“Like what, someone attacks me? Been there, done that, have the ECG report with a lapse in activity to prove it.” The joke tumbles from my lips before I have a chance to swallow it down.
My gut thrashes, matching the intensity in my brother’s eyes.
He doesn’t say anything.
He never does.
I exhale, my tongue thick as it sticks to the roof of my mouth. “I’m just saying, I could get hurt anywhere. You can’t guarantee my safety in New York City any more than you can King’s Trace, so what’s the point of you staying?”
Turning, he leans against the sink, cocking an eyebrow. “You don’t think you’re any safer with me than you are alone?”
“But I’m not even going to be alone. I have roomies, remember?”
Scoffing, Boyd looks out the door to the empty hallway of our suite. “Right. Because they’ve been great companions so far.”
He’s not wrong; even though school guidelines require roommates to stick together during group outings, Aurora and Mellie have been content to leave me every chance they’ve gotten. Although, I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I refuse to engage in polite conversation with the two overly enthusiastic girls.
Or maybe it’s because I’m still the awkward new girl from the “wrong side of town” where my classmates are concerned. You can take the girl out of the trailer and stuff a bunch of money into her bank account, but that doesn’t mean your peers will stop seeing you as trash.
I shouldn’t care what they think, I know. But my freedom hinges on their willingness to attend things with me. Boyd would never leave me here otherwise.
“It’s one night,” I say, leaning back and spreading my fingers out on the mattress. “If something goes wrong while you’re gone, then you never have to let me out of your sight again.”
He stares at me in silence for a long time, roving over my face as if trying to commit it to memory. I fidget, the fear that he’ll say no palpable as it notches down my spine, making me sit up straight.
I attempt a smile, kicking out my legs and crossing one over the other. Prim and proper, the picture of ease in my oversized Grateful Dead hoodie and fuzzy purple socks.
Maybe if I at least try to pretend I’m not nervous, he’ll believe it.
Perception is reality, or whatever bullshit his girlfriend Fiona is always spewing.
Finally, when it feels like I might die under his perusal, my brother heaves a leaden breath, pushing off the counter as he comes back into the room. He lifts his arm, the sleeve falling back slightly, and checks the massive Rolex strapped to his wrist.
“Phone calls every hour, on the hour until you’re in bed for the night.” He drops his hand, pointing a long finger at me. “If I don’t hear from you, I’m on the first flight back here. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that no matter where you’re at, I’ll find you.”
Excitement bubbles up in my chest, and I leap off the bed, skipping over to wrap him in a hug. My forehead barely touches his collarbone, his muscles tensing as my arms encircle his waist.
One of his hands comes down, resting between my shoulder blades; a whisper of a touch, the way you handle something fragile that’s been broken before. As though the fractures haven’t fully healed, and you’re afraid that any pressure might split them wide open again.
I pull away before he can feel the phantom sutures unraveling, and paste a wide, fake smile on my face. There’s no telling if he believes it or not, but at least he doesn’t comment further.
Later, after I’ve ushered Boyd into the back of a cab before he could change his mind, I rush back up to the hotel suite and am just coming out of the bathroom when Aurora and Mellie return. Both girls have a myriad of shopping bags draped over their forearms, and they drop them off en route to the bedroom they’ve been sharing, disappearing the second I step into view.
Resentment burns in my throat, but I stuff it down, turning left and heading to my room. I flop onto the mattress, already regretting sending my brother away.
I mess around on my laptop for a bit, working on a website mock-up for my professional portfolio—the one I’m collecting in case I decide I want to apply to any design programs after high school.
It was a suggestion of an old therapist that I find a hobby after my assault and my mother’s death left me emotionally stagnant, and so for the last two years, I’ve been dabbling in web design.
I’m no expert, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t boost my serotonin levels significantly.
A knock on the door pulls me from my screen, and I sit up, pushing the laptop onto the mattress as Mellie pokes her head in.
Her platinum-blonde hair is streaked with royal blue, and she tucks a piece of it behind her ear as she quickly glances around the room.
“Mr. Kelly’s gone?” she asks, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes at the formality. Like I don’t know every girl I go to school with masturbates to the thought of my brother.
I could hear Aurora getting off to him in her imagination last night while she showered, the sounds of her pleasure obvious in the shared living space. He heard it too, and promptly called his girlfriend and went to the lobby to talk to her.
“Left a little while before you guys got back,” I say, voice flat, picking up my phone from the bedside table. I unlock it, scrolling aimlessly through social media apps, trying to pretend as though her presence doesn’t unnerve me.
“Awesome.” Pushing the door open all the way, Mellie bursts into the room, dragging a long dry-cleaning bag behind her. Unzipping it, she pulls out a scrap of dark-green silk fabric and tosses it my way. “Quick, put this on.”
I catch the garment, furrowing my brows as I clutch the soft material. “What is it?”
“It’s a dress, you troll.” Aurora strolls inside, her deeply bronzed skin glowing against the sparkly, hot pink number she’s wearing. The sequined hem hits her mid-thigh, showing off her toned calf muscles, and she’s in the middle of pinning her black, curly hair up.
“Ror,” Mellie scolds, offering me an apologetic smile.
Aurora rolls her brown eyes, shrugging as she turns to look in the mirror. “Oh, come on. Riley knows I’m joking. But what kind of question is that?”
Heat sears my cheeks, and the scar on one pulses to life. I finger the green fabric, noting the plunging neckline as I spread it over my lap.
“This is really fancy,” I say slowly, confusion worming through my brain. “We went to the opera last night, and Le Bernardin the night before… what do we need to get dressed up for tonight?”
“It’s a charity event.” Aurora arches a brow. “You’re familiar with charity, right?”
My eye twitches.
“Because your brother’s girlfriend’s family hosts a lot of fundraisers,” she continues, a little grin tugging at the side of her mouth. I want to smack it off her.
It’s true, at least—the Ivers family is a staple of generosity back home, and Boyd’s girlfriend, Fiona, is the figurehead for fundraising ever since her mom passed.
But still, I don’t believe that’s what Aurora meant.
“Yeah, I guess you could say I’m used to dealing with the less fortunate.” I hold her gaze when I speak, a little flare of fire sparking through me. Determination to not let her bitchy ass ruin my night.