Sitting beside me, Declan meets my gaze, his body twisted toward me, his leg pressed against mine. “Hi,” I say, running a finger down the length of his muscled arm.
“Hey,” he answers, catching my hand with his and bringing it to rest on his knee.
Resisting the urge to snatch it back, I lean closer, talking softly, “It must be lonely over there, surrounded by nothing but testosterone.”
He grins, his hand sliding up my arm to play with my hair. “Thank God you rescued me.”
“Oh, God had nothing to do with it.”
He chuckles softly, his expression telling me he thinks he’s scored his best goal. Our banter goes back and forth, my smile as fake as my words, and by the end of our lunch hour, he’s wrapped around my little finger—a puppet for me to command.
Leaving the courtyard, Declan on one side, Penelope on my other, I ignore Grayson’s questioning stare and Ashton’s anger. It’s time I moved on, leave the past in the past, and play the game I need to.
“Glad to see you decided to fix our little problem,” Penelope whispers, eyeing the other football players that soon followed Declan over to our table, leaving Ashton on his own. “Though I must admit, I was expecting you to go after Ashton, not Dec.”
I smile at her. “I don’t want Sophia’s sloppy seconds.” And I wish fixing Ash and me was as simple as smiling and spinning a few pretty words.
Turning the corner, I glance back, finding Grayson and Ashton walking together, black expressions hardening their faces. Well, at least they’re friends again.
As for me… I don’t have such luxuries.
My fate’s been set. My expectations delivered. It doesn’t matter if I lose myself with each day, if every smile on my face isn’t real. This is my life, my world, and I need to learn to live with it.
Chapter 18
Rose
The music vibrates through the air behind me as I watch the sun make its final descent below the skyline. The sky’s a darkening splash of deepest purple and orange, while the city skyscrapers are dark and looming, towers on the horizon. Leaning over the balcony railing, I peer down into the city as it comes to life in a display of lights, before straightening and taking a sip of the cocktail in my hand. The drink slides down my throat, a sweet concoction that I don’t enjoy. Happiness and pleasure can’t reach me tonight; there’s a niggling in the back of my head, a twist to my stomach that I can’t ignore. I’ve forgotten something. Something important. It’s there, lingering just out of my reach, close enough to haunt me, but not remember.
Signing heavily, I turn my back to Manhattan and focus on the party within. The trendy, electric-looking bar Penelope hired is already packed with drunk teenagers, despite the early hour. Canapes are being served by waiters as they roam the room, and drinks everywhere are being spiked, the staff overlooking the fact minors are drinking.
The colorful drink I sip doesn’t contain alcohol though; my stomach is already doing flips without those added effects, but as Declan spots me out on the balcony alone and heads my way, I think I might have to rectify that. Foreboding feeling or not, I’m going to need a little help to get through this night with him by my side.
“Hey, Rose,” Declan murmurs as he approaches. “I wondered where you’d gone.”
“I was just getting a bit off fresh air,” I reply, turning back to the city view once again, to avoid his touch.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder anyway, causing goose bumps to crawl across my skin as I push down the desire to step away. I don’t want to be here and if it wasn’t Penelope’s first birthday party out from under Sophia’s shadow, I’d have left and found somewhere to hide until this feeling haunting me went away.
“You’ll get a chill,” he says as I shiver. Stepping out of his hold, I turn my body to face him and plaster a smile on my face, but I’m off my game tonight. Out of sorts, and Declan can see through my thinly veiled mask. “Are you okay?” he asks, a line marring his brow.
“Yes… I….” His frown deepens. Damn it, Rose, get your act together. I shrug and hold up my glass. “This needs to be stronger.”
He grins. “I can help with that.” Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, Declan pulls free a flask and unscrews the top. “Vodka all right with you?”
“Perfect,” I reply. After he tops my glass up, I take the flask from his hand and take a few swings, before giving him it back and offering him the crook of my elbow. “Shall we go say happy birthday to Penelope?”
