James
Watching lacrosse without being able to play is just plain miserable. My team comes out of the locker room pumped with adrenaline, and one player after another slaps me on the back as I stand on the sidelines like a spectator between the bleachers. I endure the misery, but in this moment, I just regret everything, especially the decision to stir things up a bit at the back-to-school party.
The worst part is that Roger Cree, one of the freshmen, has taken over my position and is doing so well that he's become serious competition. If he had been bad, my place on the team would have been secure, but like this? How am I supposed to know if the coach won't keep him on the team after my punishment is over? Especially since he's also been getting along well with Cyril and the others lately.
When he comes over and offers me a fist bump, I reluctantly bump mine against his and then sit down with the substitutes on the bench at the edge of the field. I cross my ankles and watch as the opposing team takes the field and lines up against my guys. The team is good, I recognize many of the players from last season. Especially that one attacker, he's unpredictable and unbelievably fast. Hopefully, Cyril has him covered.
"Hey, Beaufort. It sucks that you can't play," one of the substitutes suddenly says to me. His name is Matthew, but I doubt we've ever exchanged a word before.
"Yeah, man. Total bummer," another agrees.
"I don't understand what this punishment is supposed to achieve. The move was totally badass."
"Especially since it's your last year. How crappy to spend the last season on the bench."
I abruptly stand up. Without saying a word, I walk forward to the edge of the field. I'm glad for the sunglasses I'm wearing. Not only because the sun is unusually bright for an October day, but mostly because no one can see how crappy I feel.
I stand at a distance from Coach Freeman, arms crossed, surveying the field. It's cruel having to watch my team and not being able to do anything. Within five minutes of the kickoff, the first opposing goal is scored.
Suddenly, footsteps approach from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Ruby and her friend Lin running towards the field. Both of them have flushed faces and tousled hair. When they come to a stop, Ruby curses loudly. She hasn't spotted me yet, so I get the chance to discreetly observe her.
She's wearing her school uniform, although most of our classmates come to the games in casual wear or team shirts. In one hand, she holds a tripod, in the other a notebook, and as always, she carries her hideous backpack on her back, which looks like it could fall apart any second. It's almost the color of vomit, but somehow she looks cute with it. Like a ninja turtle. A disheveled ninja turtle with a bright red face.
I stroll casually over to them, watching as they set up the tripod and what looks like an expensive camera.
"Can I help?" I ask.
Ruby whirls around to face me, eyes wide. Obviously, she still isn't used to my attempts to be friendly with her. I've been greeting her in the halls all week, and each time she's flinched, as if she's simply not used to someone talking to her outside of class.
"Did we miss something?" she asks hurriedly. Her gaze sweeps quickly over the field and then to Coach Freeman. However, he's so engrossed in the game that he hasn't noticed Ruby and Lin are late.
"Ridgeview scored a goal. Slam dunk," I reply.
Ruby nods and scribbles something in her notebook. "Great, thanks."
Lin sets up the camera and checks the settings before she starts taking pictures. After that, both of them are engrossed in documenting the game. I find that I'd much rather watch Ruby than my team. At least her sight hurts much less. We've long since caught up with the lead and are in the process of really taking it to Ridgeview – but I simply can't bring myself to be happy about it. When Cree provides the setup for two goals and even scores one himself in the second half, I realize that the guys don't need me at all. I'd rather disappear on the spot, and I have no idea why I don't just do it.
Instead, I stand at the edge of the field with a stony face and endure it, clapping when a goal is scored, cursing when the opponents make a move against us, and answering all the questions Ruby and Lin throw at me in between.
After the grueling hour and a half, I don't feel like I've conquered the world, like I usually do when we win a game. I'm just completely drained and can't stand to be here for another second. The thought of going to Cyril's party tonight and collecting pity from everyone who saw me standing on the sidelines today makes me sick. Wordlessly, I turn around before the team comes off the field and walk towards the school. I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial Percy's number, asking him to pick me up.
"James!"
I glance over my shoulder.
