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She starts, mouth forming a frown as she tries to connect the dots. “What do you mean?”
It brings me no pleasure to recall the devastation of that letter. “They declined my admission.”
The color in her cheeks drains to pale white. “You expect me to believe that Mr. Too Smart For His Own Good was denied admission to Stanford?”
“Trust me, I was just as shocked as you are.” I crack a fragile half-smile.
“Huh,” Koa muses apathetically. “Well, me and Pen have been friends since we were kids.”
“Fantastic.”
“And we’ve had plenty of good times, haven’t we?” he asks.
Strobe lights strike her face, illuminating her unease. We hold each other’s stares for an uncomfortable minute before I look back at Koa. “Are you implying the two of you fucked at some point?”
“Logan,” Pen hisses, but it’s the guilt in her shifty gaze that gives me my answer.
I don’t like it—not one fucking bit—but I get it. Twelve years is a long time to be alone, and while I’m not upset with Penelope for seeking pleasure, her standards could use some work.
Inching closer to her, he drones, “That was one hell of a T’slasta, wasn’t it?”
The question is meant for her, but it’s a blatant brag directed at me, and it hits the mark, hard.
My blood runs cold, ravaging my insides with shards of ice that slice to the bone. The warmth of that night with her—wrapped inside the spell of Augustine’s fire festival while we cherished each other’s bodies for the first time—now smacks of betrayal.
And the shame blanketing her face infuriates me. Because I don’t want Penelope to be ashamed for desiring companionship. What I want is for none of this to have ever fucking happened.
Where would we be if we hadn’t lost those years together? How many times has she turned to another man, seeking that comfort when it should’ve been me?
Koa waves at their friends, still poolside, laughing and cutting up. Except for Carrie, who’s missing from the group.
“I’m, um… going to go find my sister,” Pen says, erecting a void between us. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “Go ahead.”
“Nice meeting you, Logan.” Koa winks before letting his hand fall to the small of her back.
Stop touching her. Stop fucking touching her.
My heart pounds furiously as the two of them move toward the outskirts of the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd and leaving me with a chill creeping up my spine.
Penelope casts one last wary glance at me, and then she’s gone.
My eyes cling to the spot where they vanished, wanting to tear my heart out for how badly I ache for her. I’d rid myself of the organ altogether if the damn thing was in my possession.
“Christ,” