Page 44 of Play Dirty
My gaze flickers to the small box that contains June's phone, and my stomach drops. Dread coils around my spine and throat, choking me with intent. Whoever had that phone is the last person to have seen her alive, so why send it to me? I should talk to Thiago, but Idon’t think this is something I can bring up without it being eerily suspicious. The walls continue to close in around me, and the only thing that continues to cross my mind is Shiloh.
I was a dick to her.
And she didn’t deserve it.
What’s worse is how much it’s weighing on my mind.
“Don’t forget we have that party on Thursday.”
My jaw ticks, my muscles involuntarily tensing at the thought of the Velarium hunt; this year, I get to participate as a gift. Not as someones whore. Thankfully, he’s been too busy and caught up with business that I haven’t been called to perform. I didn’t care to participate. It's not like I could get my dick to work, but everyone would expect me to take a petal or one of the new guys on the team.
Venari Noctem, or the Hunt of the Night. I nod as I rise to my feet and stretch my arms above my head, flexing my already long fingers. “I'm going for a run.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, I need to blow off some steam and maybe stop at the studio.”
A grin spreads across his features as he throws on some sweats and chucks his wet towel my way. “It’s the smartest thing to do. You don’t need Shiloh on your ass. She’s not like June, passive and lets things go. She won’t let you off the hook.”
I smile, tucking my hands in my sweats pockets. Listening to him tell me things I already know about Shiloh. “Okay, Dad. Can I go now?”
“Go on, my child.”
“I'm older, dickhead.”
He scoffs, pretending to be irritated. “Try not to piss off Shiloh, I’m sure she’s having a hard time. She loved June. She’s grieving. People like her don’t really get to mourn publicly.”
I wanted to say I know or I feel the same, but I opted for a small nod and a comfortable silence before heading to the studio. I can probably surprise her and show her that we can work together, at least in the classroom. A small olive branch because right now I don’t need to make an enemy out of Shiloh, especially while having June’s phone in my possession. The walk to the studio is chilly from the autumn air, and leaves dance across the ground. The moon is high, illuminating my path, unfortunately not my mind. That’s a mess of questions, a mess of fragmented thoughts, all full of Shiloh fucking Johnson.
My phone vibrates inside my pocket. Pulling it free, I open the anonymous message.
Anonymous
Can you trust her?
Sucking in my teeth, I stare at the screen, my fingers gripping the device tightly. The message is meant to startle me, but all I feel is annoyance. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I ignore the question as I spot her inside.
I cut through the fields and make one final turn when the soft sound of music fills the night as I creep closer. “Fade Into You,” by Mazzy Star. One of June’s favorite songs. My heart tightens in my chest as I sneak into the room. Shiloh is distracted, her hands a mess of clay, trying to mold a base. Dressed in a light blue chunky sweater that slipped off her shoulder, hair loose, black leggings, and slippers with tall socks.
My body moves before my mind reacts. Closing the distance between us, I crouch behind her, placing my hands over hers. She tenses but allows the proximity. In silence, we cup the circular base. I don’t ask what she’s building. I just let her soft hands guide the shape, and I justassist.
Her scent is intoxicating, overriding my senses. Merging my grief into something carnal, primal, and fucking forbidden. Together, we shape the base upwards after finally making it stable. My thumb brushes over hers as we coax the clay into a narrowing form. “You’re pushing too hard, like Ms. Medina would say, keep it centered and soft.”
“Why are you here?” She mutters softly.
I lean into her, pressing my chest into the back of the chair. Inhaling the scent of her luxurious shampoo and giving her a small truth. A white flag. “I owe you an apology, Shiloh. It’s hard for me to talk about June. When she left that night, she was upset. I went after her, but she was gone.”
Shiloh's body stiffens, her hand pressing into the form and forging it into something else. “Why was she upset?”
The question isn’t one that takes me by surprise, given what I just told her. It'sshame that has me swallowing hard and pulling my hands away. It’s easier if I’m not so close; it’s even better if she doesn’t turn around and force me to look away.
“June and I had something platonic.”
“Platonic?” Her voice is a little broken and softer. I like soft Shi, because this is who she is. This is who June got to see, and the girl I met all those years ago by the fountain. On the worst night of my life, without knowing it, Shiloh became my guiding light but also the keeper of my trauma. Even if she’s not the one who caused it…
Those glacial eyes I love so fucking much have been tainted by my trauma.
It's a wound I’m afraid that even Thiago’s idea of exposure therapy wouldn’t help. Not when it’s always raw and bleeding.