Ruby has followed me. Her bangs and the wind don't get along very well; individual strands stand straight up. She notices my gaze and smooths them back down onto her forehead. That's one of her quirks that I've particularly noticed in the past week. By now, I also know about the little comb she carries in her pencil case and uses when she feels unnoticed.
"What's up?" I ask.
"Everything okay with you?"
Why is she asking me that? Nobody asks me something like that – because nobody cares how I'm doing. And even if that weren't the case, most people would be too scared or respectful of me to ask me that question.
"It must be pretty awful watching the others play, huh?" she asks gently.
"Yep."
She shifts from one foot to the other. "Would you rather be alone?"
Uncertainly, I rub the back of my neck and shrug. Thank goodness Alistair saves me from having to answer. With a bright red face, he jogs across the grass and stops in front of us.
"Beaufort! Where are you headed, my friend?"
Okay, that question is even worse than Ruby's. "Home."
"Forget something? We're celebrating at Cy's tonight."
I haven't forgotten, but unfortunately, Cyril's party is the last thing I feel like doing right now. But I can't tell Alistair that. The team won, and I'm still the captain, albeit currently suspended. It wouldn't be fair to not celebrate this victory with my guys. Besides, I don't want to deal with the questions that would surely come if I didn't show up tonight.
"Sure, count me in." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ruby's expression change. I avoid looking directly at her.
"Don't make that face, man. It's gonna be awesome. We've got the whole house to ourselves."
I just grunt.
"Hey, why don't you come along, Ruby?" I give Alistair a warning look, but he just grins and looks back and forth between Ruby and me.
"You don't have to come," I say quickly. Cyril's party is definitely not the right place for someone like Ruby. "I don't think you'd enjoy it there."
I realize I've said exactly the wrong thing when Ruby furrows her brow. She looks like I've challenged her – which is the opposite of what I intended. "How do you know what I like and what I don't like?"
Alistair coughs discreetly, and I shoot him a withering look. He did that on purpose. He knows exactly what goes on at these parties and what kind of people are there.
"I'd love to come, Alistair. Thanks for the invite," Ruby says with a smile that's far too sweet to be genuine. "When and where should I be?"
Alistair is just about to answer when I interject.
"I'll pick you up."
Ruby's shoulders tense.
"That's really not necessary, James."
"I don't mind picking you up on the way."
She raises an eyebrow. "Do you even have a driver's license?"
Alistair lets out an approving whistle. Apparently, he enjoys watching me get verbally slapped down.
Shaking my head, I look at Ruby.
"Percy will drive us if that's okay with you."
Now she grins from ear to ear. "That's more than okay with me."
"Percy, huh? Not bad. He's got a bit of Antonio Banderas about him," comments Alistair.
"I said the same thing!" Ruby laughs, and I feel a warmth spread through me.
Damn it. Why can't I keep a cool head around her? I promised Lydia that I would keep an eye on her – and that's all there is between us. I just have to remind myself of that often enough.
"Alright, Percy will be at your place at eight."
Ruby nods. "Fantastic."
Ruby
Cyril Vega lives in the biggest and most ostentatious house I've ever seen in my life. I'm not even sure if "house" is the correct term for what I'm looking at. The property, which we only gained access to after Percy's license plate was checked by a security guard via camera, seems endless. When I look to the left and right, all I see is manicured lawn and symmetrically planted shrubs and trees.
As James and I step out of the car, I pause for a moment, tilt my head back, and let the impressive facade wash over me. The tall columns flanking the entrance and the expansive balcony directly above make the mansion look like it's from another era.
James beside me seems completely unfazed as we ascend the white stone steps to the oversized front door. But that's no surprise. For one, Cyril is one of his best friends, and secondly, the house he lives in is probably just as big. I feel my palms go cold and then sweaty.
What am I even doing here?
