“I’ll wipe it up when we get back to the school.” I extend my hand for my seat belt as he speeds toward the hills where the Royal Academy is located.
Finn lets out a laugh as he turns on some music. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to have you clean out my car. That’s what detail service is for.”
Right. Why would he want me to clean out his car when he can pay someone to polish it up all nice for him?
Once again, the reality of this world smacks me across the face.
I turn my head and stare out the window, watching the rain pour down against the streets and splatter against the pavement.
“I like your ink,” Finn comments after a few streams of lyrics play.
I lift a brow at him. “Do you like it because you hardly ever see ink or because you actually like it?”
“So damn feisty,” he murmurs with a ghost of a smile. He thrums his fingers to the song’s rhythm as his gaze skims along the lines inking my thigh. “I like it because it’s nice work.”
“Finn’s a closet artist,” River explains from the back seat. He’s leaning back with his arms tucked underneath his head.
I wonder if he’s thinking about how we just kissed? Or has he kissed so much that kissing is an afterthought? I don’t know… Lily made it sound like he didn’t kiss a lot.
“I think, in another life, he’d try to make it as a tattoo artist,” River adds.
“What the hell, bro?” Finn blasts River with a half-joking glare. “Since when do you spill my secrets? That’s more of my thing.”
River blinks his gaze from the window. “Sorry, I zoned out and went on auto-pilot.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Although, it doesn’t make much sense to me why this is a huge secret. “Why does it even matter, anyway? And if you want to be one, why not just be one?”
“Because of responsibilities.” He pulls a face as he returns his focus to the road. “Being a tattoo artist isn’t an acceptable career.”
“Why? There’s some out there who are super talented and make bank.” From the corner of my eye, I note an older car that’s been modified but still looks oddly out of place for the glitzy streets of Royal City.
“It doesn’t matter if I make bank or not.” Finn shifts gears as he slows to a stop for a red light, and the older car comes to a stop, too. “What matters is that society sees me as something important, like a lawyer or CEO.” He sounds miserable as he speaks.
And I think I’m getting the gist. Apparently, on top of the Averson family forcing their oldest to marry the person of their choosing, they also force them into a certain career.
“Do you draw?” I wonder, rotating in the seat to face him.
The corners of his lips quirk as he slides me a glance. “If I answered yes, then I couldn’t remain a closet artist, could I?”
“Well, that’s no fun at all.” I rest my arms on the console and look back at River. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he replies questioningly with his gaze trained on the window.
“Are you a closet anything?” I ask, causing him to give me a what-the-hell look. I open my mouth to elaborate, but River abruptly goes rigid as he straightens in the seat.
“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath.
When I peer over my shoulder, a chill glazes through my veins.
Because Drew is climbing out of the older car parked beside us. He has on a black hoodie, holey jeans, and the hood is pulled over his head. I recognize his face, though, very clearly.
He also has a knife in his hand as he strides toward Finn’s car, puddles splashing under his worn boots.
“What the hell is this dumbass doing?” Finn asks as he cranks down the music.
“He’s here for me.” My stomach clenches as I utter the words.
Drew raps on the window. “Maddy, get out of the car. Now.”
