“I offered to rent you a room.”
“Right.” I nod. “And I’m undecided on that, so I’m hoping to milk one last free stay while I make my decision, and I’ll let everyone know what my plan is tomorrow.”
“You’ve been milking me for years already, Elena. What’s one more?”
I attempt to swallow my laugh, but it comes out through my nose. I clamp a hand over my face to cover my snort. August scoffs like I’m ridiculous, but when he rubs his jaw, I can tell he’s fighting a smile too.
My eyes snag on the fading ink stretched across the back of his wrist. Dotted stars, connected by straight lines that outline the Leo constellation.
“You still have it?” I ask, chasing the thought aloud before I can stop myself.
His brows knit, following my gaze as he twists his arm to look at the tattoo. “Yeah?” He frowns. “Why would I get rid of it?”
I’m never goingto look at a representation of you on my skin and wish it wasn’t there.
Words I’d saidto him years ago, words drenched in naivety by a young girl who believed the foundation of her most cherished friendship was unbreakable.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I assumed you’d regret it by now.”
August’s eyes drop as he chews his inner cheek. He runs a hand across the ink, saying more to himself than to me, “I don’t regret them. I don’t regret any of it.”
“Any of it?” I ask.
“The relics on my skin.” He drops his arm. “The friendship.” Lifting his head, he meets my gaze. “The love. And perhaps I ought to, perhaps that’s half the guilt, but I don’t.”
August pushes off the banister, and my breath halts in my lungs, holding itself hostage as he closes the distance between us, towering above me with fierce emotion raging in his green eyes. “I don’t regret loving you,” he whispers, and my eyes fall shut as the depth of his voice rattles my bones. “But I do believe I’d regret ever doing so again.”
If his voice rattles me, his words crumble me, grinding those very bones to dust.
“So, as long as you live here, we are roommates. Ships passing in the night. Nothing more.” The bite in his tone latches onto my being, tearing through whatever fragments of my soul might’ve been left intact.
My instinct is always to hide my emotions, swallow back my tears, but I don’t do that this time. I open my eyes, forcing him towatch as a rogue bead slips down my cheek, the aftermath of his destruction.
I force him to see the effect only he has on me, because while his most lethal weapon is his words, mine is reflecting the pain they cause.
11
VIOLET
“LOOKING BACK” - LORD HURON
“That’s really not necessary,”Elena mutters from behind me.
I don’t turn around, and I don’t stop emptying out my liquor cabinet and placing the few bottles I keep into a box. Mostly wine I’ve been gifted over the years, and a bottle of rum Leo left here after his piña colada phase.
“I’m not a fucking alcoholic, Augustus,” she all but growls, appearing beside me when I don’t stop.
“Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that you were using alcohol as a coping mechanism, and at the very least, that’s concerning. I won’t enable your behavior while you’re staying here, and I don’t drink anyway.”
I finish packing the box, lift it into my arms, and turn to face her. She’s scowling at me, lips curled into a perfect pout that’s a little too goddamn reminiscent of the way they once looked covered in my cum.
I scowl back.
I brush past her, carrying the liquor out to my truck and tossing it into the bed. When I re-enter the house, Elena’s prattling in the kitchen. She’s stomping, slamming cabinet doors, sulking as I know she does. Finally, she throws open the pantry—I’m assuming in search of tea—and stops short.
She frowns, brows knitting together in confusion, as she stares down the pretzels, Oreos, peanut butter, and Earl Grey tea I stocked the pantry with. Once she opens the fridge, she’ll find that I also filled it with baby carrots, sweet pickles, and the microwavable chow mein she loves.
“I don’t believe that you keep your house stocked with peanut butter, Oreos, or Earl Grey on the regular.”
