Chapter 12
LIKE A VILLAIN
I didn’t think he’d admit to it out loud.
Usually, whenever I mention anything about his treatment or words, he denies it or ignores that I’ve said it at all—always quick to redirect that negativity back on me.
So, the fact that he’s acknowledging it, owning up to it, has me dumbstruck.
I don’t know what to say. Hell, I’m still reeling from my near-death experience.
He held my hand. He let me hold him.
Fuck.
No matter how often I try to channel my rejection into his treatment, I’ve always worried that he’d see underneath it.
While it does hurt knowing he reacted so badly and didn’t give me even three seconds to explain, I’ve tried everything in my power to be around him, too.
Everything I do, more or less, is to get his attention.
At first, I tried to make myself professional and welcoming.
I wanted to prove to him that I was still the same guy he wanted to kiss and talk to.
He promised to make me feel good that night, and I think he never kept that promise until about two minutes ago. What’s changed? Did I do something different? Maybe apologizing to everyone made him see I’m not a monster after all? I do want friends, love, and people to care about me, too.
My head is all static just knowing that it might’ve altered his perception of me. Finally. After eight years. Should I try to talk to him?
Explain myself?
Should I tell him that I was just a kid with an honest-to-God crush that morphed into something I couldn’t control?
What will he think of me if I cough up that I’m ninety percent sure I’m in love with him?
Wetting my suddenly dry lips, I peek in his direction. He’s staring out the window, and just seeing the endless sky has my stomach flipping, so I quickly look away.
I fuss with my hair, try to wipe off my mascara that I know is all over my face, and busy myself with retrieving my work tablet. Instead of saying what I want to, instead of addressing the damn elephant in the room—er, plane—I redo a spreadsheet and hate myself even more than I already do.
About three hours into the flight, the attendant brings snacks.
It’s a pitiful bag of nuts and pretzels.
I inhale it all, polish off the tiny cup of water, and my stomach growls painfully.
That morsel of sustenance makes my hunger spike to levels I forgot even existed.
I glance over at Devon, seeing him happily munching on beef jerky, M&Ms, and a huge bag of Ruffles while watching some documentary on his phone.
He had all of that stuffed into his backpack, which is currently open between his spread knees.
I stare a bit longer than I mean to, really eyeballing the candy.
As much as I try to eat healthy, I’ve got a major sweet tooth. If anyone knew about my secret drawer of junk in my bedside table, I’d probably die of shame. He notices after about thirty seconds and smirks. Pulling one of his earbuds out, he pauses his movie and gestures at his snacks.
“All you have to do is ask, princess.” The name doesn’t feel loaded like some of the other times. It feels…nice. Intimate, even. My stomach flips.
Huffing, I return to my tablet and feign disinterest.
“I’ve never seen someone eat a bag of nuts faster than you—well, maybe a chipmunk.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m fine. I don’t like any of that stuff anyway.”
“Liar,” he muses, reaching forward to press play, and I lunge for the M&Ms. “Seriously?”
With the bag in my hand, I unceremoniously dump the contents into my mouth.
“Damn, pretty boy. How many more can you fit in there?” The stupid name and the way he says it make me choke. I cough, spitting into the bag, and he scrunches up his nose, amusement flickering behind his annoyance. “Good thing I have another one, fuckin’ hell, Lex.”
The blush dips beneath my shirt collar and down my chest. I delicately wipe my face, lower the bag, and stare down at the three brightly colored circles covered in my spit. “Fine,” I growl. “May I have some of your food?”
Chuckling, he reaches into the backpack and pulls out an unopened Gatorade, another bag of M&Ms, and a protein bar—the good kind with caramel and chocolate. I stave off a groan, taking it all with what I hope is a thankful expression.
“Like a little chocolate goblin,” he says with an amused smirk.
I tear into the protein bar first, not bothering to hide my happy noises while I chew.
He watches me the entire time—movie forgotten.
After that’s demolished, I crack open the Gatorade and take a few big sips.
Then, as if I’m not revealing all my dirty secrets, I rip open the new bag of M&Ms and pour a giant handful.
“Do I need to make sure to bring extra snacks for you when we fly home?”
“I’m not sitting next to you on the flight back,” I say through chews.
“Why not?” He frowns.
“You can’t stand me. Why would I subject myself to that for another six hours?” Fuck, what is wrong with me? He was being nice! Sweet! And I go and say that?
The frown deepens and turns into a scowl.
It takes him a few moments to really sit with what I’ve said, and then just like that, our precious moment of truce shatters.
