Me: Same old. Mall. Shops. People.
Cal: Why are you at the fucking mall?
Across the street, Blair turns her head slightly, scanning the crowd before she refocuses on her mom as she talks intently about fashion choices and which stores they need to go to next.
Cal: KANE
Just my name. All caps. No punctuation. That’s Cal’s version of a raised eyebrow.
Me: So, funny story, I might not be in Concordia…
Cal: Where the fuck are you?
I grimace as I type the truth.
Me: Rich suburbs. Boston side.
Cal: What in the fuck are you doing near Boston?
Because of her.It’s all because of her. Ever since last night, she’s all I can think about. She’s all I can sense. She’s the only fucking thing on my goddamn mind.
I don’t answer right away because answering feels like admitting something I’m not ready to admit.
But then, something happens. For the first time in Holland Thorne’s miserable fucking existence, he actually helps me. Across the street from where Blair stands on the sidewalk chatting with her mom and sister, Holland the slimefuck approaches from the valet stand. He looks like a douche in loafers and khakis and shiny Ray-Bans on his face.
He, of course, is showcasing that easy smile of his while his goons Mark and Evan flank him on either side.
At the sight of him, Blair and Devney smile, and even Bonnie offers a wave.
Clearly, the whole fucking Windsor family knows him.
That twist in my gut clenches tighter.
Holland kisses Devney’s cheek like he belongs in her world. He speaks to Blair. She laughs and smiles like she hasn’t a clue the true piece of shit that he is.
Cal: KANE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING RIGHT NOW?
It takes all my willpower to pull my attention away from Blair, but I manage to send Cal a quick message.
Me: Relax. I came here on a little bit of a whim, but it worked out. Slimefuck is here with his two goons.
He knows who Slimefuck is instantly.
Cal: Keep eyes on him.
Across the street, Holland leans in close to Blair, saying something low. Her expression shifts—excited, pleased, proud.
Devney nods, and a satisfied smile crests her mouth. Bonnie still looks bored. Frankly, I don’t know the kid, but goddamn, she’s growing on me. I’d be bored out of my mind if I had to stand there listening to Holland Thorne prattle on.
I open my ears and try to listen.
Something abouttomorrow.
New York.
A penthouse.
Damien Snow.
