Page 9 of Dirty Martini
I gulp. It’s the question I’ve dreaded that I knew he was going to ask. Knox isn’t an idiot, so he knows exactly which one is causing me this much stress. While I’ve iced out and isolated myself from my brother, I know that he’ll welcome me with open arms.
Rhysis an entirely different story.
What do you do when you’re going to move in with the person whose life you ruined?
Because of me, Rhys was expelled, rejected from his dream school, and kicked out of his home. I was a stupid fourteen-year-old who got in way over my head, and I cost him his future. Knox had a part to play in it—even though he feels zero guilt toward the subject—but this isn’t on him.
He isn’t the one who was buying the drugs.
He isn’t the one who let Rhys take them.
He isn’t the one who just watched while they took this exceptionally brilliant guy away.
I don’t know how Rhys is going to react. I doubt he’ll even talk to me, but will he be cruel? Will he try to make my life miserable?
Don’t I deserve that?
Jesus Christ, I’m a piece of shit.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Knox says, shaking me a bit and snapping me out of my self-loathing. He cups my face in both of his hands, staring deeply, like he’s trying to force my mind to believe his words. “You’re incredible, babe. They’d be idiots to treat you like anything less.”
I smile warmly. God, I wish I felt even an ounce of attraction to him besides the general‘yeah, he’s hot.’While Knox is a prickly asshole to everyone else, he’s not that bad once you get to know him, not that many people have the chance to. I appreciate that he’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. Neither is the weed. I break apart from him and lean back on the couch, snagging the remote and placing it in his hand. “Want to watch a movie? I just need to get my mind off this.”
He waits a beat, calculation in his eyes before nodding. Turning on his television, he flicks through some streaming apps before settling on a horror movie—his preference, not mine—and we fall into a comfortable silence as the opening credits roll. I don’t pay much attention when it starts, though, my mind still buzzing and reeling from what’s about to happen. Even when Knox drapes me over his chest and starts to play with my hair, I don’t relax.
That deep-rooted, crippling feeling of dread washes through me. For some fucked-up reason, every worry I’ve ever had in my life resurfaces, like this move is opening a floodgate for all the scary shit in the world to smack me straight in the face.
I think about how much I miss lacrosse. I think about that one time I accidentally farted in third grade and some dickheadfelt the need to point it out. I think about the first time I made out with a guy and ended up spitting in his mouth.
I think about all of it. All the shit centering around Elton and Rhys. Around what they could possibly think about me. About the fact that I need to be perfect, be composed, be everything a good roommate should be in order for them not to absolutely loathe my presence.
Fuck, I need more weed.
CHAPTER THREE
Rhys
“Hurry the fuck up, Rhys!”
I roll my eyes, purposefully moving even slower as I make my way to the elevator. Elton’s waiting by the door like a puppy longing to see its owner, his tail wagging impatiently as he pants. It’s cute how excited he is to see his brother again, and I’m always happy if he’s happy, but I’m still filled with a sense of dread as we get into the truck we rented to head to his parents’ mansion.
I don’t know what my reaction will be to seeing Everest again. Not only seeing him, but being in close proximity like we used to be. My brain wants to recall the nice memories when we were younger, when he was innocent and sweet, bashful with his easy blushes and fluttering lashes. But all my adult mind can think of when his face appears behind my closed eyes is the way he ran from the scene, the fact that he never apologized for what he did, and how it changed my life.
“Why are you movingso slow?” Elton drags out dramatically. Taking a hold of my arm, he yanks me into the elevator, causing me to collide chest first with him. “Let’s go.”
“Forgive me for not being excited to be moving shit,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest, fingers itching fora cigarette. “You know it’s, like, a hundred degrees out today, right?”
“Oooo, a sweaty Rhys is a hot Rhys,” he purrs, flirtatiously climbing his fingers up my arm. “Wanna just lick it off you.”
I snort and bat his hand away. “You’re so weird.”
“Yet you love me,” he says with a shrug, pulling me out of the elevator once it reaches the underground basement.
Despite having enough money to hire movers, Elton decided to rent a truck instead and haul all of Everest’s shit himself. I think he’d use any excuse to spend time with his brother, no matter if manual labor in the middle of a Miami summer is involved.
Elton hates driving, so he quickly hands me the keys and worms his way into the passenger princess role. I don’t blame him because the traffic we’ll see on the interstate to get to his parents’ place is going to be brutal. We leave the parking garage and Elton fidgets with the radio the entire way there, singing some horrible country song at the top of his lungs, and rolling the windows down so everyone’s forced to hear it too. With traffic, it takes forty long minutes of hearing my best friend ruin Miranda Lambert for me to finally arrive.
As usual, I’m amazed when I make my way up the driveway. It’s a fantastic house. It’s modern, with sleek black and white lines. Balconies line each bedroom, with floor-to-ceiling windows so clear you can see inside the house. Their property sits on the edge of the water where their dock has one of their many boats parked and ready to go. The first time I came here, I was jealous as hell. Coming from sharing a dirty one-bedroom apartment with my parents tothiswas a shock, but Elton’s parents are the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever met. They haven’t let their wealth corrupt them, and I think that’s why I was always so comfortable coming over here.
