Page 515 of Filthy Elites

The prickle of unbidden tears sparks to life in my eyes, but I blink them away. It shouldn’t be Clay asking about my dress in a disapproving tone, it should be Sebastian. He wouldn’t let me wear a white tank because he thought other guys would see my nipples through it, yet I’m here in a dress so tight my thong might as well be dental floss it’s so tiny, and he hasn’t said a word. He’s not even here, because he doesn’t care.

“Don’t worry, you can borrow it another night,” I snap, finishing my bottle off and then looking expectantly at Sammy. “You ready?”

“Sure,” she nods, a hint of confusion in her expression. Without asking me what’s going on, she finishes her own drink, then takes my hand and walks with me over to the front door, ignoring the three shocked guys following us.

“Have a good night,” I call behind me, dismissing the guys as we step out of the door and toward the gate. I stop breathing altogether when the gate doesn’t move as we approach it, and a warmth floods my chest, instantly freezing to ice when the huge metal gates slowly begin to part.

He let me go. He saw my dress, heard I was going to a party and then just let me go.

I shouldn’t care, but I do. Maybe I’ve been testing him, seeing if this was all an act, if I actually am free. He passed and I doubt there’s a shrink anywhere in the entire country who could explain why my heart feels like it’s breaking.

“Starling, are you okay?” Sammy asks as we climb into her golf cart and start to drive away.

Shaking my head, I bring my hand to my lips and cover the whimpering sound that’s fighting to get free.

“Oh my god, what’s the matter?” she asks, pulling the cart into the driveway for one of the other houses and turning all of her attention to me.

“I’m an idiot. He did everything. I hate him, but he let me go,” I half sob, half ramble. I know I’m not making any sense, but my thoughts are so jumbled that I can’t make my mouth form the words to explain.

“Wow, okay,” Sammy says, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I don’t really know what any of that means, but I’m guessing it’s to do with a guy?”

I nod.

“It isn’t your stepbrother is it, because I’m going to be honest, if it is that’s so freaking hot.”

I shake my head, blinking away the tears that are threatening to fall. “His name is Sebastian, we went to the same high school for a while.”

“Lockwood? Sebastian Lockwood?” she asks slowly, her eyes widening.

For a moment I wonder if I’m making the best decision by telling her the truth. Could she use it against me somehow? Then I just decide to do it anyway. If I really have faded from his notice then I’m not sure I’ll stay here anyway, so what harm can it do to tell her the whole sordid truth? So I do, I tell her about him deciding I was his the first day of sophomore year, I tell her about him manipulating my mom and best friend. I tell her about running to my dad’s and being so overwhelmed by the idea of him, that I never came back. Then I tell her about him warning me that there would be consequences for leaving him. About the way he stole my mom from me. By the time I explain about having no idea he was at Kingsacre until they ambushed me in the kitchen, her eyes are so wide they’re like saucers and her mouth is literally hanging open.

“So let me get this right. He got you here, had you basically under house arrest, sleeping in his bed, having sex with him and then he just apologized, told you, you were free and now he’s not bothered?” Sammy exclaims.

The scoff that falls from my lips is bitter and angry. “Pretty much,” I shrug. “It’s been a couple of weeks now and he’s barely even glanced in my direction. At first I thought it was just another one of his games. He’s always enjoyed letting me think I’ve got the upper hand, then showing me he was already six steps ahead. But he really just doesn’t care.”

“Given everything you’ve just told me, aren’t you pleased that he’s lost interest?”

Groaning, I let my head flop back until I’m staring up at the roof of the cart. “I am pleased. I hate him, but I’m also pissed. This boy has haunted me day and night for the last two and a half years and now he’s just lost interest, like I was a toy that he got bored of, or a game that he was obsessed with until something new came along.”

“I mean I kind of get it,” she offers noncommittally.

“Do you, because I don’t. I should have packed my bags and gone the moment I had the chance, but instead I’m still here, living in a house with him, in the room literally next door to him. I’m free, but I feel more caged now than I did when he was the constant monster beneath the bed.”

“You like him,” Sammy gasps dramatically.

“I really don’t think I do. He’s been the cause of so much misery. But…” I trail off.

“How was the sex?” she whisper-shouts.

“I don’t have anything to compare it to, but if it was bad, then I think good would kill me.”

Giggling, she slaps her hand over her mouth. “You want to fuck your stalker.”

“It’s not fair that he gets to just say that it’s over. I want to fuck him up, I want him to feel some of the pain and misery he’s caused me. I want my revenge, but none of that is going to happen when he doesn’t care anymore.”

“Maybe he’s just playing it cool,” she suggests, turning the cart around and heading back down the road toward the party.

“Sebastian doesn’t understand the concept of playing it cool, he’s completely single minded, a total control freak. If he still thought of me as his, I wouldn’t be sitting here wearing this dress.”

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