“But never to you,” he murmurs.
Chills cover my body at his reverent words, but I still feel the need to say to him,"Will you please stop starting fights? If you haven't noticed, I like to keep a low profile."
"He started it by being too close to you. I finished it. And livingston? Don't think there's a single thing I don't notice about you, baby."
LIVY
Sparkles is sprawled across the navy hoodie Sebastian left behind like she personally claimed it as territory. I always catch him pouting at her when she’s taking my attention from him, but he’d never hurt an animal. I can tell that about him. People? I wouldn’t put money on that bet.
Sparkles is also very picky about the men she comes in contact with and treats them all according to how she feels about them. She demands scratches from Kalen, which he begrudgingly gives her. She body slams Jeremy whenever he stops by and he always plays with her, careful not to be too rough. Today when Sebastian brought me home from the library, we ended up cuddling on my bed and making out for far longer than was necessary to say goodbye. Sparkles nudged my door open and got on the bed, letting out a low woof to let us know that snuggle time was over for us. She squeezed between us and used Sebastian’s chest as her own personal dog bed. I have seen a lot of emotions on that man’s face since I met him, but flabbergasted was not one of them until today.
The sweatshirt fabric is pooled in the middle of my bed, and Sparkles has somehow managed to curl herself directly into the hood like it was designed specifically for her. She’s very petite fora Dalmatian, but it has me questioning just how big Sebastian’s skull is. Her spotted tail thumps lazily against my mattress while she buries her nose into the front pocket where I suspect he stashed some after practice snacks recently. She lets out a content little huff before settling deeper into the fabric for a nap.
Four girls, including myself, are crammed into my bedroom while we all get ready for the rugby game tonight. I’m trying to just relax about the flowers.
My room feels smaller than usual with everyone congregated in it. Juniper is now sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the long mirror on my back door while Lakynn stands behind her braiding sections of her long brown hair into a loose, messy plait that somehow looks effortless and elegant at the same time. It was my idea to invite Lakynn. Sebastian told me everything about how he and Riven have some kind of understanding and that he and his wife are new to St. Killian also. He apparently plays hockey, and she told me she grew up on a farm.
Juniper took to Lakynn right away and handed her a brush, saying, “Do my hair like yours, I can’t braid for shit.” Miranda was more standoffish, trying to act like we have some sort of elite sisterhood within our little group, but when Juniper and I didn’t join in, she stopped with that nonsense.
Miranda is perched on my desk chair applying glitter eyeliner with the kind of concentration that suggests she’s preparing for battle rather than a sporting event. I try to act busy, even though I’m already dressed and ready to go. She’ll hold me down and put glitter on me if I look like I don’t have anything to do.
Juniper stands up and smooths her outfit down while Lakynn adds a cute sage green bow to the end of the braid. I watch as Lakynn slips on a light pink shirt over her tank top. It has a brighter pink bow on it and says Bows and Bull Riders under it in cute scripty writing.
She looks adorable with her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun and pink satin bow securing it.
“I love your shirt,” I tell her.
“Thanks. This girl who went to my husband’s college has a website where she makes the cutest custom sports jerseys in pink. It’s kind of become a big thing back home. I found this on there and couldn’t resist.” She smiles, and I can’t help but return the gesture. She seems genuinely nice. Sebastian told me that her and her husband had to leave their hometown because of a situation kind of like mine. He said they changed their names and everything, but were okay with our little group knowing their real names. I won’t have a hard time sticking to the script if I’m ever with them around people who don’t know. Secrecy and hiding has been my thing for the longest time. I get it, and I’m sad for her that she had to go through anything traumatic at all.
When Juniper walks over to, hopping on one foot as he puts her black high heel on, Miranda immediately tilts her head, narrowing her eyes.
“Did Kalen pick that out?” Her tone makes it obvious she’s trying to embarrass her, and I open my mouth to tell her to knock it off, but I don’t get the opportunity.
Juniper doesn’t even blink. “He did,” she says calmly. “He picked my underwear out also, if you want to inspect them too.”
Miranda rolls her eyes, clearly not amused. I look over at Lakynn, worried that she’s getting a horrible first impression, but she’s biting her lip, trying not to laugh as she jams bobby pins in her bun.
“What does he even get out of deciding everything for you? It’s kind of weird.” Miranda says, pulling her nose up, and I’ve had about enough of this shit.
Juniper shrugs lightly because she doesn’t care, and she obviously isn’t going to tell Miranda why Kalen likes picking out her clothes and shoes and paying for all of her things.
“That’s between them, and they’re both consenting adults, so why is it even a question?” I snap, and Miranda looks at me incredulously because I don’t usually call her out.
Miranda purses her lips like she wants to say something snide, but I give her the same look right back. Because I’ve dealt with a lot of horrible people in my life, and a jealous girl who can’t keep a boyfriend isn’t even going to make the cut.
I’m satisfied when she turns back around to finish putting her makeup on, but then her mouth opens as her eyes drift upward. “Um, what the hell is that?”
She points toward the top corner of my wall.
I follow her finger.
There’s a tiny black dot tucked just beneath the molding near the ceiling.
For a second my brain doesn’t process it.
Then my stomach drops.
“What the fuck is happening?” I whisper.
