Текст книги "Just Me"

Автор книги: L.A. Fiore

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

He linked our fingers and a tender smile touched his lips. “I hope I fill your happy place with memories.”

“You're doing really good so far.”

His hold on my hand tightened and though he didn't say anything, I had a feeling he was thinking a great deal. “I should get you home.” He said. “But Lark?”

I looked up into those eyes and saw mischief brewing. “What?”

“Paybacks are a bitch.”

Chapter Six

After school one day, Bastian took me to the local diner for dinner. Once we were seated across from each other, the waitress, Peggy, came over to take our order and as she walked away, I wondered if her red hair was natural.

Bastian's attention was on me when my focus turned back to him. He seemed a bit off—distracted might be a better word. “What's wrong?”

He fiddled with his fork, but when I asked this, his fingers stilled. He glanced up at me. “My birthday is coming up, which means I'm required to go to the club with my parents for dinner.” Another hesitation before he added, “I know it's sort of sudden, but any chance you'll come with me?”

“When's your birthday?”

“October 6th.”

“Good to know. What's the club?”

“Pearl River Country Club.”

Ostentatious was the word that came to mind in regards to the club and certainly not the place I would picture Bastian. “And you want me to have dinner with you and your parents there?”

He didn't answer with words, but then his direct and searching gaze was answer enough. I couldn't lie—I was thrilled that he wanted me with him. The heady sensation didn't last for long though because the thought of meeting his parents terrified me. “When?” I asked warily.

“In two weeks.” He reached across the table for my hand, “What's wrong?”

“I've never met parents before and I suspect that yours aren't going to like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they're pro-Kira.”

“Pro-Kira’s parents, not so much Kira.”

“Well, my aunt and uncle are middle-class. My mom was a drug-using alcoholic, so I'm guessing I'm way down on their list of eligible ladies.”

“Do you really care, Lark?”

I cared how I would become one more thing in his life that they'd find unacceptable, particularly since we were just getting to know each other. “I care how being with me will come back on you. Maybe you should take Kira.”

“I'll take you or I'll go alone.” The belligerence in his tone made me cave. He was adorable when grumpy.

“Okay, I'll go with you.”

Surprise flashed over his face in response. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The smile that took over his entire face formed his only reply.

All through dinner, I tried not to worry about meeting his parents and failed. Bastian, sensing my mood, reached across the table for my hand again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I tried for a smile but it wasn't a very convincing one.

Bastian knew where my thoughts were when he said, “It's just dinner. The rest doesn't matter. They don't matter.”

I wanted to believe that but I had a terrible feeling that we were going to be over before we ever really had a chance to get started.

***

Pep rally. Two small and innocuous words, but at my school, pep rallies were anything but. The coach of the football team, Coach Farlay, had taken the concept of school spirit and turned it into something very similar to the pagan rituals I imagined the gods performed in the days of old. No one died during these heathen gatherings of the student body, but someone was always sacrificed. In truth, it was the coach's wife who was behind the theatrics of the pep rally. She trained as a thespian, but when her dream of Broadway didn't pan out, she pursued her second passion, teaching. Through the years she managed to take over directing the school's musicals. Clearly it wasn't just the musicals she had an influence over.

The football team selected one unsuspecting female from the audience and she became Victory. She was dragged from the bleachers and a football jersey pulled over her head before being lifted into the air by the football team to the cheers and chants of the entire school. That wasn't all, oh no. Then a boy was selected as the Guardian of Victory. They were handcuffed together—this was really just symbolic since the handcuffs didn't require a key which made it easy for Victory and her Guardian to separate when nature called—and for the rest of the day Victory and her Guardian had to go to one another's classes. As her last act of school spirit, on the night of the game, Victory led the football team out onto the field. In all honesty, the student body loved the entire practice and most were eager to be Victory or her Guardian. I, however, was not a fan. Although I did love that it was all so left of center, and that it wasn't just the students but also the administration who ate it up.

I had somehow managed in my high school career to avoid ever being Victory—yet another benefit of blending into the woodwork. So there I sat, continuing to blend into my surroundings, sinking just a little bit lower on the bleachers to avoid eye contact with every person on the gym floor.

“This is so exciting. I hope they pick me.” Sophia was practically jumping up and down.

“Sophia, stop drawing attention.”

