The feeling is mutual. I hate the motherfucker.
Can’t you just ignore him? I’m sure he’ll ignore you, too.
Until the whole thing with Mia hopefully blows over.
Let me ask you. Do you ever plan on telling him about us?
I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.
How long do I have to wait? A month? A year? A decade? How long should I prepare to shove myself back into the closet with you?
I’m sorry.
Fuck you and your fucking brother.
That was the last text he sent me. Six days ago.
Six whole days.
I’ve waited for him in the penthouse, but he never shows up.
I’ve texted him a few times, but he’s never replied.
Every night, I hope he’ll come home. Every night, I sit on the sofa across from the lift until I fall asleep. Sometimes, I spend all-nighters obsessing and having to physically stop myself from bleeding my fucking wrist dry.
The fact that he ghosted me after I opened up to him, even partially, has been messing with my head in ways I don’t like to admit. Nikolai has always communicated with me. This is the first time he’s not being an open book and it’s fucking me up.
It’s not like I can go to his campus or house. Though Mia invited me to her birthday party tonight, so this is my only chance to see him.
“Bran!” Glyn waves in my face and I blink. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere. I’m just a bit exhausted.”
“I get it.” She sighs. “Lan’s been shadowing you lately, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“That must be so annoying. What’s his plan now?”
“I don’t know.” Though I do know, but it doesn’t matter now that Nikolai isn’t in the picture anymore.
What if he really is done with me this time? What if he finally gave up after seeing that ugly side of me?
The thought sends a rush of nausea to my throat and I feel like I’ll throw up.
“Poor Bran is just existing, but psychos won’t leave him alone.” Cecily pats my hand, bringing me back from the edge.
“Psychos?” I frown. “Do you mean Eli? He doesn’t really bother me. He’s actually pretty content when he’s around me.”
“Not Eli. Nikolai.”
My heart thuds against my rib cage and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Jesus. How desperate could I be to get so flustered at the mere mention of his name?
“Nikolai?” I ask with the same nonchalance that I fake so well.
“Yeah, he was asking me about you the other day when Jeremy took me to the Heathens’ mansion. He calls you lotus flower.” Cecily winces. “It gave me the creeps to see him that interested in you.”
“Right!” Glyn snaps her fingers. “Whenever I go to visit Kill, Nikolai asks about my brothers and I thought it was because of how much he hates Lan’s guts, but he seems more interested in any tidbits about Bran. Did he always love art? When did he make his first painting? What does he like to do in his free time? What’s his favorite color? Movie? Parent? Jeez. It feels like a police interrogation.”
“What makes it creepy is how intense and insistent he gets. Jeremy said that’s how he is and if I don't feel comfortable, I shouldn’t answer him, but still. Why do you think he does that?”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s crushing on you, Bran.” Glyn giggles and bumps my shoulder with hers.
My body stiffens and I reach a hand to my nape, pulling at my hair until pain explodes not only in my scalp, but also deep in my soul.
“Bran?” Cecily watches me carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I murmur, battling against being suffocated under the weight of my own admission.
I am not okay.
Have I ever been okay? I don’t remember the last time I was okay.
No. I do. It was when Nikolai hugged me to sleep. I was okay that night.
Fuck it. I’m falling apart anyway. Might as well do it spectacularly.
I let my hand fall to my side and face my sister. “You’re right. He’s crushing on me. Or he was.”
Her eyes double in size. “How do you know? Did he tell you?”
“You could say that. Actually, I’ve been with him for a while now.”
I regret my decision to just let it all out when Cecily spills her tea and Glyn looks at me as if I’m an alien.
And these two are supposed to be the least drama-free and understanding people in the group.
Bloody hell.
I tighten my grip on the teacup. “Are you going to say something or just continue to stare? Not that it’s uncomfortable or anything remotely similar.”