Page 50 of Call It What You Want
“You’re hiding something,” I throw back. “You always are.”
He scoffs, the sound bitter. “You’re the fourth person to accuse me of that in two days.”
“Because it’strue,” I snap. “You’re a closed book. Everything about you screams secrets.”
I can’t see his face, but I imagine his lips twist into something cold. “And what about you, Doe-eyes? You’re seriously going to stand there and say you’ve got nothing to hide?”
My heart slithers up my throat and lodges there. I suddenly feel sick.
“No,” I blurt, too fast. “I mean—what would I even be hiding?”
He takes a step closer, voice dropping to a near-growl. “You tell me.”
Despite the cold air, the heat between us turns suffocating. I can’t breathe around it. So I turn on my heel and stomp back toward the glow of the bonfire, pretending I don’t feel his gaze burning a hole between my shoulder blades. He’s smart enough not to follow me this time.
I told him I was going to bed, but sleep is the last thing on my mind. Instead, I plant myself near one of the bonfires and let the heat spread across my skin. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he grabs a beer and melts back into the crowd, like nothing happened.
“Hey. How are you holding up?”
The voice drags me back to the present, and I glance up to see Eve standing beside me, with another girl lingering a step behind her. I don’t recognize her.
I flash Eve a tight smile. “I was just thinking about walking into the ocean and letting it swallow me whole. Other than that, I’m doing great.”
“Yeah, the Sacred Sons can have that effect,” she says, turning to the girl next to her. “This is Wyn. She’s with Lucas.”
I have no idea which one is Lucas, but honestly, I’m not going to be at Rush House long enough for it to matter, anyway. Two weeks. That’s what Jackson promised me, and I’m holding onto that deadline with white knuckles.
“Cocktail?” Wyn asks, holding a can out to me. “I grabbed it for Lux, but she already has a drink.”
Sure, why not? What’s one more mystery drink added to the mix of toxic sludge I’ve swallowed over the last couple of days?
“Thanks.” I pop the can open and take a drink without bothering to check the label. It’s good—coconut with a hint of pineapple to cut through the bite of alcohol. Perfect. I inhale half the can in one gulp.
“You might want to slow down,” Wyn says with a laugh. “Those drinks are strong.”
“I’m good,” I say unapologetically. “In fact, the faster I blackout, the better. Then I won’t have to remember this shitshow of a night.”
“Uh, yeah,” Wyn says. “I can’t say I blame you. Burning Crown initiations are always brutal. Especially for us girls.”
I’m guessing her comment is supposed to comfort me, or make me feel less alone, but it doesn’t. It only proves just how fucked-up this place is, and now, whether I like it or not, I’m a part of it.
Love that for me.
“And you guys don’t see a problem with that?” I ask, trying not to sound too critical. They’re just trying to be nice. But, damn, it’s hard to hold the judgment in. Because, at the end of the day, they chose this. I didn’t.
“Well, usually, the initiates come willingly, so it’s less…forced…” Wyn says, glancing at Eve for help.
“Yeah, um, your situation was obviously an exception…” Eve says, her tone apologetic. “It’s not really supposed to happen like that.”
“Lucky me,” I say, taking another long pull from the piña colada. “Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised. This whole thing is just another way for Jackson to control me.”
Wyn clucks her tongue. “To be fair, it’s not just him. All the Sacred Sons have serious control issues. It’s part of their charm–”
“Let’s not do that—” I say, cutting her off. Rudely, I’ll admit. “Let’snotromanticize brutal, selfish men and their weak excuses for being cruel.”
Wyn immediately sobers. “Oh, um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
Ugh,shit. Guilt instantly knots in my stomach. Eve and Wyn are just trying to be nice, and here I am, going off on them.