I swore I'd never go to one of these weird parties. But one stupid comment from James was enough to ignite my fighting spirit. I just had to do the opposite of what he wanted, which, in hindsight, is just plain stupid. I've been kicking myself since Monday for letting that outing with James destroy my invisibility at Maxton Hall – and now I'm accompanying him to this party, where most of my classmates will be.
I didn't think for a second this afternoon about what this would mean for me. People will definitely talk about us again – probably even more.
From out here, we can already hear the music and loud voices of the party guests. For a fraction of a second, I consider faking sudden nausea and bailing. But I don't want to give James the satisfaction. So I just quickly rub my hands on my skirt and clear my throat. James gives me a sidelong glance, which I ignore. Then he opens the front door with a key that he strangely carries on his keychain.
We enter the foyer, which is so imposing that it momentarily distracts me from my nervousness. It's tiled with marble and lavishly furnished, with subtle colors of furniture accented everywhere in gold and white. A huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and on the right and left, two stairs lead up to a gallery at asymmetrical angles.
At first glance, it looks like the party is taking place throughout the entire house. The music seems to come from another room, but there are also a few guests milling around here in the foyer. None of them pay us any attention. I breathe a sigh of relief.
"What are they doing up there?" I ask James, nodding towards the twenty or so boys and girls standing on the gallery.
"A peculiar version of beer pong that only Cyril does," he replies.
I watch as a guy drops something from above – ping pong balls, as I belatedly realize. They shoot down into the foyer, where a row of cups is set up. A few of the balls go straight in, but most miss, prompting cheers from the guys, squeals from a few girls, and seemingly everyone to drink.
"I don't get it," I say.
"Me neither," he replies.
"You did it!" someone suddenly bellows above us. I look up just in time to see Cyril swing onto one of the railings. He clings to it and zooms down. Just the sight of it makes me feel queasy. Wren emerges behind him but opts for the safer route and takes the stairs. As he walks, he tilts his head back and empties his glass.
Cyril is the first to reach us and greets James with a half hug, patting him on the back. "Hope we made you proud today."
I can feel James tensing up beside me. "You did," he says in a neutral tone, expressing neither exuberant joy nor revealing how frustrating it must have been for him not to be able to play today.
Cyril's gaze lands on me. "And you are...?" he asks, his icy blue eyes scanning me from head to toe. He looks at my white blouse with blue stripes and my black pleated skirt, as if he might wrinkle his nose at any moment. Asshole. As if he looks any better just because his black shirt probably cost more than my entire outfit.
"Ruby," James interjects, introducing us. "Ruby, this is Cyril."
"Ruby! Alistair told me he invited you," Wren says, grinning as he approaches us. I suppress the urge to look away.
"Hi," I reply, forcing a smile.
He greets James briefly, then his gaze returns to me. The message he sends me with his dirty, smug smile is unmistakable: This is my kingdom. Here, I hold the reins.
In the next moment, James places his hand on my back. "Cy, be a good host and offer us a drink."
He speaks in his I'm-James-Beaufort tone, and while I would never let him boss me around like that, his friends seem unfazed. They just laugh and lead us past the stairs into the back part of the foyer. As we walk, Cyril picks up a few of the balls and tosses them up before opening a door that leads into a large salon.
The room is smaller than the foyer, but there must be at least fifty people inside, chatting or dancing. The music is deafeningly loud, and smoke stings my nose, making my eyes water.
The parties I've been to before can be counted on one hand. They were small gatherings in our park in Gormsey and – just once – the 15th birthday party of a classmate. She had invited me out of false politeness, and I went because Mum insisted I make an effort to get closer to my classmates. It ended with me standing in a corner for half the evening, awkwardly swaying to terrible music, while internally counting the minutes until I could go home.
What's happening here in front of me has nothing in common with that. Instead of cheap beer in plastic cups, the guests are drinking expensive spirits from crystal glasses. The music isn't coming from a boombox but from a sound system with speakers built into various parts of the walls. Plus, I can see a lot of exposed skin.
So this is an elite party.
I look around, trying to take in all the impressions. The bass of the music is so loud that the floor beneath my feet vibrates.
