“It was never about the money,” I shook my head, thrusting it closer to him, like the bills were filthy, like they might infect me if I held onto them any longer.
Roger sighed, slow and deliberate, before finally taking the money from my hand. “Of course,” he said. “Austin Portwood doesn’t need this, does he? Daddy’s pockets never run dry. Not when they own a couple hundred hotels across Europe.”
Heat flared behind my eyes. I bit down hard on my teeth, forcing the anger back before it could spill out in a way I couldn’t take back. “So we’re good?” I asked, my voice flat.
“You can’t outrun this,” Roger replied calmly. “You know that, right? You came to me looking for something. Power. Respect. Freedom. Isn’t that right?” His eyes held mine. “I guess you learned the hard way that none of those things come without a price.”
I kept my gaze locked on his, even as my hands curled into fists at my sides. “It was nice knowing you,” I said, turning away before he could respond.
“Just remember this,” Roger called after me, his voice carrying easily through the concrete space. “You might be out for now. But never forget, it was you who killed that kid, Austin.” I froze. “I know it,” he continued. “You know it. And the cops will know it too, if they ever decide to ask me directly.”
The words followed me all the way back to my car.
9
I was beginning to think that Austin was full of shit.
Sure, he had said all the right words. He had given me all the right feelings. He had given me butterflies I hadn’t even believed were real, the kind that only existed in cheesy movies and exaggerated stories. He had proven the chemistry between us wasn’t imagined, but completely tangible. He had been a gentleman. He had been creative. Observant. He had been perfect. So why did I think he was full of shit? The answer was simple. I hadn’t heard from him in over a week.
“Why can’t you just text him?” Cherry muttered through my phone speaker.
Her voice was groggy, like she had just woken up. Even though it was almost one in the afternoon, that didn’t surprise me. Cherry would sleep the day away if she could. She would gladly rise when the sun disappeared and live her life in moonlight if given the chance. I had already been up for hours, which was just another reminder that we were complete opposites.
“Why would I?” I muttered, staring up at my ceiling. “Why do I even care? This is embarrassing. I’m embarrassing myself.”
“It’s just weird,” Cherry hummed. “I mean, from everything you told me, he sounded like he planned on seeing you again. He wouldn’t even kiss you. That doesn’t exactly scream "hit it and quit it.”
My face tightened at her words, the faintly misogynistic undertone rubbing me the wrong way. “Maybe he just wasn’t that into me.”
“Good lord, Blair,” Cherry sighed. “I’ve told you this and I’ll tell you a thousand times more. You’re beautiful. You’re kind. You’re generous. You’re perfect. You should try to remember that.”
I felt the edge of my self pity soften at her words. I tried to let them sink in, to really absorb them instead of brushing them off like I usually did. I repeated them silently. I’m beautiful. I’m kind. I’m… I didn’t get to finish the thought. The sharp sound of the doorbell startled me, pulling me out of my head completely. I stayed still, listening instead, hoping to hear footsteps that meant someone else in the house would answer it so I wouldn’t have to move from the impossibly comfortable position I was in. When I heard them, I let out a quiet breath of relief.
“So you really don’t want to do anything tonight?” Cherry’s voice rang through my phone. “This is, like, the only Saturday night we’ll have off all summer, knowing Greg.”
I rolled her words around in my head. She was right. I knew she was. But after everything that had happened the last time we went out, I didn’t want to be anywhere except my bed. “Why don’t you come over here instead?” I tried. “We can watch—”
“Blair! Honey!” My mother’s voice cut through the air before I could finish. It was firm but calm, which was a perfect summary of her in general. “There’s someone at the door for you.”
My brows lifted in confusion as my mind scrambled for an answer. I came up empty. The only person who ever showed up at my house unannounced was the person currently on the other end of the phone.
“I have to go,” I muttered into the speaker.
Cherry sighed. “Okay, but promise me you’re not going to sit around moping over this guy. You, Blair Evanston, deserve tomope over absolutely no one. And for the record, you could get any guy you wanted—”
“Cherry, bye,” I laughed, ending the call just as she took a breath, no doubt preparing another speech.
Curiosity buzzed through me as I left my room, bounding down the stairs with a new kind of urgency. My dad stood near the front door, his arms folded loosely across his chest as he spoke to whoever was outside, a polite smile fixed on his face. My confusion only deepened as I drew closer.
“Well, I know West Bridge is a great school,” my dad was saying. “I wish we could’ve sent Blair and Holden there, of course, but the tuition just wasn’t realistic.”
My stomach dropped. Standing in the doorway, listening attentively to my father with an easy smile on his face, was Austin. Something in his expression shifted when he saw me. It was subtle, fleeting, but I caught it. He looked different tonight. The leather jacket was gone, which made sense in the heat, but his blond hair was neater than I’d ever seen it, styled with intention instead of habit. Then his lips curved into the familiar smirk I had already learned to expect, his blue eyes widening just slightly as they met mine.
“Yellow,” he said, using the nickname with effortless confidence, like he didn’t care in the slightest that my father was standing right there.
“Um,” was all I managed, my body still stunned by the fact that he was actually here. At my door. Like this.
“Ah, Blair,” my dad said, turning toward me. There was no suspicion in his expression. No concern. Just trust, as there always was. “You didn’t tell me your friend was stopping by.”
