Page 22 of Anti-Hero

I stare out the window mindlessly as the car travels uptown. City lights flash past, the soundtrack of honks and sirens fading into background noise. It rained sometime recently because drops of water blur the glass.

I yawn again. Fuck, I’m tired. And drunk. It’s a good thing I never asked Lili for Collins’s number or else I’d probably be using it right now.

Camden pulls into the underground garage beneath my building twenty minutes later. Before climbing out of the car, I instruct him to take the weekend off. If I decide to go out, I’ll drive myself.

Three attempts are required to correctly punch in the code for the elevator, thanks to my bleary eyes and the alcohol swimming in my bloodstream. I yawn for a third time as I wait for the doors to open.

When they finally do, the elevator is empty, which is a relief.

My penthouse, however, isnotempty. I hear the voices and rock music as soon as I exit the elevator and approach the door.

I curse Bash under my breath as I fish my keys out of my pocket and fit one into the lock. He got home from an Alaskan fishing trip last week, and he’s supposed to be packing before leaving tomorrow. His fall term at Dartmouth starts on Monday.

I kick my shoes off in the entryway and head straight into the kitchen, avoiding the commotion coming from the living room. I should drink some water. And the steak Flynn and I had for dinner feels like a lifetime ago.

“You’re home early.”

I glance over one shoulder to see Bash approaching. He’s balancing two pizza boxes that he drops on the marble counter in a clatter of cardboard.

“Yeah.” I grab a water, shut the door, and flip the lid of a box open. It’s empty. So’s the second one.

“We can order another pizza,” my brother offers.

“Nah, it’s fine.” I uncap the water and guzzle most of it down. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Dunno yet. Mom and Dad are coming over at noon.”

“Okay.” I scrub a palm along my stubbled jaw. “I’m headed to bed.”

“Seriously? It’s not even one.”

“Seriously. I’m exhausted.”

“From work?” Bash asks dubiously.

“Among other things. Thanks a fuck ton for making me Lili’s photography project, by the way. I think I have permanent vision damage.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Your eyes were closed, and you were scowling in every single one.”

I shake my head and finish off my water.

“I didn’t ask Lili to take photos, for the record. Just to send me the ones she took. She sent them to Mom and Dad too. Mom might use one on this year’s Christmas card.”

“Wonderful,” I drawl.

“Ididsuggest she check on you though. You’ve barely been home this week. I was worried.”

“I’m good,” I assure him. “I’ve just been busy.”

Bash nods. Glances at the stove, rubbing the back of his neck. “How-how is it? Really?”

He’s not just asking as a concerned brother. He’s asking because his last name is Kensington too.

I blow out a long breath and admit, “I love it.”

Bash’s startled eyes meet mine. “What?”

“I love it,” I repeat. “I thought I’d be bored or basically just a figurehead. But it’s exciting. Interesting. Exhausting, yeah, but in a good way.”

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