“I just know where the fun is at all times,” he says with a smile.
Rayne, Hunter, and Weston come downstairs at the same time, and I realize that’s another thing that’s flipped itself upside down in my life, too.
When I see Weston and Hunter, I feeltrust.
I have brothers that I actually trust. I don’t care if they’re half-brothers, and I don’t care that I only met them when we were all in college already.
They actually care about me.
Just another thing that makes my life feel fucking surreal right now.
Like I don’t deserve it.
Like I couldn’t possibly deserve any of this.
But for years, I listened to that voice in my head that told me I didn’t deserve to be around good people. I believed it. And all it got me was a steady stream of shitty situations, and all I ever did was get involved with people like Callum.
Who’s now going to be in jail for years.
So maybe, for once, I shouldn’t listen to my own doubts.
I should just charge ahead, even if I don’t know where I’m going.
Even if it’s scarier than being alone, sometimes.
“In your head again?” Ollie says close to my ear, pressing a little kiss to my neck.
“Pretty sure you’re a mind reader.”
“No. I just pay attention to you.”
The best part is the simplest.
When I’m with him, I don’t have the instinct to disappear, anymore.
The New Year’sparty is nothing like the winter formal party.
It’s about half the size. The lighting is dim. It’s held in the Colossus dining hall, but all of the tables and chairshave been cleared out, making room on the big, wooden floor for people to dance.
It’s smaller than the ballroom at Student Hall.
Each stained glass window high up above the wooden beams in the room has a little glowing light in it, and each chandelier is lit in a low light, too. Strings of golden twinkle lights fall from the ceiling in little cascades.
If the winter formal was like a massive, expensive high school prom on steroids, the New Year’s party is more like…
Something out of a Victorian fantasy novel.
Like we’re in some sort of magical place.
Like you wouldn’t be surprised to see a tiny fairy flitting around up there somewhere near the tall ceiling, spreading pixie dust onto everyone below.
Oliver’s wearing a plum-colored suit and I’m in slate grey.
He looks fucking incredible, because he always does.
I slide a hand under his jacket and squeeze his hip, tucking my fingertips past his waistband a little.
“Grey’s a good color on you,” he tells me.
