Chapter 22
ANASTASIA
Me
Hey, thank you again for dinner last night
I really enjoyed myself, but classes are a bit much right now, and I don’t think I can add seeing anyone to the mix
Hope you understand
Ok there, I was polite and to the point.
Not that I need to listen to him. But my text does hold some truth, I can’t involve myself with anyone right now.
Even people who involve themselves. But fuck why does he have to be so damn tempting.
He’s the devil Stassi, fell from heaven to lure you into sin.
Maybe, but this sin feels so damn good, and has a four letter name that taste like heaven slipping out of my mouth.
Nope. Stop being a whore Stassi. Just get yourself a vibrator and stop thinking about how he makes you feel.
I’m at the local coffee shop waiting for them to call my name.
The café is busy, students and locals buzzing around, it smells like espresso and vanilla syrup, a comforting mix.
I needed some fresh air and Vitamin D after the night I had.
Whether the actual vitamin or the other, beats me.
I probably needed both. Definitely need both.
After a few minutes the barista calls my name and I take my coffee, finding a small table by the window.
People watching is a hobby of mine, and this gets me the perfect view of every passerby.
I like to make up scenarios in my head of where each person might be heading off too or what they do in life.
Across the street a man is sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, every so often glancing down at his watch. A few paces next to him, a man in a suit stands tall, bluetooth in his ear, sunglasses on his face, looking ever like a secret agent.
“Yes, I’ve got eyes on the target. No, do not engage, wait for my command.
” The man on the bench, gets up to throw the newspaper he was reading in the trashcan next to him.
He starts walking away, unaware he left his briefcase at the feet of the bench he was just at.
The man in the suit notices and runs after him.
“I’m in pursuit, follow my lead.” He catches up to the man and tackles him to the ground.
Swat cars swarm in and surround them. Lights flashing, men in tactical gear get out. “We have you surrounded, give up.”
The bell over the café door jingles bringing me out of my daydream.
I look towards the door to see a familiar face standing there, looking polished.
Her gaze greets mine and she starts walking my way.
She’s on the taller side, and put-together, the kind of girl who looks like she never has to try.
Bright hair frames her face—like she spends all her time in the sun—it cascades down her back in swirls.
Lipstick the exact shade of red you’d expect someone dangerous to wear.
She reaches my table and goes for the chair in front of me, “Mind if I sit?”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer before sliding into the chair.
“I’m Brielle,” she says smoothly, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And you’re Stassi, right?”
Something in her tone makes my skin prickle. “Yeah. We haven’t met.”
“Not officially.” She takes my coffee and stirs it lazily with the small spoon at the table, eyes never leaving mine. “But I’ve heard about you. You’ve gotten… close to Eryx. Been spending a lot of time with him from what I’ve seen.”
There it is.
My stomach knots, but I force a neutral shrug, I don’t let it show how much she’s annoying me with her insinuations.“We’re partners for a project, that’s all.”
Her laugh is soft, disbelieving. “Sure. But you know men like him don’t partner unless they want something. And Eryx…” She leans forward, her perfume cloyingly sweet. “Eryx wants what he wants. Until he doesn’t anymore.”
My heart thuds, but I force my voice steady. “And you would know that how?”
Her lips curve, slow and sharp. “Let’s just say I’ve… been there. I know what keeps his attention, and I can promise you—it isn’t someone like you.”
The words land heavy, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Instead, I tilt my head, studying her. “Funny. If you’re so sure he doesn’t want me, why are you here, warning me?”
For a split second, her smile falters, the mask cracking. Then it’s back, sharper than before. “Enjoy the game while you can, sweetheart. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you matter.”
“If that’s supposed to scare me, you’ll have to try harder.”
Her lips twitch, just slightly. “I’m trying to help you. You don’t look like the kind of girl who knows what she’s getting into.”
I smile sweetly. “Hmm, I do know desperate when I see it. Thanks for the coffee break, Brielle.”
The crack in her expression is brief, but I catch it. She stands, adjusting her bag like she hasn’t just wasted ten minutes trying to rattle me. “Suit yourself.”
She leaves, heels sharp against the tile. My coffee forgotten and her words swirling around me. Her nauseating perfume lingers around. I let the tension ease out of my shoulders then pull my phone out to send a text.
