I flinch, and a voice calls out, “Neve? What the hell are you doing in here?”
Annoyance fills my veins.
It’s not Cynthia.
It’s Tas.
THIRTY-TWO
NEVE
She steps into the room with wide eyes, but her expression changes when Faust pushes the door closed at her back, drowning out Slyth’s music and chorus of voices once more.
She’s seen Sylvan.
I can tell in how she lifts her chin, presses her lips into a pout, and narrows her eyes. “Moved on already?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound as confident as she’s pretending to be.
Truthfully, she should be. She looks gorgeous, her cheeks flushed from drinking, eyes sparkling in the dim lights, body flawless.
But standing in a circle of all four of us—me, Faust, her, and Sylvan—all I want to do is leave. I’m not embarrassed and I’m definitely not afraid of Tasia, but whatever just happened, I can’t analyze it here, with all of them.
“Maybe not,” Sylvan says, and when I jerk my head in his direction, I see him staring at his hand. He makes it look casual, like he’s examining his clean fingernail, but I know those are the fingers he had inside me.
Motherfucker.
“Oh?” Tasia’s surprise is in that one word, high-pitched as she darts her gaze to me.
I smile sweetly at her. She’s an idiot for getting herself involved with him again, but maybe so am I for letting it happen. “Go on,” I tell her. “I was just grinding against Faust.” I squeeze his arm and he’s rigid beneath me, probably not liking I’m using him as a pawn to save my ego, but he says nothing.
Tasia glances at him, then me again. “Were you?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe me.
I shouldn’t lie to her though. Sylvan’s fingers were just inside me. If anything, he needs to wash his fucking hands before he fucks around with both of us back-to-back.
“If you don’t mind being his second course, have at him.” There. I did my best to look out for her. Without another word to either of the boys or Tasia, I shove past Faust—this time, he lets me—and crash back into the lounge.
THIRTY-THREE
NEVE
Karter’s roommate is out of town and her condo isbig.
Not quite like Faust’s castle, but we can’t all be sponsored college hockey players, can we?
I sip on a canned vodka tonic as Karter tosses her seafoam green hair over one shoulder and leans into me, a beer in her hand.
“So, whatdidyou do with them in there?” She grins at me and the girl is clearly tipsy. Her green eyes are wide; mascara smudged on her upper lid. She’s gorgeous though, and if it wasn’t for my post-fingering bathroom visit at Slyth’s, my makeup would still be all over the place too.
I take another drink as Cynthia cackles from her spot on the chair opposite me and Karter in the all-white living room. White walls, white coffee table, white chair, white couches, but the dark paintings hanging all over the walls alongside the obsidian mouth mounted on one give the place a strangely Gothic vibe rather than a boring, sterile one.
I actually think I should do mine and Cyn’s living room like this. Add white paint to up the dark academia thing we have going on. Briefly, I wonder if Nolan would fund it. Tomorrow, Imake a mental note Ihaveto ask him about Buffalo and actually return his call if I want his money.
Nothing will come of my inquiry but he’s been hounding me for updates anyway.
I can’t avoid him forever, as much as sometimes I’d like to try. Am I a bitch for using him for funds? Maybe. But I have to deal with the mental burden of his overprotectiveness so it’s a fair exchange.
I feel someone staringhardat me and realize it’s Cyn, her gaze intense as she waits for me to answer Karter’s question.
“Same thing Tasia was doing?” Cynthia presses, and this time, she isn’t laughing.
