Page 45 of Feed Your Fiends

“I love the way you look at me from this angle. It gives me a glimpse of you that I’ve missed the most.”

“Gant—”

“You’d think it would be those tits. Rising and falling on beat, a nipple threatening to pop out at any second but it never does, much to my dismay and my pleasure. No one else can see it and live, but the thought, the threat of the tease—”

“Gant!”

“But it’s not them. Your tits.” She rolls her eyes at my clarification. “It’s your eyes and not the irises. No, not the windows to the soul everyone drones on about.”

“Probably because you can’t relate. Because you don’t have windows. You have abysses. Voids.”

“It’s the white parts,” I say, ignoring her. “I never thought the whites of someone’s eyes could be so intimate, but you can’t see them in any other position than this one, with you looking directly up at me. The last time I saw them like this was in the greenhouse when you were on your knees, remember? Your lips were tight on my cock, your hair fisted in my palm, my release dripping down your chin and onto those glorious tits, collecting on your hard nipples. It was so white, remember? So fucking white, just like your eyes. They glistened in the moonlight, like two little crescent moons that only lit up for me.”

“I don’t want to hear your erotic fucktard poetry,” she hisses. “What the fuck do you want to drink?”

I smile. “Water.”

Her gaze snaps to the glasses. “You want me to fill all of these with water?”

“No need for you to do it. It looks like rain. Real rain, not Stassi’s crystals.”

“What?” Her eyes flit up to the ceiling. More whites. More pretty white crescents as she focuses on the leaking skylight, Hale had no money to fix. That she had no money to fix.

Then we hear it together, little pings against the glasses, sloshes against the wooden bar.

Her eyes fly to the shot glasses, already filling up as a small curtain of water divides us.

Footsteps on the roof alert us to a dark figure, one with long, flowing hair. Bae. He’d stayed for the party, but he was off to South Korea in a matter of hours.

Now that’s a fucking friend.

“Good thing you lined the bar,” I say as more water bursts down, overflowing the glasses. I jump down in front of the bar as Elle scoots her chair back, knocking into the shelves behind her and rattling the rows of glasses that go up to the ceiling.

“Stop it!” she glares at me through the downpour. You’re going to ruin the floors. Hale just—”

“Betrayed me,” I hiss. “I don’t give a damn about that traitor and his DIY’s.”

“He’s right about you.” She shakes her head. “You’re a horrible friend.”

Me? A horrible friend? After what Hale’s done?

But then, I think of the missed calls. Of Aria having to drag me out of the penthouse to come here tonight, and Elle’s words twinge at my heart. Just a flutter.

I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a traitor like Hale.

I’ll fix the damn roof aftershe comes with me.

“Elle, I’m so tired.” My eyes burn as a reminder when I say it. “Let’s go home, and the rain will stop.”

“You’re touched in the head.”

“You’ve fucked it in.Please.” I extend my arm through the rainfall, but she only recoils into the glasses again.

“No!”

“Fine, Rose. I tried to be patient,pleasant, but fucking fine. You want to play, so let’s play.”

“Rose? Wrong girl. And I’m not playing.”

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