“It's all in good fun. It wouldn't hurt for you to be Victory just once.”

“I'd rather have back surgery.”

As I sat there wondering just how painful back surgery was, I felt a warmth shimmy down my spine and looked up to see Bastian making his way up the bleachers to me. What the hell was he doing? Not that I wasn't happy to see him, especially since he was coming to sit with me, but he was drawing attention which made my attempts at invisibility moot.

“Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing?”

He only answered by grinning. Coach Farlay's voice echoed throughout the gym.

“It's time to pick Victory!”

Everyone launched to their feet, screaming like they were being murdered, while I tried to sink even lower. I felt Bastian's hand wrap around mine and at first I felt a wave of warmth over the gesture until a moment of clarity filled me. He wouldn’t. I tried to pull my hand from his, but couldn't. My gaze flew up only to see him smiling down at me like a lunatic.

“What are you doing?”

He leaned over so that our mouths were almost touching. “Payback, Victory.”

“But how? You aren't even on the football team.”

“No, but several of the guys on the team owed me a favor. I cashed in.”

“You're new. How could they possibly already owe you a favor?”

No reply, but he looked really pleased with himself.

“Not fair!” I tried to dig in my heels, but Bastian had almost a foot and a hundred pounds on me. He started dragging me down the bleachers to Coach Farlay, while I plotted his murder: something painful and bloody and slow.

There I stood, next to Coach Farlay, as the gym went berserk. I glanced at Bastian who looked downright diabolical. “I'm going to cut you up into very small pieces.”

He leaned over so our eyes met. “Do your worst.”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, a jersey was being pulled over my head seconds before I was lifted off the ground. This mortification had me rethinking Bastian's death. Death was too easy. No, I was going to chain him in a dungeon and torture him for the rest of his natural-born life. Yes, that sounded perfect.

When my feet finally hit the floor, I was ready to dart for the closest exit. I felt the handcuffs click closed over our wrists. All of a sudden, an entirely different emotion filled me at the sight of being tied to this boy. Despite the humor I saw burning in his eyes, I saw something else infinitely more exciting.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We get to spend all day together.”

And just like that, I didn't mind at all being Victory.

After the assembly, Bastian and I were nearly the last to leave, but before we did, Brad, the captain and quarterback of the football team, joined us.

“Thanks for being Victory.”

“I didn't really have a choice, but you're welcome,” I said.

“I'd love to know what you did to him that this was your payback.”

“It was nothing as drastic as this, but I'm already planning my revenge.”

“Sweet. See you guys tonight.”

Bastian's voice grabbed my attention. “Our paybacks are like a snow boulder picking up speed downhill.” The hand that wasn't linked to mine reached out to touch my cheek. “I look forward to your next move.”

I smiled sweetly, but said nothing.

“So, Victory, whose class should we go to now?”

“Since I have gym, I'm thinking yours.”

Something hot flashed in his eyes. “The temptation of seeing all those babes changing is overwhelming for you, I’m sure,” I said. “But I don't think the females in my gym class are ready for you.”

He touched my chin to hold my gaze on his, “I don't give a damn about the other girls in your class, but I’d like to see more of you.”

As you may have guessed, my knees went weak. I held his wicked stare, though my voice trembled. “Do they teach you guys how to render females mute and overly warm? Because you've nailed that lesson.”

“No, but I like watching you get flustered and knowing that it's because of me.” It wasn't just his words, but his direct and heated stare that caused my body to react in a very pleasant way. I tingled everywhere.

“Stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to pass out right here on the gymnasium floor, and you'll have to drag my unconscious body to your next class. What is your next class?” I asked.

“AP Calculus. And I wouldn't drag your beautiful body across the floor. I'd put you over my shoulder.”

“Like a sack of potatoes.”

He winked. “The sexiest sack of potatoes I've ever seen.”

***

We spent the entire day together and he did add a few more memories to my happy place. After school I went home with Poppy. We went to her room after dinner to get ready for the football game. She couldn't help the grin which seemed to be permanently affixed to her mouth.

“I almost fell off the bleachers when I saw Bastian pulling you toward Coach Farlay. To think you avoided the hot seat all these years only to be placed on it by the boy you like.”

“I'm having a dungeon made, so it's all good. He certainly took payback to the next level.”

