Page 62 of Burned By Sin
“Yes I can! Nikki does cheerleading, Rhys steals, lies, bullies?—”
“Okay enough of that,”I lean across the table and slap her hands away. We’re both grinning now as I sit back in my seat.“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
With the coffee cup in my hands, I watch the world blur around me. There’s a sale rack outside one of the stores, currently being attacked by a herd of short skirts and wedged sandals. It’s only when a group of girls from my study group pass by that it occurs to me that many of the shoppers out today are female and around our age.
I look closer at the levels above, seeing more than one Waversea sweatshirt leaning against the railings. Most have their hair freshly done and are examining freshly painted nails. They’re going all out, and they’re not even potentially the birthday boy’s date. I wish I could smile alongside them, to feel that giddiness rather than the heavy ache of my heart. Finishing the coffee, I put down the cup and shake my hand in the air for Addy’s attention.
“I’ve just realized there’s a party happening on campus tomorrow,and you’re not elbow-deep in a confetti cannon. Didn’t feel like micromanaging this one?” I’d meant to tease her, but as Addy tries to keep smiling, I don’t miss the flash of sadness in her eyes.
“After the disaster of the talent show, Mr. Waversea has hired a professional events company to do this one. Hopefully it’s a one off. I wouldn’t want my resume affected by a mishap.”I frown at my jeans, a lump lodging in my throat.
It’s not like I asked for my naked body to be splashed across a screen during the talent show, but I still feel guilty that my best friend is being penalized for it. Unless this is another way for Phillip Waversea to throw his weight around, proving he can control more than just my life. If I humiliate his son tomorrow, it might not only be me that suffers the consequences.
“Rhys is still convinced you’re behind it all. The video, the fire, and all the rest.”I smirk. Addy rolls her eyes, a small laugh coming from her.
“If I’d wanted to humiliate or hurt you, I had plenty of chances while you’re snoring and drooling in the bed next to me.”
“I don’t snore!”I sign, throwing a piece of muffin her way. She bats it away and sticks out her tongue, hollowing out her dermals. It’s laughable to think Addy could plan anything malicious around the thousands of extra-curriculars she takes on. She’s going to burn out soon, and hopefully I’m in a position to support her like she has me.
Not that she’s complaining about having the run of Rhys’ house and feasting on take out most nights, but she’s still firmly Team Clayton. If Addy has her way, we’ll be back in our dorm tomorrow night, a bittersweet ending to the sordid love triangle I’ve managed to juggle for this long. The thought sours my mood once again. There’s no winning at the end of this.
Spotting a tight mini dress through the crowd, I groan audibly. Why am I even surprised Klara and her minions are also in the mall, masses of designer bags hanging from their arms? To Addy’s credit, Idon’t see Nikki amongst those trailing Klara like flies sticking to shit. The queen bee spots me at the same time, her lips twisting into a snarl.
Any other day, I’d stand my ground, but currently I don’t have the energy for whatever bitchy thing Klara wants to say. Whatever doubt she wants to put into my head can wait. Signing to Addy that it’s time to go, we stand and head to the bespoke dress store on the upper level. The air is perfumed, the air con refreshing, yet my mind has checked out.
I let Addy drag me around, holding up dresses which I sigh and shrug at. The colors blur into a mass of straps and sequins, my mood scraping along the floor. All I can think is, what if I pick the wrong dress, the wrong boy, the wrong heart? Because tomorrow, everything changes and once a decision has been made, there’s no going back.
“Sure, that’s the one,” I relent and take a hanger out of Addy’s hand. She follows me to the register, trying to sign words of encouragement but I clasp her hands together and speak out loud. “It doesn’t matter, Addy. The dress, the shoes, the hair. It’s all pointless. I’m going to end up heartbroken either way.” Her frown reflects how I’m feeling inside as the cashier rings me up and accepts Rhys’ card. Accepting the bag on my behalf, Addy spins me and digs her hand into my pocket. Presenting my receivers, she urges me to put them on, refusing to be silenced this time.
“Since when does Harper Addams do as she’s told?” Her voice echoes in my head, her chocolate brown eyes darkening as she gets serious. “Just because the ball is in your court, doesn’t mean it has to stay there. Pick up your racket and smack that fucker back over the net.” My brow jerks, a puzzled look taking over my features.
“That’s a cute analogy and everything, but I don’t play tennis.” Addy groans, her eyes flying to the ceiling. She grabs my arms, giving me a light shake.
“You’ve been too distracted by the Man-Hulk and the Menace to notice you have all the control.” Again, my brow does a funny little twitch and I’m left staring at her in confusion.
“Have you been in Rhys’ weed stash?”
“I’m just saying,” Addy accentuates her words, pulling me down the aisle towards the mall. Her arm slips into the crook of mine, her sass coming back to life. “There are more than two choices. Expand that beautiful brain of yours. If you’re not happy with the options being presented to you, do something about it.”
Chapter Thirty Six
I tug on my cuff nervously, straightening the sleeve for what must be the hundredth damn time beneath my suit jacket. The fabric feels too stiff and too heavy, like it’s judging me for pretending to be someone I’m not.
Twenty years old today, and I’ve still yet to learn how to enjoy one of the suffocating gala nights my father organises. The endless champagne, the fake smiles, the brittle laughter, but this one’s different. Tonight, it’s not about donors or our family name. It's not even about my birthday. Tonight is all about Harper and the decision she’s about to make.
I roll my neck, shifting my shoulders again, not that it helps. The nerves crawling under my skin are relentless. They whisper words of doubt into my ear, convincing me I’m about to lose the only thing that matters to me. There’s nothing more I can do to sway Harper’s heart. The choice is all hers, and I’m going to have to live with whatever she decides.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, I assess my suit with a critical eye. The shirt is crisp white and unbuttoned to my chest, standing out in stark contrast to the dark tattoos covering my neck. There’s not acrease to be seen on my navy suit or a single part of my black loafers that isn’t shined to perfection.
My hazelnut hair is slicked back, the sides freshly trimmed short. I’ve switched my piercings for black metal and bathed in the new Paco Rabanne fragrance. Yeah, I’d do me. But still, I’m worried I might be ending this night alone and broken. There’d be no coming back for me. This is my one shot at happiness, the one and only time I’m going to open myself up to rejection.
At least I tried. For once in my goddamn life, Itried. I made her coffee while she read, quietly corrected her essays when she wasn’t looking, stayed up while she talked about everything and nothing until I couldn’t keep my hands off her for one more second. I attended her classes, sat through her study sessions, learned her moods, her silences, the way her laughter always came with a hint of apology. I even gave her space when she asked for it, space that nearly drove me insane.
But even with all of that, something in her eyes still stays just out of reach. There’s always a flicker of distance there, like a barrier I don’t know how to scale. Like a void that needs to be filled with love I might never be able to provide. I reckon that’s the part that terrifies me most. The possibility that no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to give her what she deserves.
My Rolex ticks past the hour, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s time. I stride out of the bathroom and lift the single, red rose from my dresser. Oh yes, I’m going all out. Leaving my room, I stare longingly down the hall and listen to the girl’s soft muttering seep beneath the door before making my way downstairs. Clayton is hunched over on my sofa, his eyes downcast and a frown pulling at his eyebrows.
“You’ll give yourself crow’s feet before she makes it downstairs,” I remark. Striding into the kitchen, I grab two whiskey glasses and pour a healthy dose into each one. “Come on, asshole. Join me for a drink. It is my birthday, after all.” Clayton eyes me curiously over his shoulder as I raise a glass in his direction. The guy looks like he needs this more than I do.