“And you wonder why. I’ve been nothing but nice to you this entire time.
” He gestures at the candy I’m eating. “I could’ve just let you sit there hungry.
I could’ve just let you freak out during takeoff. ”
I stop eating. My heart starts pounding faster and faster.
“And to top it off, despite it all, I’ve even let it slide that you’ve somehow convinced Michael to tell me off and take your side, even when you don’t deserve it. So maybe, I don’t know, say thank you?”
Opening my mouth to say something—anything, I find myself unable to. He shakes his head with an irritated growl, stuffs the earbud back in, and resumes his movie.
I fold up the bag of candy, slide it into my carry-on, and make sure not to bother him again.
When we begin our descent into Chicago, Devon doesn’t hold my hand.
While I panic and try not to cry, he makes sure to avert his eyes.
We land, park, and I hurry to get ahead of everyone.
It doesn’t work, and I end up wedged between Michael and Phoenix.
I keep my head down, squeeze the strap of my carry-on tighter, and follow the line of passengers off the plane.
We stop off at baggage claim, and Kelly tries to make idle chitchat, but I’m not in the mood.
I need to isolate in my hotel room.
I need to…hurt in private.
Everyone else is bunking up. Phoenix, Eli, Jorge, and Oli are sharing one room. Kelly is staying with an online buddy to cut down costs. Michael and Devon are sharing a room, and I’m all alone. Just how it should be.
We take two Ubers, and I make sure to get in the one without Devon.
After that disaster of a flight, I can’t stomach being close to him again. I acted like an asshole. An ungrateful, rude, prick. It takes about forty-five minutes to reach our hotel, and once we arrive, I make a beeline for the front desk to handle check-ins.
It all goes off without a hitch until the receptionist gets to my room.
“Oh,” she says, eyes searching the computer screen. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“What do you mean?” The band stands somewhere in the lobby, leaving me alone.
Why would they help? I take care of everything. They are always squared away. I never let them down.
“It looks like you only booked two rooms. Would it be under another name, perhaps?”
I pull out my phone, trying not to swear, and find my reservation details. I scroll through the terms and the bill and realize my private suite with a king-size bed and jacuzzi was never reserved. "What?" I whisper, frantically scrolling. "I could’ve sworn—"
“It looks like we’re all booked up for the next week. Do you want to try another location? I can call the one in—”
“Everything okay?”
I recognize the deep timbre of Michael’s voice. Looking up at him, I can’t hide my distraught face. His blue eyes search mine. “What happened?” he asks gently, his voice low so the rest of the lobby doesn’t overhear.
Still rubbed raw from the flight and everything with Devon, I explode.
“I didn’t reserve my room! I thought I did—triple-checked it—but apparently not.
I was focused on getting Oli and Phoenix first-class seats, making sure they had leg room and weren't cramped. Then they both insisted their partners sit with them, so I scrambled. I swore I reserved my room, but I didn’t. I didn’t!”
Michael glances between the receptionist and me, his jaw ticking. “Just stay with Devon and me.”
“What? No!”
“We have a fold-out we can bring to the room, if that helps,” the receptionist offers in a kind tone.
“That’d be great,” Michael tells her smoothly. He places a steadying hand on my shoulder and says, “I’ll take the roll out, and you can have the extra bed. Okay?”
“I’m not sharing a room with Devon,” I spit, feeling like I might start hyperventilating.
“It wouldn’t just be Devon. I’ll be there too.”
“He hates me,” I tell him. “And after our flight…it’s not any better.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure he behaves.” My eyes widen. “Just get us our keys, and we can go get settled.”
I blink, feeling a bit dazed.
That hand on my shoulder squeezes. “Go on.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I nod and get the damn hotel keys from the receptionist.
Michael walks over and pulls Devon aside. I don’t know if it’s intended, but I overhear the quiet conversation.
“Lex is going to stay with us.”
Devon sighs heavily. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
“Make it work.”
“I just tried to be nice to him, and he basically told me to fuck off.”
The pair of them glance at me, and I quickly avert my attention elsewhere.
“Do it for me,” Michael whispers.
Sneaking a glance back in their direction, I watch as they have their infamous silent conversations. Eventually, Devon blows out a breath.
“Okay. But this time I didn’t start it.”
It seems that even though Devon is the eldest of the pair, he backs down to Michael. Hell, I back down to him. My stomach swoops, and all those M&Ms crawl up my esophagus.
This is going to be a disaster.