Page 57 of The Season
“Uh-huh,” Lily murmurs, breath warm against my neck. “Please.”
A smug sense of satisfaction wells up in me at her response, and I can’t help but grin down at Liam, feeling vindicated. He rolls his eyes at me, then pushes past us, opening the door to my room.
Light floods the hall, and I squint against the brightness as I carry Lily into the room I share with Antoine and Seth, carefully depositing her on my double mattress. It takes up most of the space in this tiny room—Antoine and Seth both only have twin-size mattresses on the floor—but the reality is I just won’t fit in anything else.
I’ve felt guilty about it since the season started.
“Hmmm. That’s better,” Lily murmurs, pressing her face into my pillow, her hair spreading out around her in brown waves, her limbs tangling with my blankets. Suddenly, I’m grateful for my mattress, that there’s enough room for Lily to be comfortable. That I can sit on the edge here and watch over her.
“What are you doing in here?” Antoine’s voice is low, an almost-lethal-sounding rumble, and I furrow my brow in confusion, thinking for a brief moment that he’s talking to me.
“None of your fucking business,” Liam retorts, all the softness that he used with Lily gone.
“This is my room. Of course it’s my business.” Antoine sits up in his bed and sets the book he’s been reading to one side before adjusting the collar of his sleep shirt. Because yes, Antoine is one of those people who wears pajamas that look like tailored dress shirts and pants, instead of just sleeping in a worn-out T-shirt and boxers like the rest of us.
“Guys…” Lily moans, flinging one hand over the portion of her face that isn’t pressed into my pillow. “Can you not?”
Antoine’s eyes widen at the sight of Lily on my bed, as if he’s only just noticed her, then looks up to me in silent question.
“She got a little drunk,” I say by way of explanation, reaching down to rub soothing circles over Lily’s back. “I thought she could use a break from the party.”
I’m trying really hard not to grin like an idiot right now, but it’s difficult. Lily wanted me. Held me. She’s laying in my bed, and I’m looking after her. Not Seth. Not Antoine. Not Liam.
Me.
“I kissed Eddie,” Lily says, the words muffled by my pillow.
“I’m sorry—what?” Liam asks, sinking to sit on Seth’s empty mattress and blinking at Lily in confusion.
“Yep. I kissed him.” Lily lets out a sigh, then rolls onto her back, throwing one arm over her eyes. The move has her sweater riding up, exposing her naval and the soft, tan flesh above the waistband of her jeans.
“I’m such an asshole,” she continues, her words slightly slurred but clear enough. “I don’t know what my problem is. There I was, telling him I wanted us to be friends, and the next minute I was trying to suck his soul out of his mouth.” She lifts one arm above her, pointing one finger for emphasis as she adds: “That is not what friends do. Friends don’t drunk-kiss their friends.”
Liam snorts, leaning back on his hands, kicking his legs out in front of him. “I’m pretty sure Eddie would have been fine with it.”
Lily gives a mirthless laugh. “Um, no. No, he wasn’t. God, I’m such a jerk.”
My mind is racing, trying to make sense of Lily’s words. “You… you kissed Eddie?” I ask dumbly.
“Yah.” Lily says this on an exhale, and I try not to notice the way her breasts rise and fall with the movement, the way her pulse flutters at her throat.
“Wh—why?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. My throat suddenly feels tight, and there’s a burning behind my eyes.
“I don’t know,” Lily groans, and she moves her arm, only to press both palms against her face.
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person to kiss someone drunk and regret it later,” Antoine mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning his head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sure Eddie will get over it. Or he won’t. Maybe he’ll hold a grudge against you for years. Maybe it’s a Kiwi thing to hate people who drunk-kiss you.”
Lily whimpers, and I narrow my eyes at Antoine, my own hurt quickly giving way to anger on her behalf. He doesn’t have any right to talk to her like that.
“Shut up, Antoine,” Liam says, and there’s an edge to his voice that I don’t quite understand.
Liam scoots off Seth’s bed, scrambling across the threadbare carpet to the edge of my mattress, pulling Lily’s hands off her face.
“Eddie isn’t going to be mad at you, love,” Liam adds soothingly, his elbows resting on my mattress as he leans over Lily, forcing her to meet his eyes. He brushes a strand of loose hair off her forehead, pausing to shoot me a silent look of warning before adding: “No one is going to be mad at you, okay?”
Lily nods, her lower lip trembling as she stares up at him, her hazel eyes flitting to mine with such a look of guilt, it has my chest clenching.
“He’s right,” I choke out, swallowing back my own hurt pride. I don’t have any right to feel possessive of her, to be upset if she kisses someone else. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