“It was more than that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I was sitting in the stands, remember? He is completely head over heels for you. And you are just as taken with him.”

“I am.” I admitted.

“So it looks like operation “Win Sebastian” is a done deal. What? What's that look for?”

“Ms. Whitney applied for a scholarship for me, one that was separate from the list we had worked on together, and I won it.”

“Oh, my God! That's so wonderful, Lark.”

“It is, but there's a hitch. I have to move to Harrington, Maine, at the end of April.”

It only took Poppy a minute to realize what I was saying and then she sank back onto the bed next to me. “You'll miss prom.”

“Yep.”

“Does Bastian know?”

“I haven't told him, yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“He asked me to join him and his parents for his birthday dinner in two weeks.”

“That's awesome.”

“I'm not so sure it is. His parents are pushing Kira on him because they like the connections her family has to offer. When they find out about me and my background, I'm guessing they will do all they can to get him away from me.”

“It doesn't seem to me that Bastian puts a whole hell of a lot of stock in what his parents want.”

“He doesn't, but I don't want to become another source of tension between him and his family.”

“Stop.”

“Think about it. I have no idea who my dad is. My mother died in her twenties from being too much of a party girl, and my aunt would rather me somewhere else. To people like the Rosses, I'm the nightmare.”

Poppy looked positively outraged. “You're thinking there’ll be no point after the dinner, that's why you haven't told him about the scholarship.”

“Yes.”

“That's not fair to Bastian. You’re not giving him enough credit, and that's not like you.”

I stood then, because I knew she was right, but I couldn't help it. “You're right, but I can't forget where he comes from. As much as he may try to deny it, he cares what his parents think.”

“Probably, but so what?”

“I won't measure up for the Ross family, and that will cause problems between Bastian and his parents. And my fear is he'll choose them and I won't recover from it.”

“I don't think he will choose them over you.”

“A part of me hopes that too, but a bigger part of me still lives in reality.”

***

The game started at seven so Bastian would be coming for me a little after six. I didn't let Poppy dress me. In front of a stadium full of people, I needed to wear my own clothes: my own personal armor. The black cargo pants, cropped black sweater and combat boots felt very comfortable and comforting. I reached for Bastian's jacket before calling to Poppy, “See you at the game.”

“See you there, Victory.”

Shaking my head at Poppy's silliness, I stepped outside to wait for Bastian. He was right on time. In the short period of time since we'd known each other, he also had come to be both comfortable and comforting to me. Not to mention that he was just so freaking nice to look at. To my horror, I actually spoke that last part out loud. I knew he heard me because his eyes turned all hot, but it was the light color on his cheeks that had me taking a step closer. “If I didn't know any better, I would say you were blushing.”

“I don't blush.” He pulled me up against him, but his voice was a bit off. His mouth found mine and his hands moved under my sweater to burn a trail over the naked skin of my back. His eyes darkened like sapphires when he reached for the helmet to place on my head.

“Later, I'm going to make you blush.”

And right on cue, my knees went weak.

***

I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived at the stadium, but I didn't have time to ponder that because as Victory, I was spotted almost instantly, and a crowd formed around Bastian and me. We made our way through the stadium to where the football team waited. I felt like a turkey on Thanksgiving; all trussed up moments before being devoured.

Bastian's hand clenched mine the entire time even though the handcuffs had been removed at the end of the school day. It seemed he really liked holding my hand. When it came time for me to lead the team out onto the field, he reluctantly released his hold on me.

I didn't know what possessed me, but I gripped his sweater in my fist and pulled him to me so I could seal my lips over his. I caught him by surprise and moved away before he could take the kiss deeper, because feeling what I did for this boy, I might forget a stadium full of people watched.

He couldn’t respond—I had rendered Bastian mute and, I suspected under his lovely sweater, overly warm.

“Are you ready, Larkspur?” Brad asked from my side.

“Yeah, and call me Lark.”

He grinned. “Okay, Lark.”

After I led the team into the stadium to the roar of the crowd, Brad touched my arm to get my attention. “Whenever you plan on seeking revenge, let me know.”

“I might just take you up on that. Bastian deserves it.”

