He stretches his arm out and reaches for a strand of my long, dark hair. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger lazily. His hazy eyes reach mine. “Isn’t often I interact. Don’t let the stares bother you,”
It’s like he can read my mind. Am I that easily read? I’m not surprised in the slightest that he doesn’t interact with people. He’s intimidatingly, hair-raisingly frightening.
I swallow thickly and pull my hair over my opposite shoulder out of his reach. “Why is that?” I dare ask, taking another drink of the shitty beer, choking it down. My leg bounces restlessly.
A sinister smirk plays over his lips. His eyes hood and he digs out a cigarette from his hoodie pocket, lighting it between his lips. The tip burns a cherry red. “Do you really wanna know the answer to that, songbird?” His lip twitches.
He inhales and holds for what feels like forever before he blows out a plume of smoke in my direction.
I croak out “I don’t know” and place my beer down on the sticky, cluttered end table next to me. I scan around for a coaster, though I doubt he would even bother. My parents taught me manners so, might as well ask. “Got a coaster?”
He sneers. “Does it look like I’d have a fuckin’ coaster?”
He blows out smoke rings, making my eyes water, and I cough. Then he leans his head back against the sofa, keeping his gaze upturned. “Not a smoker? Can’t be with a voice like that, huh?”
I freeze. It’s one thing to know what I’m majoring in, it’s entirely another to know the quality of my singing voice. It was him. It has to be. He was the one hiding in the shadows.
I remain stoic, refusing to wear my fear on my sleeve. “Nope,” I reply calmly. I run my fingers over the rough, ripped fabric of the couch to calm the fear threatening to surface.
He chuckles darkly and extinguishes the cigarette on the arm of the couch. Burn holes stamp the armrest. He glances over in my direction and our eyes meet again.
“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?” My lip curls upward in disgust as I scoff.
He lets out a rumbling sigh. “No,” he rasps under his breath so quietly over the bass I almost miss it. His gaze is trained forward, past the mass of people, as he peers out the large bay window.
“Why didn’t she?” I ask, dumbfounded, while following his gaze to the empty street out front.
His face darkens. An unbalanced, manic expression takes over. He springs forward out of his seat so fast I have no time to react. One hand comes down on the armrest, and the other slams against the headrest behind me, locking me in place. He gets in my face, so close I feel his hot breath against my cool skin. I lean back, hoping the couch will swallow me whole so I can escape the clutches of a monster. His gray eyes bore into me with intensity. “Because I never fucking had one,” he says sharply before pushing off the sofa.
The room has somehow gone silent at the last minute. The music is cut off, and Kieran stalks forward from the crowd, clasping Zain on theshoulder. Clara observes from the sidelines with a drink in hand, watching everything unfold.
Zain shrugs him off violently. “Fuck off,” he bites before staggering upstairs. My cheeks flame. I am dying from embarrassment. Kieran looks at me, pure ire on his face. “The fuck did you say to set him off?”
I shake my head, puzzled. “Nothing. I swear. I just said, ‘Didn’t your mother teach you manners.’ I was only teasing him.” I wave my hands wildly.
Kieran taps two fingers against his temple before pointing at me. “The guy doesn’t have a family. His upbringing was shit,” he explains, shaking his head like that’s known information. As if I would have known such a thing. Zain is an Elite. Why would I assume he had a bad upbringing?
“He gets set off easy,” Kieran grits out through his teeth, bringing it down a notch.
Clara shoots me a sympathetic look. It’s her fault I’m here in the first place, but I can’t be upset at her. None of this is her fault. These guys are ticking time bombs. Both of them.
Kieran waves flippantly at everyone. “Alright, alright. Party’s on. Stop gawking.” He cues the music back on.
I shuffle over towards Clara. “I’m going to apologize. I didn’t realize,” I say quickly.
She nods as Kieran grasps her wrist and reels her into his chest. He nips at her neck. “Wanna go upstairs again, I want to taste you,” he murmurs against her jugular, planting kisses there.
She pleads with her eyes, begging me to stay a little longer. It’s hard sometimes watching my friend, a train wreck, continue to go faster when it’s inevitable she’s bound to derail. Still, I nod solemnly.
She disappears upstairs, and I wait a long while before I head to the second floor in search of Zain. He needs time to cool off. If I were less of a decent person, I’d turn back and leave everyone behind. They’re all adults, but I just can’t.
I grip the broken banister and trudge up the stained steps. I have no idea which room is his, so I wing it. What could go wrong?
Ibury my face in the pillow as my mind starts to go numb. Just the way I like it. The haze overtakes my psyche. I popped a few Xannies earlier, and I’m feelin’ it. My thoughts of her float around my subconscious, drowning out my inner demons. It’s true she doesn’t know my past, otherwise she’d run. Run as far as her long legs can carry her instead of running into the arms of a depraved villain.
An ear-piercing scream distracts my high. It takes me a minute to process it. It isn’t your typical fuckin’ scream. Kieran better not be making his bitch bleed on the carpet again. It’s a fuckin’ bitch to get out and people ask questions. I attempt to propel off the bed and land on all fours instead, crashing into the chaotic mess on the floor.
Gotta get it together, Zain.
