Chapter 50 #2
Fantastic. Just what I need right now. I wasn’t a fan of the Monaco Grand Prix before, but now? I think I actually despise it.
“You should watch where you’re going, Cornelia,” Weberly says, drawing out my name in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You could really hurt someone.”
I had somehow managed to avoid interacting with them the entire weekend. It wasn’t that difficult—Annabelle was avoiding Laurie, and I followed her lead. Avoiding Laurie partially meant avoiding the boys as well.
And the guys aren’t staying with us, which makes things easier.
They’re staying with Lucian’s parents at their house.
They live five minutes from my family’s house in Monaco—one of our multiple holiday homes.
Technically, it’s in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, France, but it’s easier to say Monaco, and it’s only twenty minutes away.
Fifteen if you drive over the speed limit, though right now it’s a bit higher since there’s a lot of traffic due to the race.
The boys always stayed there. The first time we came, we stayed with them, but Annabelle and I didn’t do it a second time.
We each have our own reasons. Let’s sum mine up, as I have no patience for old, bigoted people, and Annabelle’s as every time she was near Lucian’s parents, they’d start talking about how she and Lucian should date and what a lovely couple they’d make. It made both of them really uncomfortable.
Lucian has come out to his parents numerous times, but they seem to act like it’s just a phase he’ll grow out of. They’re arseholes, in my opinion, but Lucian justifies them with the excuse that they’re old, very religious, and from a different generation.
He seems to have a better relationship with his parents than I have with mine. So, who am I to judge?
I could handle being around TJ and Weberly if Benedict were with me, but he isn’t.
“I would have liked to hurt you,” I say under my breath.
I’ve never wanted to punch someone this much since Camille—and with her, I actually did. I should probably be careful not to repeat that situation. It wasn’t my proudest moment. Though… not my least proud.
“No Benedict tonight?” Weberly asks me.
“Have you seen him at all this weekend?” I shoot back. “Because if you did, you might want to get checked out.” I make a quick hand gesture—the universal sign for crazy.
I glance at TJ, and he’s trying to hide it, but a smirk is sneaking its way onto his face. Weberly, on the other hand, looks like she’d love nothing more than to punch me right now.
Glad we’re on the same page.
“I haven’t, but I’ve been so occupied,” she says, leaning on TJ like she owns him. I hate it because it’s something I used to do. He used to be mine. “I could have missed him. Why isn’t he here? Did he break up with you?”
I roll my eyes. “No, he had to work, but I guess you wouldn’t understand.”
Benedict couldn’t make it because he had to stay in London, shooting some promotion for an upcoming movie he filmed last year.
I’ve already seen it. It’s good. It’s a romcom, the kind of thing I like to watch.
And it was a surreal experience, watching a movie with your boyfriend in it while he watched you watch it. It’s also my new favourite thing to do.
I don’t bother waiting for her comeback and instead turn to TJ. “If you want to ask me something, do it yourself instead of having your pet do it for you,” I say coldly, then pivot on my heels and make my way to the terrace without looking back.
Weberly might have had a passing curiosity about why Benedict isn’t here, but the real interest comes from TJ. I overheard him asking Laurie on the first day if something had happened between us, but since I haven’t been talking to Laurie much, he didn’t have an answer to give.
As I step onto the terrace, a wave of guilt washes over me.
Annabelle was mad at Laurie and took it out on me.
Then I was mad because of it—and the whole situation—and the fact I felt stuck in the middle, and I ended up taking it out on TJ and Weberly.
It feels like we’re passing our anger onto people who don’t deserve it. Well, maybe Weberly does a bit.
I find a little nook on the terrace where no one is around and call Benedict. After the second ring, he picks up.
“Hi, beautiful,” he greets.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
I promised him I would call him once I got back home, but it’s already a little past three, and the party shows no sign of winding down. It’s one hour later in London, so I wasn’t even sure if he’d answer now—let alone when I get home. That’s why I called him, so he doesn’t wait up.
“No, I was just finishing watching a movie. What about you? Are you already back home?” I heard the background noise stop. I guess he paused the movie.
“No, I’m still at one of the after-parties,” I answer him, shifting my phone to the other hand.
“Is it good?”
“It depends on your definition of a good party.” Some people might hate parties with drugs going around so freely, while others may find it the type they enjoy.
Personally, I’m indifferent to both. I just tend to be a little more aware when drugs are involved.
“What I can tell you is that it’s entertaining. ”
“And how has today been?” Benedict asks, his voice sounding sleepy.
“A lot of fast cars,” I reply, “and a lot of people freaking out about the fast cars.”
Benedict laughs, and it makes me think about how much I wish he were here. There’s something about him that relaxes me and makes me feel lighter, like he’s a human cyclobenzaprine.
“So, basically the same as yesterday?” he teases, then yawns.
“Pretty much,” I admit, smiling.
I heard some faint shuffling on his end. Maybe he’s getting ready for bed. I hope he is. He sounds tired.
“I should let you go so you can return to the entertaining party.”
“And you to sleep,” I counter, looking towards the skyline. “It’s pretty late, and even later in London.”
“I won’t be able to until I know you’re home,” he counters firmly.
I fidget with my everyday ring. “You don’t have to wait up for me.”
“I know,” he replies smoothly. “But I want to. And once I know you’re home and all tucked up in bed, I’ll sleep better than if I went to sleep right now.”
I smile. “Fine, but I still think you should go to bed.”
“And I think you should go enjoy the party. When you get home, shoot me a message.”
“I will,” I promise. “Good night.”
“Goodnight,” he says softly, and hangs up the phone. I feel much lighter and less on edge than I did when I first called him.
I should have known the calm wouldn’t last; this night felt cursed from the start. When I turn around, my stomach drops—TJ is standing there, close enough he could have overheard the entire conversation. Judging by the look on his face, I’m guessing he did.
He doesn’t say a word. He just, in one sharp move, downs the entire glass of champagne he is holding, then walks away without another glance. I stay frozen, staring at the spot where he was standing a few seconds ago.
It feels like we’re caught playing a game that none of us can or will win. I watch him with Weberly, and the jealousy creeps in, like I’m still his girlfriend. He overheard me talking to Benedict, and somehow, I feel like I’ve been caught cheating, and he was looking at me that way too.