Page 64 of The Beginning and End of Everything
Her arms cross her chest. “So, you were drunk when you called?”
“Yes. I got drunk and sat on the fountain at Piccadilly, then called you, which…” I love Hope, but honestly, I wish she weren’t here. It’s already messy enough as it is.
“I’m staying at Daddy’s flat in Chelsea. If you’re insistent on staying in London, at least come stay with me.” She gives another disgusted glance around Brandon’s apartment when I drop back to the sofa. “This place reeks of man and filth.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“Look, as much as the pikey has pissed me off a right treat for running off like he did,” she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, “if this is what you think you need, fine. Maybe it is. A new start, someplace different. But Brandon… I can tell you from dealing with Silas, this is not a road you need to go down right now.”
Silas. She’s comparing Brandon to Silas? Surely he’s not that bad.
“You need to—“
“I don’t need to do anything,” I almost shout.
There is no doubt this is a disaster waiting to happen. All the swirling tension, the grief and anger, and what-ifs. Nothing about it is a good idea, but at the same time, I think I want to drown right along with him. "I'll think about it."
“Think about it. Fine. But we aren’t sitting in here today, so come on.”
I glare at her. “I don’t want to go anywhere, Hope.”
She gives an adamant shake of her head. “Not hearing it. I’m hungry, and I’m sure as shit not eating anything he has in his freezer.”
We eatlunch at the Giggling Squid, then Hope drags me to a nail salon and over half of London before we end up at the Dog’s Bell.
Sunlight filters through the lead-glass windows, spilling over the vacant tables. At four in the afternoon, the normal hustle and bustle of the pub is missing. It’s only Kyan and Brandon at the bar, and my heart does an uneven tap dance in my chest because I can still feel that kiss bleeding through my veins.
Hope leans in, nodding toward Brandon. "Always so broody. Just look at him.”
But I wouldn’t call the slump in his shoulders or the way he’s scrubbing a hand over his jaw brooding. To me, that’s broken.
Kyan’s gaze strays to the doorway when he tips back his pint glass, and a slick smirk kicks up the corner of his lips. "Ah, look what that cat drug in. Who’s the pretty redhead with you?”
Brandon gives the doorway a fleeting glance, then goes back to his drink.
"Brooding…" Hope sings in my ear.
“My friend Hope.”
Hope nods. “I’m herbest friend.”
Brandon snorts into his glass, and Hope walks up behind him, whacking him on the back before she settles into the seat beside Kyan. "I’m still pissed at you, pikey."
Brandon looks at me. “Why is she here?”
"She’s staying at her Dad’s in Chelsea."
"Jesus, she's staying?" He takes a hefty swig of his drink.
Hope narrows her gaze on Brandon, eyes blazing. “Yes, and Poppy’s staying with me since your apartment is deplorable."
With that, Brandon slams his drink onto the counter and pushes up, grabbing my arm and leading me to the corner of the bar out of the other’s view. He turns and folds his arms over his chest. "Talk.”
"I'm going to stay with her—”
"No.”