“She was by the massive stack of presents last time I saw her.”
I smile. “What did you get her?”
He shrugs. “No idea, my mother bought and wrapped it.”
Here’s your in!
“Elizabeth, right? She holds this masquerade ball everyone is excited about.”
“Yes.” He groans. “I’m fed up of hearing her talk about the thing to be honest.”
I laugh gently, squeezing his arm lightly. “Not a fan of masks and ball gowns?”
He looks me up and down, taking in the short dress I’m wearing. “I like dresses a little shorter.” Giggling, I playfully slap his chest as I die a little inside. “But honestly,” he continues, “I’m just fed up of hearing her complain about all the issues. The guy who was planning it ended up sleeping with someone he shouldn’t, and it’s turned into a big boring drama I’m really not interested in.”
“I can totally relate. My mother is an event planner, and she is always complaining about this thing and that or asking my opinion on fabric swatches and table linen.” I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance. “As if I care which color beige she picks.”
“Speaking of the masquerade, do you have a date yet?” Declan asks.
I smile sweetly. “No.”
Bringing us to a halt, Declan steps in front of me and into my space, his hand coming up to caress my face as he studies me. “Go with me?”
My lips lift as my stomach falls. You want this… this is your plan. I nod my approval, afraid if I open my mouth, the truth might fall out.
Eyes growing hungry, Declan’s gaze falls to my lips, and I know he’s going to kiss me before he leans in. I brace myself, closing my eyes and imagining it’s anyone but him. I don’t understand why Declan bothers me so much; I’ve kissed Grayson, slept with him, used him to piss off Ashton. This scheme with Declan isn’t about Ashton, but it should be no different. Yet as his lips slide across mine and his hand glides down my back, I feel no pleasure, no warmth. I’m cold, empty… no better than a whore.
“There you are!” Penelope squeals, practically dragging me from Declan’s arms. “It’s my birthday. Come dance with me!”
“Do you mind?!” Declan growls.
Penelope waves him away. “Oh, you can attack her face later. Today’s about me.”
I throw an apologetic glance Declan’s way as Penelope slides her arm through mine and leads me to the dance floor. Inside, I’m eternally grateful she interrupted us.
“Are you having fun?” I ask as we spin onto the dance floor and sway to the beat of the music.
“The best,” Penelope replies, her enthusiasm helped along by the cocktails I’ve seen her guzzling.
Taking her hand, I twirl her around, my smile becoming real as Penelope laughs happily, and for the next while, the cloud hanging over my head clears and the expression on my face isn’t forced. I dance, I giggle, I enjoy my friend, and the crown doesn’t feel so heavy on my head.
***
Pushing through the heavy door, I gulp down a lungful of cool night air as I step onto the rooftop. It’s as if I’m drowning, slowly being suffocated by the expectations that are a noose around my neck. I’ve lost patience for tolerating the company I kept three drinks ago, and if I have to experience Declan sliding his hand up my dress one more time, I’ll scream and rip his hair out. It’s bad enough dealing with his mouth on mine and his hips gyrating into me as we danced, without wandering hands coming into the mix. To make matters worse, Grayson had been watching me
from the bar, his look as sinister as his reputation. It wasn’t jealousy hidden in the depths of his dark brown eyes, but something I can’t quite grasp. Disappointment maybe, but I can’t for the life of me understand why he’d be disappointed in me.
I owe him nothing. We are nothing. Yet I’d have given anything for it to have been Grayson’s body pressed against mine, his voice whispering in my ear. Anyone’s would have been better than Declan’s. There’s something wrong with him, something dark, and nothing at all like the charming allure Grayson wields.
Sinking to the ground, uncaring of the dirt I’ll get on my dress, I let out a sigh and fight the tears burning at the back of my eyes. It’s not just Declan bothering me. There’s more. My heart knows it, but my brain hasn’t caught up.