Only on a second glance do I spot the glass conservatory adjoining the room. Inside is a huge illuminated pool, which I will definitely stay away from. A few guests are swimming in their underwear and splashing the people at the edge. Others sit smoking and drinking on velvet-covered sofas that look antique and must have cost a fortune.
In this overwhelming moment, I only realize that James is asking me something when it's too late. "What?" I say.
James leans in closer to me, his mouth near my ear. "What would you like to drink, Ruby Bell?"
A shiver runs down my spine, and goosebumps spread across my arms. I ignore both. "A cola, if they have it. Otherwise, water."
James leans back slightly and looks me in the eyes. "Do you mind if I drink?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Very well. Be right back."
In the next moment, he and Cyril are gone. Wren remains, looking at me with that knowing grin on his face. "You're not drinking?" His voice is pure provocation.
It takes an immense amount of willpower not to turn around and leave him standing there. Or to yell at him in front of everyone. But I've managed to ignore him for two years – I won't let a few stupid remarks throw me off now.
"No," I reply shortly.
Wren moves a bit closer. I immediately step back, feeling the wall against my back. "Why not, Ruby?" he asks, taking another step toward me until I feel the wall at my back. "Have you had bad experiences with alcohol?"
I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I notice how dilated his pupils are. I wonder if he's on something other than Scotch.
"You know exactly why I don't drink, Wren," I retort coldly, tensing my shoulders. If he doesn't leave me alone, I'll seriously hurt him. I've spotted a dark wooden chest of drawers to my left in the corner of my eye, with several statues and a lamp on it. I know how to defend myself.
"I remember that evening very fondly," Wren replies, lifting his left arm and leaning against the wall next to my head.
"But I don't," I manage to say through clenched teeth. He's always left me alone at school, never even hinted at what happened that night two years ago – so why now?
»Really?« he whispers, getting even closer.
Short circuit. I swing my hands out, pushing him firmly away. "I don't want a repeat, Wren."
He takes my hands and intertwines our fingers. Panic floods me as I look around in all directions. "I still remember exactly what you whispered to me that night."
"That was only because you got me drunk," he counters.
"Oh, really?" Again, that dirty smirk on his face. "Alcohol brings out the most secret thoughts, Ruby. You wanted it just as much as I did."
I freeze as the memory of that night finally surfaces in my mind: Wren's ragged breath, his restless hands all over my body. The thought of it makes me flush, partly from embarrassment, partly because I did actually enjoy it. It's just the way it happened that still disturbs me today.
Wren is about to open his mouth again when a voice behind us, sounding both stern and bored, interrupts. "Leave her alone, Fitzgerald."
His eyes widen, and I look past him in surprise. Lydia has joined us. She shoots Wren an exasperated look before wordlessly grabbing my hand and pulling me away into the room. It's only when we're out of earshot that she looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"Who would have thought that someone like you carries around a dirty secret?"
Panic fills me, and I clench my fists at my sides. But before I can say a word, she raises her hands. An amused smile plays on her lips. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
I stare at her, and it takes a moment before I realize what she's said. "I don't care who knows," I say defiantly, even though we both know that's a blatant lie.
If I could, I would like to erase that night from my own memory. I was fifteen at the time and had just arrived at Maxton Hall. It was the first event I had been allowed to attend and I was so excited and nervous that I happily accepted all the cups of punch that Wren brought me. I didn't know that he had added alcohol from a hip flask to get me drunk. And when he pulled me into the hallway and kissed me, I was totally euphoric. Wren was one of the most attractive boys I had ever seen. And he wanted me. Receiving my first kiss from him felt like a rush.
It wasn't until the next morning that I realized how wrong he was to get me drunk without knowing it and how naive I had been. I haven't touched alcohol since.
Across from me, Lydia raises an eyebrow. "Really? I would have thought that your reputation was worth more to you."
"The fact that I got drunk and made out with someone isn't going to ruin my reputation. It's not like I had an affair with a teacher."
