Page 16 of Scout
He slides into the passenger seat, claiming the spot without hesitation. As if he didn’t just torch what was left of my sanity. Silence floods the car, thick and sharp, pressing against my ribs. He runs a hand through his hair, adjusts his shirt—cool, calm, unaffected. Like this is nothing.
Just another night. Just another job.
Meanwhile, my hands are locked on the wheel, knuckles white, pulse screaming.
“So,” he says eventually, voice light and full of knives. “You excited for a night of awkward small talk and expensive champagne?”
I don’t look at him. “You mean the party… or the part where I booked the guy my ex slept with?”
He grins, clearly enjoying every second of this train wreck. “You tell me. You booked me, Xavier.”
I grip the wheel harder, fingers aching. “Yeah, well… Kendrix is single.” I shrug. “He can fuck who he wants.”
“Sure he can,” Scout mutters. Not smug. Not defensive. Just quiet. Like he’s agreeing while knowing full well I didn’t mean it.
I glance over, just once. He’s staring out the window, his face unreadable in the passing streetlights. But his reflection? Still smirking.
The rest of the drive is quiet.
We pull up to Dr. Maddoc’s house and, of course, it’s massive: white brick, wide columns, glowing light spilling out. It’s the kind of place that hosts political fundraisers and has a wine cellar older than me.
A valet opens my door and I hand off the keys, trying not to grit my teeth when Scout steps up and casually links his arm through mine, acting as if this is a real date.
I let him.
Inside, the place sparkles—crystal light fixtures, classical music, doctors and donors and board members in overpriced clothes, drinking champagne as if it’s tap water.
We each grab a flute. Scout raises his glass in a silent, smug little toast. He sips. Hums. Fucking glows.
“You good?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t even look at me. Just smiles, smug and knowing, like he’s memorized every one of my weak spots.
“I’m perfect.”
And yeah. He is.
He works the room with ease, like he’s done this a thousand times. Laughs, compliments, flirts. Makes half the attendees stare at him as if they’d mortgage their lives just to taste his smile.
I watch him.
And I wonder what part of him is real.
Could the joke be on me?
Maybe all of it is.
7
Kendrix
I stepout of my car and straighten the collar of my shirt. Deep breath. I tell myself I’m going to be cool tonight. Collected. The adult in the room. It’s just a retirement party. I’ve been to dozens.
But the second I walk up those stone steps and into the glow of Maddoc’s obnoxious mansion, my stomach twists.
Because there he is.
Xavier. And on his arm—Scout.