Or maybe it doesn’t want to catch up, because if this nausea and ache rolling through me is anything to go by, whatever I’ve forgotten is going to cut deep and bleed.
Tipping my head back, I stare at the starless sky. There’s a dampness in the air that warns of a storm in the distance. It builds like the pressure inside me, never quite clear when it will blow, and as I close my eyes and one tear makes an escape, I think about the letter I received this morning from my father and it hits me.
All of the air leaves my lungs in a painful rush, the sound escaping with it animalistic.
How could I forget?
Tears flow down my cheeks, my heart lurching painfully as I struggle for breath. Sobbing, my finger falls to the ground, drawing a pattern in the dust and gravel as drops of sorrow splash onto the rooftop.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” I whisper hoarsely, once my drawing of a cake is finished. “I miss you.”
My words die, lost to the sounds of my pain. Guilt, longing, loneliness, it all courses through me; a cocktail far more lethal than any alcohol I’ve drank. And in a way, I’m pleased my father isn’t here, because if he was, he’d not recognize me. He’d see I’ve become the plastic queen he begged me not to be.
“Rose?”
Shooting up to my feet, I turn my face away from Ashton as I wipe frantically at my face, hoping I’ll somehow be able to conceal the fact I’m crying.
“Rose, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I lie. I didn’t even hear the door open; I was so lost in my grief.
“No, you’re not,” Ashton answers softly. His footfalls crunch on the gravel as he steps toward me, but I don’t have the strength to face him. “Talk to me.”
“Why?” I snap, some of my anger returning. “You don’t care about me.” He’s made it abundantly clear he can never forgive me for the video.
His fingers touch my bare shoulder, sending a shudder through me. “I do and you know it.” His words are just a whisper, but they lodge into my brain as if he’d yelled, shattering whatever defense I had left and leaving me stripped bare.
I cry out, my knees going weak as the tears I worked so hard to erase fall fresh and fast over my face.
“Please,” I beg, not even sure what it is I’m asking for.
“Oh, Rose,” he breathes, his fingers walking over my skin and wrapping around my front to turn me into him. “Come here.”
I go, unable to resist as his warmth—his strength—wraps around me, and at last I’m safe enough to fall. To let go, to sink into the agony beckoning me, knowing he’ll be there to pull me out.
I’m supposed to hate him. I’m not supposed to care, but as Ashton holds me, his arms a shield against the world, I realize that even though I hate him, he’ll always be the person I love, even when we don’t know how to be together.
Chapter 19
Ashton
The Rose I know is defiant, fierce. A storm no one wants to stand before, but as she falls apart in my arms, finally whispering what is causing her so much anguish, I find none of the usual fire inside her. It’s as if she’s crumpled within herself. She’s vulnerable, fragile, and no matter the bad blood between us, my heart cannot turn away from her.
Holding her tightly, I wait out the sorrow, until her tears aren’t as fast, and her sobs aren’t as uncontrollable.
“Come on, Rose. I’m taking you home,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. She tenses, and I don’t have to hear her fears to know what they are—a queen cannot show weakness. “I won’t let anyone see you. We’ll slip out a side entrance the employees use.”
As I guide her along, arm over her shoulder, keeping her tucked against my side, I message Grayson to have the car brought around but away from the front entrance. His reply comes almost immediately, informing me he’ll be there and the fact he did as I asked and didn’t question why I wanted to leave undetected shows just how far the two of us have come.
It’s weirdly nice in the penthouse since Arthur left and Grayson moved back in. My mother has picked up, even cooked us a few meals to eat as a family. There’s no tension, no undercurrents or push and pull of power, and although my mother is sad and struggling with her addiction, I’d not change the situation. I’d not wish for Arthur’s return. Without him there, the illusions we wore like an expensive suit have faded away and beneath we are raw, exposed, but unbelievably true. And after so long living a lie, being someone I’m not, doing things I regret, there is something freeing about being broken down to the bare bones of who you are.
