinging an arm around my shoulder and dropping a kiss on my lips before offering Cara and Valerie an enigmatic smile. “Ladies,” he drawls. “Apologies for intruding on girl’s night—”
“You can intrude on me or in me any time,” Cara says with a smile.
Dorian doesn’t even look at her. “Sorry, I’m spoken for. Oh, and keep Mira out of your whole bar pickup routine unless I’m also invited. Now, dinner?”
Half an hour later, the five of us have settled in the living room, but we still haven’t managed to pick out a movie.
Dorian and I are seated together on the blue couch, while Cara’s curled up on an armchair to the right of us.
Valerie and Seamus are seated on a two-cushion sofa to our left.
I’m actively shielding my box of sesame chicken from Dorian, who still manages to steal a piece every time I try to argue the merits of watching a horror movie.
“Oh, enough,” Valerie says with a loud sigh. “Let’s get some alcohol in Cara and she’ll agree to whatever.” She looks at Seamus. “You have a cocktail mixer? This place looks fancy enough for one.”
Seamus smiles. “I sure do, love. It’s in the kitchen—care to see it?”
Valerie’s gaze flicks over to me and she raises her eyebrows, silently asking me if it’s safe. I don’t think Seamus would hurt her, but he might come onto her really strongly, so I say, “I can show you. The cookies and cupcakes have probably cooled enough to frost anyways.”
Valerie’s gaze sharpens. “Vanilla cupcakes?”
I smile. “Yup.”
“With that vanilla buttercream frosting?” she says, her voice faintly breathless.
I nod. “Indeed.”
She stands. “Yeah, I’ll mix drinks while you frost cupcakes. And one or two might disappear in the interim."
Seamus makes a humming noise. "Vanilla, hmm? That's disappointing.”
Valerie releases a low, taunting chuckle, swooping down to pick up the paper bag she brought. “Seamus, there is nothing about me that’s vanilla.”
“Oh?” Seamus says, sounding like he wants to know every sordid detail of Valerie’s sex life. I quickly pull her into the kitchen by her hand, cutting him off before he can start interrogating her.
“He’s hot, if not a bit arrogant,” Valerie says once we get to the kitchen. “I might fuck him. You cool with that?”
I blink. “I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not interested in his personality,” Valerie says. “His body, on the other hand, looks excellent. Bonus points if he’s kinky.” She pauses, unloading several liquor bottles. “Is he kinky?”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Um… there’s a good chance, but I’m not sure. You’d have to ask him.”
She shrugs. “I don’t have to. He’s a total dom—I can feel it. I would not mind spending a night having my brains fucked out by him.” She gives a low laugh. “The rest of the time? He strikes me as insufferable.”
“You’re not wrong about the insufferable part.
How are things in the apartment?” I ask, redirecting the topic as I pull the buttercream frosting out of the fridge and set the baking pan of cupcakes on the kitchen island.
I rifle through the drawers until I find the professional frosting pipe that I convinced Dorian to buy for me earlier, a request he was all too happy to indulge.
He seems happy to indulge every request I make, no matter how frivolous.
Except the ones that involve us going our separate ways.
“I haven’t killed Cara yet, so I’d say they’re going well,” Valerie says blithely. “Moscow Mule?”
“Make it light,” I tell her. “You have a heavy pour.”
She shrugs. “I also have a high alcohol tolerance and don’t really get hung over.” Her eyes flick up to the doorway and she releases a groan as Dorian and Seamus file in, followed closely by Cara.
I eye the four of them as I spoon frosting into the piping bag. “If you’re all here, you might as well help out. Cara, get yourself a drink and make your peace with a horror movie. Seamus, please plate the chocolate chip cookies, and try not to eat all of them. Dorian, how steady is your hand?”
“Extremely steady,” Dorian responds.
I nod. “Wonderful. Come help me frost.”
“You’re doing quite well in your role as lady of the house,” Seamus comments, tipping me a wink.
While Dorian and I get started frosting, Seamus quickly plates all the cookies.
He moves to stand right beside Valerie as she mixes up drinks, leaving barely a few inches of space separating them. “You going to make me a drink, love?”
“What do you want?” Valerie asks, sliding a Moscow Mule across the counter to me.
“That depends,” Seamus says with a mischievous smile. “Are you on the menu?”
Not pausing in shaking her cocktail, Valerie says, “You can’t afford me.”
Seamus’s smile widens. “I beg to differ, darling. I’m a very generous person in the right circumstances.”
“You clingy?” Valerie asks.
Seamus releases an astonished laugh. “No. You a brat?”
Valerie looks at him jerkily, tilting her head to the side, as if he’s just spoken some sort of code word that only she understands.
Dorian whispers in my ear, “A brat refers to a submissive that has attitude.”
Oh. My hand falters as I vacillate between frosting cupcakes and watching the exchange between Valerie and Seamus.
Valerie has her fair share of flings, but she’s not as out there as Cara is, and she doesn’t ever stick around for more than just sex.
She’s also pretty private about her sex life, never blistering my ears with details like Cara does.
“Bratty, but not necessarily a brat,” Valerie says mildly, eyeing Seamus. “What do you want to drink?”
Seamus grins. “Surprise me.” Valerie tilts her head from side to side, considering him.
“Do you have cinnamon sticks?”
Seamus nods. “Of course.”
“Matches? Round glasses? Good whiskey? Old Fashioned supplies?”
“Yes to all of the above,” Seamus says, sounding intrigued. “I’ll fetch them, and perhaps we can talk more about your… proclivities over a drink.”
Valerie shrugs noncommittally. “We’ll see how it goes. You seem like an annoying person, so perhaps talking shouldn’t be on the menu.”
Seamus leaves the room with a chuckle, and Cara says she’s going to go find a horror movie she can stomach, leaving Valerie, Dorian and me alone in the kitchen.