I regret the words the moment I say them. Lydia turns white as a sheet. The next second she takes a threatening step towards me. "You said you'd keep your mouth shut. I..." She stops abruptly and moves away again.
»There you are.« James comes over to us and hands me a glass with cola, ice cubes and a slice of lemon. He himself is holding an expensive-looking crystal glass with brown liquid in his hand.
Slowly, he looks back and forth between me and Lydia. "Everything okay?"
"Dear brother, could you maybe bring me something to drink as well? My glass is empty," says Lydia, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly a few times.
James rolls his eyes but takes her glass and turns around again to head towards the bar. As soon as he's gone, Lydia's smile fades. She looks at me with cold eyes, and I swallow hard. I wish I hadn't come here. I don't want to be in this room; I want to be at home, where I feel safe and secure. This is the exact opposite – an adventure I'm not up to.
"Listen," I say before she can threaten me again. "I'm sorry for what I just said."
Her mouth opens and closes. Then she looks at me skeptically. "What?"
"I'm not your enemy," I continue. "And I don't care what's going on between you and Mr. Sutton. I won't betray your secret."
She presses her lips tightly together.
"I just want to be left alone," I try again.
"Why should I believe you?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. "I don't even know you."
"That's true," I say. "But James knows me. And I promised him."
"You promised him," she repeats, as if she doesn't quite understand the significance of the words.
"Yes," I say hesitantly.
For a moment, she falls silent, just eyeing me suspiciously. But then her expression changes. Suddenly, she doesn't look skeptical anymore, but as if some pieces of a puzzle have come together in her head. Her gaze shifts from my face to a point over my shoulder. "So that's how it is," she says finally.
Confused, I turn around trying to figure out what she means. I see James standing at the bar. He's pulling out one bottle after another, lifting them up and studying the labels.
"What's going on?" I ask.
She smiles reassuringly at me. "Don't worry, you're not the first."
I have no idea what she's talking about.
"Many girls have fallen for his charm much earlier," she adds.
Then it clicks. And I can't help it: I burst out laughing.
Lydia frowns. "What's so funny?"
"I don't know if anyone has ever told you, but your brother is pretty much the opposite of charming."
She stares at me, unsure whether to scowl or laugh. James takes the decision out of her hands because he chooses that moment to come back to us.
"Here," he says, holding out Lydia's drink to her. "For you, sister dear."
She gives it a brief glance, then looks back at me. "I've got my eye on you, Ruby." With those words, she turns around and disappears into the crowd.
"What was that about?" James asks, looking puzzled, his gaze following her red-blond hair as it eventually disappears among the people.
When I just shrug, he furrows his brow. "What did she say?"
"Nothing. She doesn't trust me and doesn't believe that I'll keep my mouth shut."
James scans the room with his eyes. It seems like he needs to think about his next words, as if he's not sure what he can say to me and what he can't. "She finds it hard to trust other people."
I look at him questioningly.
"Most people wouldn't keep such a secret to themselves, Ruby," he shrugs. "On the contrary. Ninety percent of people would sell it to the press or try to blackmail us with it. It wouldn't be the first time someone spends time with us just to get hold of our family secrets." He avoids my gaze as he says this, instead continuing to watch the dancing people in the middle of the room.
"That sounds awful."
One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. "It is."
I've never thought about that. It doesn't excuse James' behavior, but with this information, I can understand him—and Lydia—a little better.
"I wonder why I'm even here if everyone mistrusts me so much."
He thoughtfully looks over my face. He raises his hand as if to touch me, but then lets it drop and instead takes a sip from the glass that was meant for Lydia. His second drink. "You're here because Alistair invited you," he finally says.
"True," I mumble and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, which keeps tickling my chin incessantly. "Alistair. If it were up to you, I wouldn't be here right now."
"That's not it."
"What then?" I have no idea why the thought that he doesn't want me here bothers me so much.
"This just isn't the place where you belong, Ruby."