“How are we getting home?” Rose murmurs quietly as the exit comes into sight.
“I messaged Gray. We came together. He’s having the car brought around for us,” I explain.
She looks up, a little of her spark dancing in her eyes. “It’s almost as if you’re friends.”
“I know.” I smile. “Weird, isn’t it?”
When we push out into the night, a cold breeze whips past us and the clouds that have been gathering above us choose that moment to open. Large wet droplets fall from the sky, angry and violent, drenching us in seconds as we run for the limousine, which has just pulled up. Grayson opens the door before we reach it, briefly leaning out and waving us over before disappearing inside the car, and I bundle Rose in quickly, following directly after her.
Slamming the door, I let out a rushed breath, brushing my hair out of my eyes as Rose lets out a bark of laughter. Turning to watch her, it seems the rain has washed away some of her sorrow, and she rubs her arms up and down, shaking her head. “Just when I think this night can’t get any worse, the heavens decide to punish me as well,” she mutters. “I’m soaked.”
I’m not much better. The pale blue shirt I’m wearing is near see-through and plastered to my skin.
“Here,” Grayson murmurs, shrugging out of the jacket he’s wearing. “You can borrow this.”
Grayson settles the jacket over her shoulders, momentarily squeezing her close, and as he does, as a surge of jealously shoots through me as she graces him with a smile, her hand reaching up and brushing his fingers briefly.
I’ve watched her throughout the night with Declan, my rage growing the more he touched her. Rose had put on a good game, played her role well, but I could see it for what it was—an act. A game she must play to get whatever it is she wants. I saw every shudder she couldn’t suppress, every lapse as her smile fell, but when she looks at Grayson… it’s real.
Rose likes him. Grayson is her friend, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
You have no right to feel like anything remember, stupid?
Clenching my jaw at the annoying voice in my head reminding me just how spectacularly I’ve fucked things up, I force away my jealousy and try to remember it’s better for Rose to have more than one person looking out for her.
“Turn up the heat, please,” I say, leaning forward in my seat, instructing the driver to take us to Rose’s building.
As I settle back into my seat, Rose does too, her body leaning once again into mine and any jealousy I felt dissolves.
“Do I need to ruin Declan?” Grayson asks after the cars pulled away. “Because believe me, there is a shitload of dirt there for me to play with.”
&n
bsp; Déjà vu washes over me and for a moment, it isn’t Rose beside me but Sophia. We are the royalty of Albany, bound together by twisted agendas, and Grayson is our puppet master, tugging our strings, scripting our story and tweaking our plot for his own advantage.
But then Rose speaks, shattering the memory. “If I wanted to destroy Declan, I could do it myself, Gray. I’m upset because it’s my father’s birthday, and I was so caught up in this fake, empty life to remember.”
Sophia never questioned Grayson. Her every thought was manipulated by him. If she wanted something done, Grayson would tell her how. Rose is far stronger, even broken on her knees.
“Damn… I’m sorry, Rose,” Grayson says solemnly. She shrugs, sadness creeping back over her face. “There’s a delectable bottle of aged whiskey back in my father’s office. I found it locked away in his safe. Would you like to come back to ours and finish it off for him?” He smirks wickedly. “I find petty revenge cheers me up when I’m feeling low.”
Rose laughs and I hold my breath, because as much as I’d love to drag this night with her out, I’m not sure more alcohol is going to do her any good; in fact, I think it will lead to more regret and there’s already enough of that between us.
“As appealing as that sounds, I think it’s best I go home.” Rose sighs heavily, her head resting against my shoulder. “I’ve had enough to drink for one night.”
She falls silent and Grayson peers at me above her head. He notes our closeness, her head nestled on me, and I see the questions forming in his gaze and if I’m not mistaken, longing.
Grayson Bishop truly cares for her, and I’m not sure how I’m going to keep it from not coming between us. Because pact or not, I’ve never not known Grayson want something and not go for it.
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 9