Another grin curved his lips. “Thanks again.” His focus moved to something just behind me and I saw a twinkle in those eyes. He kissed my cheek, slipped on his helmet and ran toward the sidelines. I swear he was laughing. I wondered what that was all about until I turned and saw Bastian. Oh, Brad, you wicked boy. The look in Bastian's eyes had my heart beating wildly. It shouldn't bring me pleasure to see Bastian jealous, but it did all the same. As I made my way to the sideline and him, I noticed the cheerleaders, Mica in particular, looking in my direction. Actually Mica appeared to be looking at me, but instead of the censure I always got when my eyes found her blue ones, she looked upset. Maybe it was scared. A part of me wanted to ask her what was wrong, because seeing her vulnerable, when she had always been a mega-bitch all through our schooling, was unnatural and unnerving.

Reaching Bastian, I pressed myself right up against him and kissed him senseless. Not too senseless because he pulled me even closer and kissed me back.

It took me a minute to recover and when I did, I peered up at him through my lashes. “You were jealous.”

He didn't even bother trying to deny it. “Hell, yes.”

“Nothing to be jealous about.”

He said nothing, but he looked at me with such possession. “I spotted Poppy and Shawn. Do you want to join them?”

“Okay.” Was all my fuzzy brain could manage since I still basked in the glory of knowing that Bastian was jealous.

I couldn’t make out Poppy and Shawn in the crowd until they both waved as we approached. “Nice job, Victory,” Shawn said.

“I'm going to put the experience on my resume,” I said just before I heard Sophia calling me.

“Oh, no.” I lowered my head and my shoulders slumped.

“You have to go,” Poppy said.

“I know.”

“Go where?” Bastian asked.

“The drum line has this little dance they do in the stands before the game starts.” Poppy said. “Lark was sitting with Sophia when they did it the first time. Since the team won, they do it for every game. It’s become sort of a good luck thing.”

A big smile spread over Bastian's face. “Well go. I'm looking forward to seeing this.”

I stuck my tongue out at him before I turned and started up the bleachers. I kind of liked the dance and that Sophia and the others didn't care what anyone thought as they shook their booties. Doing the dance in front of Bastian was a bit embarrassing, but I sucked it up and did the same and as usual had a hell of a good time.

Later, Bastian drove me back to Poppy's, but he detoured to our spot near the river. He parked while I pondered the evening. The football team won and so my stint as Victory became surprisingly satisfying.

I climbed off, removed my helmet and turned in time to see Bastian swing his leg over his bike. He said nothing as he moved right into me, but instead of feeling crowded and uncomfortable as I usually did when someone infringed on my personal space, I craved his nearness. Heat licked down my arms and legs. Pressed from chest to thigh, his mouth captured mine for a kiss that fried at least a thousand of my brain cells. It wasn't an exploratory kiss like our first one, it was all about conquering, possessing and owning but which of us was the aggressor was unclear as our mouths and tongues warred. There were so many emotions moving across his features when he looked at me.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“How it's possible to know someone for so short a time and be so completely addicted to them. And I am completely hooked on you.”

I couldn't help feeling smug when I replied. “Enough to make you jealous?”

“I wanted to rip Brad's head off and I like that guy.” His finger brushed along my jaw, before his thumb rubbed over my lower lip. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I do.”

“I want to see you tomorrow night, but I have to work. Come to the garage with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Caden and Kale are working tomorrow night too. We can order a pizza or something. Say yes.”

“Yes.”

Clearly he liked my answer—his mouth captured mine and for a good long time we didn't say anything at all.

Chapter Seven

Bastian's garage wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't just a place to work. It was like a family and their boss, Calvin Carter, was the reason. A nicer and more down to earth person I didn't think I'd ever met. His genuine friendliness immediately put you at ease and yet he was no pushover, you could see that in the set of his shoulders and the intellect shining out of his warm hazel eyes. Eyes that found mine as soon as we entered.

A smile curved his lips. “Bastian mentioned he was bringing his girlfriend tonight. I'm Cal.”

“Lark. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. There are jumpers in the back room if you want to get under the hood.”

I wouldn't know a carburetor from a brake line. “I think I'll just watch.”

“Don't let them eat all the pizza.” He leaned closer and added, “I usually take three slices and hide them because Caden has a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

“Good to know, thanks.”

“Aren't you staying?” Bastian asked.

“No, I've got to get home,” said Cal. “It's lasagna night.”

