“How are you this much of a lightweight for your size?”
Cinn scrambled for a witty response but became paralysed by Julien’s grip on his arm. Julien’s captivating grey eyes locked on his. Julien’s dimples as he smirked.
“I…” he started, then pushed Julien off him to stride towards the next free taxi without looking back.
Julien laughed as he followed him, tugging off Cinn’s rucksack for him to hand to the driver. Then he slid into the back of the taxi, and Cinn bounced on the balls of his feet for several moments.
He should join him in the back, like a normal person.
But.
He needed to be as far away from Julien as possible while he was this plastered.
Cinn took the passenger seat in the front, sliding his beanie down over his eyes like that could make him disappear.
Once they’d sped off, Julien and the driver started a rapid exchange of French which, even in his inebriated state, he sensed was about him.
“Il a un problème votre ami?”
“Six, en réalité. Un voyage en avion traumatique et cinq double shots de whisky.”
By the end of the journey, a headache had replaced most of Cinn’s haziness. Looking out of the window, the soft glow of landmarks and winding foreign streets caused a tiny flicker of excitement to catch light within him. This was the third country he had ever set foot in—though he could barely count Switzerland, as he’d only been to Auri, Talwacht town centre, and the corner shop down the road from his house.
He managed to go the entire journey without saying a single word to Julien, and their silence continued as the taxi slowed down and came to a stop outside a black gate. Cinn climbed out—trying not to feel sickened by the enormous wad of notes Julien passed the driver—to find a single building on the road.
What the fuck?
To call the ‘house’ grand would be an understatement.
The elaborate carvings on its imposing facade bore a striking resemblance to the intricate stone detailing on London’s Natural History Museum, where he and Tyler had spent many an hour wandering around, mainly in the dinosaur section.
And the windows! There were too many of them to count, their expensive panes gleaming in the bright moonlight.
In the middle of two colossal flaming torches, a black metal gate adorned with intricate designs blocked their path. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, through the grates, Cinn saw the icing on the cake: water fountains.
Internally, he howled with laughter. How was this his life?
“Please tell me you don’t actually live here? It’s not a house, it’s a bloodypalace!”
Cinn had known Julien was rich, but this wasrich, rich. Filthy rich. Disgustingly rich.
Perhaps he should ask for the tiny scrap of aeroplane-ticket money back?
“It’s not as central as I’d prefer, personally. That’s the price my father pays for having an ostentatious mansion.” Julien slid a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, took a deep drag, and passed it to Cinn.
“Cheers.”
A long puff in, the cigarette’s tip flashing red, then Cinn tipped his head back and blew the smoke at the stars.
“But if my palace doesn’t suit you, there are many alleys you can test out. Just don’t blame me when you wake up naked.”
Cinn scoffed. “Are you telling meallFrench people are as sexually depraved as you?”
Julien accepted the offered cigarette, wrapping his lips around it with a deliberate sensuality that made Cinn want to rip it out of his mouth.
To put it back in his own mouth, of course.
Nothing else.