Me
You’ve got interesting taste in friends
Headache #1
***
Me
Bumped into Brielle
She made sure i knew she’s familiar with your sheets
Real charming girl
Headache #1
She said that?
Me
Oh, she said lots
Apparently you get bored easy… Should I be practicing cartwheels or something?
A pause. The typing bubble flashes, disappears, then returns.
Headache #1
You think you’re clever?
Me
I know I am
You might wanna keep your hoes in check… it’s messy PR for a guy like you
Another pause, longer this time.
Headache #1
She doesn’t matter. Don’t waste your time thinking about her.
Me
You know you keep saying that
But how’s that saying go?
Actions speak louder than words… and I’m yet to see any
Headache #1
That mouth. Need a reminder of what happened last time?
Me
Bite me
I smirk at the screen, tossing my phone back in my bag. If Brielle thought she scared me, she’ll be disappointed. And until I’m shown differently, I’ll take anything he says with a grain of salt. I won’t be made out a fool.
I get up to leave and I hear my phone buzz.
Headache #2
Oh princess
Princess where are you?
Me
What do you want Caine?
Headache #2
Come outside… We going out
Before I can ask how he knows where I’m at, he pulls up outside, windows down. I place an altoid in my mouth, take a deep breath, and go outside.
“Bestie, get in loca,” he sing songs.
I burst out laughing as I open the door and get in.
“Oh god, please don’t quote Twilight at me.”
He speeds down the street, the bass from his stereo vibrating all around me.
“You ready for the best day ever?”
“Will I need an alibi?”
“Would it be the best day ever, if you didn’t?”
“Touché,” I laugh.
The neon lights of the arcade wash everything in candy colors. Pinks, greens, blues that flash and strobe over glossy floors. Caine is already grinning like a devil, two tokens tucked between his fingers like poker chips.
“Ready to crush some twelve-year-olds at air hockey?” he asks, raising a brow.
I laugh, snatching one of the tokens from his hand. “You talk big for someone who’s about to lose.”
We spend hours bouncing from game to game.
I scream when I beat him at skee-ball, and he dramatically clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him.
He destroys me at racing games, leaning into the steering wheel like he’s actually on the track.
At one point, we’re both doubled over in front of a broken claw machine, arguing about whether it’s rigged or if I’m just cursed.
Somewhere between cotton candy and Dance Dance Revolution, I pull out my phone. The sight of Caine’s smug grin sparks an idea.
“You know what would make this even better?” I say, angling my phone toward him.
His eyes light with mischief. “Ah. Poking the bear.”
“Exactly.”
We huddle together for the first shot—me holding up a giant plush panda I just won, Caine leaning in with a ridiculous pout like he’s jealous of the stuffed animal. Click. Sent.
The first message comes through right away.
Headache #1
What the fuck is this?
Then one of him handing me a neon slushie, straw between my lips, his arm casually slung over my shoulders. Click. Sent.
Headache #1
Get his hands off you.
Now!
I angle the phone low during air hockey, catching the blur of his hand against the puck while I grin into the frame. Click. Sent.
My phone buzzes a few seconds later.
Headache #1
You think this is funny?
I bite my lip, fighting a laugh, and tilt the screen so Caine can see.
He snorts. “Let’s see how far we can push him.”
“Good,” I say, a little thrill running through me. “He deserves it.”
Caine throws an arm around me again as we walk toward the next game, his voice loud and conspiratorial. “Smile, sweetheart. Let’s really give him something to lose his mind over.”
Headache #1
You’re mine, Nastasya. Don’t test me.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling too wide. God, he’s mad. Deliciously mad.
Caine leans over, reading the texts over my shoulder. “He’s probably pacing holes in the floor right now. You want to send him one more? The kill shot?”
My pulse jumps. “What are you thinking?”
“Photo booth.”
Five minutes later, we’re crammed inside, the screen counting down. The first photo, we’re both pulling silly faces. The second, Caine kisses my cheek dramatically while I feign shock. The third, I’m laughing so hard my eyes are shut. I send him that strip.
The reply takes longer this time, and when it comes, it’s only three words.
Headache #1
You’re in trouble.
I shiver, tucking my phone away before Caine can see the way my face heats. Trouble never sounded so tempting.