“Girl power,” Daisy exclaims with a bright smile that carries so much energy. It lights up the whole room. “Come on.” She lets go of my hand and clasps Christina’s, swinging her arm as they reach the door. Christina immediately looks relieved and smiles with this newfound happiness.
Ian takes a step forward, and I put my hand on his chest.
“Don’t even fucking try.” That girl has to be fourteen or fifteen, and from what Daisy has told me about her weird night with him, I doubt he cares about that girl’s age.
He stays put, and then I follow the girls out, spotting my brother and Connor on the congested street already.
“Everyone is a giant!” Daisy howls into the night sky. Literally, like a wolf. “We’re in the land of tall people!”
Christina can’t stop laughing, and Daisy turns her head to see me watching.
I raise my brows at her like what the fuck are you doing? And she howls again and points at the full moon. “Like my mating call?” she asks me.
“I don’t see any fucking guys responding to it.”
“I do,” she says with a smile, staring right at me.
“Right. If that’s true, then I’ll be humping you later, sweetheart.” My eyes lighten a little more because this time—there is fucking truth to our banter.
“Doggy-style or are you just going to be grinding on my leg?”
“Not your leg.”
“Higher?”
“Well what’s the other alternative? I’m not going to fuck your ankles.”
She raises her hands in defense. “There are some people into feet.”
“I’m into pussy. Now you know.” My unfiltered response causes her to flush.
She grins. “I should howl more often then.” She’s cute. She always is. I’d kiss her if I could, but I need to check on my brother.
I glance over at Lo. He’s staring at the sky like he wishes he could settle among the stars for fucking eternity and never have to live this life. I hate that look. It’s one that I used to wear when I was fifteen, kicking shit over and screaming at the top of my lungs. I’d end up exhausted, collapsed on the grass of my yard, and I’d look up at the fucking sky and think what am I doing here? Why the fuck am I in this world? Living shouldn’t be this painful.
My life had no meaning until I decided to turn around and meet my brother.
I can’t lose him to this disease…or because of the choices I’ve made.
Connor has his hand on Lo’s shoulder, his lips moving like he’s talking him down from a fucking cliff. I feel like I put him there.
The traffic is gridlocked, taxis barely budging. We have a short walk back to the hotel, and most of the paparazzi have dispersed. Instead, the streets are full of sports fans, those red and white jerseys everywhere.
In the distance, the Eiffel Tower glows green. The screen on the front of the fucking mammoth structure plays footage from the Rugby World Cup.
When I glance back at Daisy, her smile is gone. She shrugs at me and then turns to Christina, whispering in her ear. I wish she had no affiliation to my brother. I wish they never knew each other—then all of this would be so fucking simple.
The girls start watching a couple guys bicker by the curb, fighting about women or maybe the rugby game. I can’t tell from here, but they’re drunk, spitting out their insults and puffing out their chests.
The construction nearby forces people to draw closer than they normally would. Scaffolding juts out from the pub next door, losing space, and plywood and other materials are thrown around the cement, covering divots and potholes.
“Hey, let’s head back,” I tell Daisy.
She nods to me but doesn’t take her eyes off the growing fight. More and more people push onto the sidewalk, separating me from my little brother. I weave in between guys to reach him. Most are models and beefy fans. I even spot a portly guy doing a keg stand, his feet held up by his friends. His jersey falls to his neck, and his large stomach lolls over his jeans. His friend jiggles his fat while they all laugh.
When I near Lo, Connor steps aside a little, but my brother looks pained as he meets my eyes. “You shouldn’t have had that whiskey,” he says, his eyes glassing with remorse. Not I’m sorry. Those two words barely exist in his vocabulary, so I wasn’t fucking expecting them.
“One glass isn’t going to make me fucking addicted, Lo.”
He rubs his lips and lets out a bitter, dry laugh. “Lucky you.” He cringes at his sharp words and just shakes his head.