“No fair.” Hearing that whine from Caden made me grin.

“Next time, boys.” He started away from us but added, “If you want to punch out before eight, that's cool with me. Nice to meet you, Lark.”

“You too.”

Kale and Caden were already working. Their open blue jumpsuits exposed the tanks they had on underneath. They both called a hello to me before they got back to work. I had no idea what they were doing under the hoods of those cars, but clearly they were very comfortable doing it.

Bastian wore a similar jumpsuit, but he had the arms tied around his waist. His black tank beautifully showcased his inked arms. He kept his hair from his eyes by pulling it back with a bandana skullcap.

He walked me to the bay with the Impala where I settled on a stool near the worktable.

“There's soda in the fridge. Diet Coke, since I know you like it.”

He stocked my favorite soda in his work's refrigerator. “I think you like me,” I said teasingly.

“There's no think about it.”

He made no move to leave me, so I smiled and waved my hand at him. “Go. Do whatever it is you do; I'll be fine.”

He glided his lips across mine. “I'm really glad you came tonight.”

I had intended to work on my homework, but one look at him bent over the car looking so confident and sexy and I had to sketch him. I grabbed my sketchpad and pencils and lost myself in the drawing.

It felt oddly intimate to smooth out the line of his shoulder and blend it into the curve of his back. His profile set in firm lines while he worked. I took a moment to perfect the curve of his forehead, the line of his nose, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw, but it was the mouth that took me some time to perfect, especially in a face as sharp as his. I wanted to capture the sensual fullness of those lips, and when I ran my finger over the charcoal lines, I couldn't help my smile.

Once I was comfortable I had the overall image complete, I focused on his tattoos. His left arm had a depiction of the mythical creature the siren—half-beautiful woman and half-bird. Her wings matched the long flowing black of her hair. She sat on a cliff of green so bright it reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Ireland. Surrounding her, vibrant and cheerfully-hued flowers contrasted with angry, dark sapphire surf, which churned and crashed against the rocks. Her hands were extended in a delicate, almost ballerina-like, gesture as she lured the small sailboat toward her and certain death against the jagged shore.

His other arm depicted the Three Fates. Their hands all touched one long piece of string as Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis measured out how long a life it was to be and Atropos cut the thread in death. They weren't depicted as young and beautiful women, but as hooded figures working their thread in front of an old oak tree which I could only assume was the Tree of Life. Most of the work on his right arm was done in black with only accents of color like a green oak leaf, a golden pair of shears, and the thread of life itself which was a deep royal purple.

I’d stopped working and just watched Bastian, reading his ink. The others had gone into the back to eat dinner, so we had a bit of privacy. I placed my sketch down and walked over to him. His head lifted to me when I stopped just in front of him.

A smile spread over his face. “Hey, beautiful.”

I ran a finger over his arm. I watched my movement a moment before I raised my eyes to his. “This represents how you don't want to be put into a mold. The siren represents your parents or anyone in your life trying to make you conform. To be lured in by them and to follow their will and not your own would be death for you—not of the body, but of the soul.”

He straightened from his position, but his focus never wavered from me. “Go on.”

“The Fates. I'm guessing they signify that when you're born, how long you live and your death are certain, but everything in between is unwritten and the providence of free will and not Fate.” I held his intense gaze and asked, “How did I do?”

“Like you were right beside me when I had them done. How did you know?”

“I know you, so it was easy to figure out.”

In the next breath, his lips molded to mine in the sweetest of kisses: a kiss that was about more than desire. It was about connecting, like a key sliding into a lock. He held my gaze for the longest time before he said, “I am so fucking addicted to you.” Still reeling from that pronouncement, he went for the jugular. “I'm falling in love with you.”

There weren't words that could accurately express how I felt hearing that from this boy. I replied with the simple truth. “I've already fallen.”

The stark honesty of his expression in response would stay with me always.

***

The long-dreaded Saturday night had arrived: the night of Bastian's birthday dinner. I sat at Poppy's dressing table and watched as she attempted to twist my hair into some kind of elegant up-do. Sophia was behind us rummaging through Poppy's closet.

“This isn't me,” I said.

“You don't know what is ‘you.’ Just let me have my way and if you don't like it, I'll take it down.”

“Fine.”

