His eyes are narrowed. “Please tell me this isn’t because you got back with Clara.”
“What does she have to do with it…？” Sometimes I forget we’re together. I keep making up all sorts of excuses to not meet at night—or even during the day—and send her designer bags and shoes as compensation.
“She’s flaunting you all over her IG like an attention whore.”
“Lan! That’s so rude.”
“Well, she is. A gold digger, too.” He frowns. “For the life of me, I can’t understand why the hell you keep going back to the bitch. She cheated on you, multiple times, and she’s so toxic, it makes drugs look like unicorn rainbows.”
“Very rich coming from the toxicity king.”
He huffs. “Classic Bran move.”
“What?”
“Always deflect, little bro. Run, hide, and change the subject whenever it hits too close to home. That’s working bloody wonders for you.”
I force a smile. “If you’re done, kindly get out.”
“Lose her, Bran. I mean it. If the bitch hurts you one more time, I’ll take things into my own hands and we both know how that will end.”
And then he steps out of the studio.
I continue watching the door long after he’s gone.
His words sounded like he cared, or like he was doing it for me, but no. Lan has always seen me as an extension of himself, so the reason he’d take revenge against Clara isn’t for me. It’s for him, so he won’t look weak.
My eyes land on the canvas and I groan. I’m so glad Lan didn’t see a certain silhouette. But I do.
Clearly.
In the middle of the volcanic chaos stands a figure—tall, muscular, and furious.
My hand shakes as I run it over my face.
Fuck.
What the hell is happening to me?
And how can I stop this?
8
BRANDON
A week later, I go out to the local pub with my friends.
Only so I don’t get too stuck in my head and…do something I’ll regret.
Chatter echoes around us as drinks are exchanged. We’re seated at a big table in the middle, surrounded by smaller ones.
A few older locals sit at the bar, discussing their crops as they down their daily pints.
The small party is in full bloom with Remi being a clown as always. He’s bouncing back and forth with a drink in hand as he verbally spars with our two childhood friends, Ava, who’s about Glyn’s age, and Cecily, who’s a year older.
My cousin Creigh is also here, but he seems more preoccupied with his phone. Annika, the girls' new roommate and Jeremy’s younger sister, tries to strike up a conversation with him, but he doesn’t dignify her with a response.
He’s listening, though, because he looks up whenever she stops talking.
I’m still a bit peeved about Annika recently being added to the group. She’s nice, but the fact remains that she represents the Heathens, and there’s often security detail outside every place we go.
I’d really prefer it if the Heathens were no longer shoved down my throat.
One small problem, though. I’ve sort of become close with Mia Sokolov. Or she could be just using me to get closer to Lan like all girls aside from Clara do.
I like her company and she games like a boss, so I guess we’ll keep seeing each other for as long as she wants. At my place. There’s no way in hell I’m stepping foot in the Heathens' mansion again.
Not after the last time I was there.
Don’t think about it.
Stop thinking about it.
It’s easy to focus on the people around me, but it’s still a struggle to be completely present. So I throw down my third drink, mirroring Glyn, who’s sitting opposite me and who’s also hell-bent on drinking herself into a coma.
She just suggested playing never have I ever in a very slurry voice. Maybe I should call it a night and take her back to the flat she shares with the girls.
Only, I really need to drink as well. A few more and then we’ll leave.
Remi holds an imaginary mic. “I’ll go first.”
Cecily flips her silver hair back and points an accusatory finger at him. “You always go first.”
“That’s right.” Ava puffs out her chest. “Glyn wanted this, so let her play first.”
“Play what?”
I nearly spit out my mouthful of alcohol. It’s not because of Killian, my sister’s boyfriend, who just said that last sentence.
Not even close.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and while I can’t see the entirety of him, I can make out Nikolai’s frame standing close to Killian. His hair is loose, falling thick and smooth to his shoulders.