Page 25 of Lilies from Hell

Then, with a sly smile, he continues saying something I can’t hear. My attention is still focused on those drawings and foreign words in his notebook. Is he doing voodoo on me? I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. And what was written in that damn notebook?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, just my stuff.” I smile, showing my teeth.

I finish my drink and search for a free seat. In the distance, I see some outdoor chairs next to a round table covered with glasses and cigarette butts. There I find his father, Kristoff, again. He’s chatting with his friends while caressing the back of a brunette sitting on his lap with her breasts exposed. Another girl, a little younger, is behind him, massaging his shoulders with a stupid smile. My stomach churns with disgust as he French-kisses the girl on his lap, squeezing her breasts.

Despite everyone knowing about his relationship with Lizzie, the blonde model, no one seems to care. Plus, she’s probably aware of his other… partners. It’s no secret how womanizers they are. They hardly ever marry anyone, and if they do, it’s the daughter of someone important, to keep up appearances and have heirs to leave their empire to.

My father is the exception to all that. He married my mother out of love and doesn’t want me or Jas involved in his illicit activities, unless I secretly go along with him on deliveries. He wouldn’t be able to marry me off for power, either. The times someone has been brave enough to ask his permission to date me, the lucky guy left in blood and tears.

I wonder if his charming son is as much of a womanizer as he is. Perhaps that blonde girl is his girlfriend, although as far as I remember he’s single. Or was. My stomach churns with jealousy at the thought of him with someone else. Because I want to have this house at my disposal and all that crap Jas said earlier, not because I care who he sleeps with.

Before I take another step, someone calls my name behind me. When I turn around, I find none other than Liam. A French guy with brown hair and shit-brown eyes who I dated for a few months in my early college years. He now lives in France with his mother, but some summers he comes back to be with his father. I return his greeting with a fake smile. His clothing style is still as extravagant as when we first met.

“How’s everything? I haven’t seen you in a long time.” There is a reason for that.

“Very well, thank you. And you? When did you get back?”

“A few days ago. But this time I plan to stay a little longer,” I nod my head, cursing my luck. “I’d really like us to get back to how we were before.” His shyness makes me purse my lips in a pout.

“You cheated on me,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone, his cheeks now flushing.

“No! Fuck. I didn’t.”

“I saw it myself. I saw the photos.” Photos that circulated throughout the college, making those weeks a nightmare for me.

He was the one who appeared in those images worthy of a porn account, but even so, everyone focused their mockery on me. They insinuated I was a prude and that his actions were more than justified because I didn’t want to give myself to him. A man has needs. He wasn’t going to wait for you forever. It was a comment from a girl in his class.

I was afraid of what he would think of me after discovering my peculiar tastes. That was one reason the rest of them didn’t know. No one gives me the confidence I need to open up like that. At least not someone who would notice me and want me alive.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he says, making those blue eyes disappear from my head in the blink of an eye.

“I will not argue the same thing with you again,” I retort, turning away.

“No, wait,” he murmurs in a pleading tone as he holds my arm. “Let me explain what happened. I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“Yeah, right, typical bullshit excuse.”

“No…” I pull my arm hard, releasing it from his grip with a sharp pain in my shoulder and a scowl on his face.

“Piss off,” I hiss through gritted teeth, leaving him hanging.

I’m so irritated that I barely notice the nearly bare trees and the fading, dry bushes. I stop at a lake with crystal-clear water that contrasts with the insects and lifeless flowers floating on the surface. The garden isn’t badly kept. It’s almost as if someone wanted it to be that way on purpose, surrounded by death in which you can find some beauty.

I let out a long breath, allowing the air and the views to calm me down a little, until I notice someone else a few meters to my left. It takes less than a second for my wildly beating heart to recognize him before my own eyes do.

I bite my lower lip, trying not to stare at his half-naked body like a pervert. Everything I had planned to say to him goes out the window when I notice how he angrily flings the ashes from his cigarette onto the grass. Unaware of my presence. When I want to turn around and leave, my lips have already started to move by themselves.

“You shouldn’t throw ashes on the ground. Besides, smoking is bad for your health.” He just turns his head and gives me a sidelong glance before fixing his gaze back in front of him, paying no attention to me. “No wonder all the plants are dead if you keep poisoning them with your cigarettes.”

“Excuse me?” The words get stuck in my throat as his angry eyes lock onto mine. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’m in my own fucking house.”

“You don’t have to be so rude. I’m just trying to be nice,” I mutter through clenched teeth and with my arms crossed. My nails dig into my forearms as the rage in his eyes makes them darken. I look away, not wanting him to notice how uncomfortable I feel being alone with him.

“I haven’t gone to where you are to tell you what not to do. Maybe you’re the rude one.” He throws the rest of his cigarette onto the grass. “And I haven’t asked you to be nice to me. So save it for yourself.”

That hurts, but even though I feel strangely uncomfortable inside, my tongue seems to have a mind of its own.