A half an hour later, when she told me I could look, I was speechless. She had somehow braided part of my hair, then pulled those braids back into a messy knot that she secured at the nape of my neck. It was so utterly elegant and yet so me. I beamed with approval.

Sophia came to stand next to us, a smile spreading over her face. “You're good, Poppy.”

“She is. You are a genius. I will never, ever doubt you again,” I said.

“Good. Now let's work on the clothes.”

Poppy let me borrow one of her cocktail dresses, a simple black crepe fitted sheath with long sheer chiffon sleeves accented at the shoulders with black bead work. The hem fell to mid-thigh. To top off the beautiful ensemble, Poppy's mom let me borrow her Christian Louboutin black platform pumps. I felt like Cinderella on the way to the ball. I could only hope that my evening fared better than her ill-fated one.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” Sophia asked.

My laugh sounded strained even to me. “I am. I'm worried about his parents.”

Poppy's face pinched with temper. “Bastian won't let his parents do anything. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

Easier said than done. My nerves intensified at the sound of the doorbell but it wasn't thoughts of meeting Bastian's parents causing it now but excitement at the thought of seeing Bastian all dressed up. Poppy and Sophia would not let me wait downstairs and said I needed to make a grand entrance. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I waited until I was given the signal before I made my way down the stairs. I saw him before he could see me and I felt my breath still in my lungs at the sight of him. He stood next to Mr. Wright dressed in a beautiful black suit that was clearly tailored just for him, and a pale green shirt and silk tie. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, so nothing hindered the beauty of his face. He looked mouthwatering.

Our gazes locked and tenderness looked back at me. He didn't say anything with words but then he didn't need to.

“Have fun tonight,” Dr. Wright said just as Mr. Wright held the door for us. Poppy and Sophia threw me a thumbs-up when Bastian turned toward the door.

How my legs held me up as we walked toward the black Range Rover in the driveway, I didn't know. “Whose ride is this?” I asked when we reached it.

“My brother's.”

“Is he coming tonight? Maybe with a pregnant fiancée that the parents know nothing about?”

Bastian grinned and held the door open for me. “Sorry, beautiful, he's coming, but no such luck with the pregnant fiancée.”

“A girl can dream.” I muttered before I climbed into the spacious interior and relaxed against the black leather seat. A minute later Bastian climbed into the car. As soon as he closed the door, his hand snaked around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his. He whispered against my lips, “Please don't let my parents intimidate you tonight. They're a lot to take—you are who I want, okay?”

“They aren't going to like me, are they?”

He turned more fully in his seat and his hand palmed my cheek. “My parents don't like anyone who doesn't come with her own portfolio. I don't give a shit about what they want, because I know what I want.”

“Okay.”

***

The club. What could I say about the club? I hated it. From the moment we pulled into the gated drive and saw the lush, rolling hills of golf-green; the perfectly tended garden beds planted with gold, rust and burgundy mums in precise symmetry, and the sprawling Greek revival clubhouse with its huge white columns and fancy pediments, I hated it. The parking attendants probably made more money than my uncle.

As we pulled around the circular drive for the valet, I wondered if Bastian's parents ever considered a quiet, family dinner in their own home as opposed to one in so stuffy and conceited a place. My attention shifted to him to see he was clenching his jaw and knew he felt the same way about the club as I did.

“Did they even ask you if you wanted to come here for your dinner or did they decree it?”

His eyes met mine and I saw the answer.

“How would you have liked to spend your birthday?”

“With you.”

“That's a given, but how?”

“I would have liked hanging out with pizza, soda and a cake: a big chocolate cake.”

“You won't even get cake tonight, will you?”

“Not real cake. Maybe some sponge thing drenched in liquor and topped with shit I can't even pronounce.”

I grew up invisible and Bastian grew up inconsequential. I hadn't even met his parents and already I didn't like them.

We parked before Bastian climbed from the car and came around to my side to help me out. He reached for my hand and held it tightly in his as we made our way inside.

His parents were already there and so was his brother. We made our way through the dining area and I took the opportunity to study the people who had given Bastian life.

His father had perfectly cut black hair, laced—almost highlighted, it was so perfect—with gray. His eyes were more gray than blue, but I could see Bastian in his features. From the way he eyed his fellow diners, he was more interested in everyone else in the room than his own family, specifically his son whose birthday he was here to celebrate.