It feels like he's stabbed me with something—a small knife, perhaps. It takes great effort not to show the pain.
"I didn't mean it like that," he says immediately. Apparently, I didn't do so well at hiding the pain as I thought.
"Sure," I say, turning away from him and looking through the large glass windows to the pool, where someone has just jumped in fully clothed. After a few seconds, James pushes himself close in front of me, filling my entire field of view.
"Hey, come on. I just meant that I don't have a good feeling about leaving you around certain people. In the end, they might try to take advantage of you. I feel responsible for you."
"I can take care of myself just fine, thank you," I retort sharply.
Again, he scrutinizes me intently, and I take a tiny sip of my cola to break eye contact. When he looks at me like that, I feel warm, and it's already far too stuffy in here.
"I definitely don't want to be a burden to you. Just behave as you normally would," I finally say with a sweeping gesture that encompasses the whole room. Whatever James does at these parties—let him do it. I don't want him acting like a babysitter.
He nods and downs his second drink. Then, he takes my glass from me and sets it with his on one of the high tables. In the next moment, he's back with me, reaching for my hand. He pulls me further into the center of the room, right between the dancing people. My heart is pounding wildly, and I wonder what the heck he's up to as he pulls me a little closer to him. His chest brushes against mine, and he squeezes my hand briefly before letting go and starting to move to the beat of the music.
James Beaufort is dancing with me. He looks down at me with a smile and starts to sway his hips in circular motions.
"What are you doing?" I ask, confused. I'm the only one standing stiffly on the dance floor.
"I'm doing what I usually do at parties," James replies.
Again, his gaze feels like a challenge I just have to accept. I try to move the way he does. When someone bumps into me from behind, I stumble against him, and he puts a hand on my waist to steady me. My throat goes dry, and my heart beats faster. A tremendous heat washes over me as I look up at him again. We're pressed so close together that not even a sheet of paper would fit between us.
Someone next to us cheers. I tear my gaze away from James' face and look around. At least five pairs of eyes are on us. I must have lost my mind. While James and I may now live together in peaceful coexistence, this is something entirely different. And if I don't want rumors about us spreading like wildfire at school, I need to get off this dance floor urgently.
"I need to go to the bathroom," I manage to say. Immediately, James backs off. His eyes sparkle knowingly, and in that moment, I'm too confused to understand what it means. He nods towards the left corner of the salon, where a corridor begins behind a high archway.
"First right, second door on the left."
I slip through the dancing boys and girls and then walk down the hallway. Oil paintings of Vegas family members hang on the wall, and the wallpaper shimmers green and gold in the light of the lamps. The dark red carpet under my feet has an intricate pattern of various abstract shapes reminiscent of animals. I turn right, as James said. This part of the hallway is completely empty, and I lean against the wall for a moment.
I really have no idea what I'm doing here. Apart from feeling completely out of place, James confuses me. His touches, his looks, his whispered words—if I didn't know better, I'd say he's flirting with me. When he stood outside my door on Monday and said he didn't want to go back to how things were before, I didn't expect something like this to come of it. Does he dance like this with all his acquaintances? Probably.
Maybe I just need to see it as a challenge. These people are my classmates, whether I like it or not. And if I manage to get to Oxford, I'll have to deal with some of them and many other sons and daughters from wealthy families. I take a deep breath, clench my fists, and push myself off the wall with renewed determination. I'll freshen up, then I'll go back to the salon, finish my cola, and dance with James. What's the worst that could happen? People would be talking about me anyway, so I might as well have a little fun.
With this decision in mind, I approach the door a few meters further down the left side of the hallway, hoping to find the bathroom behind it. The room is pitch black except for the light coming in from the hallway. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, but then I can make out the outline of a large antique desk, a seating area with padded chairs, and... lots of bookshelves.
This is definitely not the bathroom – it's a library! I hesitate for just a tiny moment, then take a curious step inside and look around. There are more books in just the first shelf than we have in our entire house. A smile spreads across my face, and I dare to take another step forward... and then I hear it.
