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Yeah, that was why you wanted to invite her.
It was, and I’d tell myself that to the fucking grave. I couldn’t get out of my head what I’d told Wells that day he’d been an asshole to her. I was pretty much clean these days outside of the occasional joint and hadn’t had the urge to party or use until recently. Being with Aspen kept me busy, focused. My head wasn’t fucking clouded anymore with trauma and shit, drama.
I actually wanted to be in my head.
I ended up tossing the extra invitation away and going to the charity event alone. My friends would be there, and that was a big reason why I decided to opt for that option. All this shit started because of opinions that had to do with Aspen and me, and I wouldn’t subject her to any more shit.
It wasn’t fair.
The whistle noise came when I left my bedroom that night of the event, and I flipped all my friends the bird when I came into our living room. All of them were in various dress from the Regency era. That was the theme of the event, but apparently, I was the only one who’d gone all out and worn fucking tights.
The comments immediately started about how nice my legs were, and I hadn’t gotten the memo that tights were optional. I refused to wear a fucking powdered wig, though, and wouldn’t take my earrings out. I flipped my friends off again. “Fuck you guys. You ready?”
They all looked to be and the girls (my sister, Sloane, and Fawn) had really gone out with their ballgowns. They had fans too and had kind of coordinated together.
“We’re just giving you a hard time,” Dorian said, his hand in Sloane’s. They both wore gloves. Dorian grinned. “But still, nice legs, buddy.”
I growled. Especially when he slapped my chest. I appreciated them supporting the charity. Tickets for this thing were 5K a head and included dinner.
Wolf ruffled my hair, and I really almost lost my shit since I’d spent so much time on it. I nudged him and would have landed a footprint on his ass but he was too fast. He’d skipped out in his Regency garb, his long hair tied back. He was the only one outside of me who wore his natural hair. Probably because it was fucking awesome. The guy could do shampoo ads. Sloane and D looked pretty badass, though, in their powdered wigs. They did the whole king-and-queen thing in their intricate outfits, and everyone wore masks since it was a masked event.
Ironically enough, the only one who hadn’t given me a jab was Wells, but that was probably because we weren’t really talking these days. He nodded at me from behind a black mask on his way out. I got his arm. “Thanks for coming.”
I appreciated it, and all this was for a good cause. It helped literacy in local schools.
“You know I’d always be there,” he said, tapping my fist. I still wasn’t happy with him, but all us guys always burned hot fast but cooled just as quickly. For the moment, Wells and I had put our beef on the back burner, and we all went to the event together. Bru planned to show up a little later since he had a night class, and my sister stayed close to the girls since she didn’t have a date.
My sister wasn’t dating yet, which was completely fine with me. I didn’t feel like beating any dudes down who weren’t good enough for her, and her single status also made it easy to keep an eye on her after we all arrived to the chateau that night.
My frat had gone all out.
The rented castle was in Winchester, a town over, and there were even fireworks upon arrival. It was kind of a trip but was on par with my frat’s previous charity events. One year, we’d done The Great Gatsby, which was pretty badass.
“Everything looking good?” I asked one of my frat brothers. I’d lost my friends sometime between the fireworks and the circus performers at the door. There were actual fire breathers and shit here, and the alcohol was pouring. People were dancing in both Regency style and modern depending on what room they were in. The main ballroom was reserved for Regency, but anywhere else people could do whatever. We had a DJ outside of the ballroom, but live performers were under the main ballroom’s chandelier. A string quartet with piano accompaniment played modern classical tunes, and people looked like they were having a good time.
I think my frat brother told me everything was okay, and normally, I would have listened. I cared that things looked good at our event. Especially since I had an active role in the planning, but a girl over by the punch bowl took my attention.
I wished it was just because of the dress.
A lot of people stood out in this fucking place. People were trying to go all out with the wigs, masks, dresses, and shit. There was glitter everywhere, and there was color, but I’d never seen someone encompass the Regency era more than literally the girl who just had a small fan and a white dress on. Perhaps, it was because her outfit was subtle compared to everyone else that she stood out.
She just couldn’t help herself.
I strode over to Aspen, her gaze scanning the crowd of people dancing in ballgowns to an old Motown song played in a classical style. Her hair was up and pinned intricately, her brown skin flushed and heated under the bright glow of the chandelier. She had a mask in her hand too, but it was on a stick, and her lips parted as I arrived at her side. She wore neutral tones with her makeup tonight, and her lips had never appeared more kissable.
“Fancy seeing you here tonight.” I could do better with my line, but honest to fuck, I was just trying not to look at her in a way that was the opposite of friendly. The white dress made her look virginal, innocent, even as it pushed up her flushed tits and made them a gorgeous swell above her dress.
And what that shit did to me.
I’d been dying since we’d started hanging out and did everything I could to ignore the fact she was a woman (who I’d fucked). I actively had to ignore our history on the regular every day, and that wasn’t easy. Sometimes she wore these jeans that would just…
Again, it wasn’t easy, and though there were none of her jeans in sight, my second-favorite things… her beautiful full tits were on full display. The fact that I wanted to hug my cock between them because she appeared virginal was fucked, but it was what it was. Aspen Davis was a hell of a drug.
But once more, I had to pretend we were just buds and was hard-pressed when her gaze circulated over me. She tried to be passive about it. That she didn’t notice the tight fit of my long jacket across my shoulders, or the fact I wore my cross below the ruffle of my white shirt.
Yeah, that’s our cross, snow.
It was the one she’d played with while I fucked her, and that rosy tint bloomed in her brown cheeks before her lashes flittered away. She smiled a little. “Nice tights.”