Heavy breathing. And muffled sighs.
Turn around and leave, a shrill voice in my head cries out, but it's already too late. My gaze falls on Alistair, who is leaning against one of the bookshelves at the back of the room. He has his head tilted back and is moaning loudly in that moment.
A soft smacking sound follows. "If you keep being so loud, I'll stop."
I freeze. This voice sounds familiar. It's soft, deep, a little husky.
"Keep going," Alistair says, dropping his head forward.
The guy kneeling in front of him stands up. "Only if you ask nicely."
Alistair pulls him down by the hair to kiss him. The guy braces himself with both hands next to Alistair's head on the shelf and returns the kiss. That's when I recognize who he is.
Keshav.
I inhale sharply as Keshav's mouth trails down Alistair's face to his neck.
In that moment, Alistair spots me at the door.
"Kesh, stop," he whispers frantically, pushing his friend away abruptly.
I turn on my heel and flee from the library back into the hallway. Panicked, I glance around in both directions and decide to run back into the salon. I push past dancing people, their faces blurred before my eyes, and search the room for James.
I spot him with his sister, Cyril, and Wren near the pool. They're engaged in conversation, Wren gesturing wildly in the air.
It takes me a moment to collect myself.
Why the hell do I always have to catch people making out who clearly don't want an audience? Since when am I collecting other people's secrets? This isn't normal.
It takes me incredible effort to calm down and at least somewhat compose myself. I decide that I must retract my decision from earlier. I can't have fun here, and I'll never get used to these people. I want to go to James and ask him to take me home, but he's standing so close to the pool that I hesitate for a moment. The sight of the water makes my stomach churn. Eventually, I gather all my courage and cautiously enter the conservatory. I stop a bit away from the group, leaning against the wall. Wren is the first to spot me. "There she is."
I nod curtly at him, almost sighing with relief when James comes the two steps that separate us. I never thought he'd be the person I feel most comfortable with at a party, but today he actually is. He's become my anchor, and I have to stop myself from reaching for his hand.
"Everything okay?" James asks. He has a new glass in his hand, this time with brown contents. There's a slight flush on his cheeks now.
"I'd like to go home soon," I whisper, still out of breath.
James furrows his brow, but nods instantly. Apparently, it's evident to him that I'm on the verge of losing it. He finishes his drink before placing it on the nearest table. "Got it."
"Oh, come on. Since when do you leave my parties before four in the morning?" Cyril asks, sounding offended.
"Since I have someone to take home," James retorts, looking at his friend expressionlessly. There it is again, that insurmountable arrogant barrier.
"Come on, Ruby. Don't be a party pooper. Let's enjoy our friend," Wren says, squatting down to splash water from the pool with his hand. A few drops hit my neck, and it feels like all the air is being squeezed out of my lungs.
"Cut it out," I snap, barely recognizing my own voice because it sounds so shrill.
"Are you made of sugar or something?" Cyril laughs. He's shirtless now, wearing black swim trunks. His hair is still damp from swimming. He takes a step closer. I retreat and cling tightly to James' arm. I don't care what the others think.
"Come on, Cy. Leave her alone," James says, but even his authoritative tone doesn't work anymore. Cyril grins at me like a predator. In the next moment, he lunges towards me, grabs my bag, and hands it to a grinning Lydia.
"Cyril, I'm warning you..." I gasp, but it's too late. He pulls me into a hug that holds nothing loving about it and drags me with him into the pool. I scream as I hit the water with full force, thrashing frantically with my arms and legs.
Then we go under, and my heart skips a beat for a second.
Suddenly, I'm no longer in the Vegas' house, but in a murky yellow-green lake. I'm not seventeen anymore, but eight years old. And I can't swim anymore, I'm helplessly at the mercy of the bitterly cold water.
I can't breathe.
The algae pull me down, and I can't move. My arms don't work, my legs are useless too. I have no control over my body.
The pressure on my chest increases rapidly. And then I have no choice but to inhale the water.
0 Comments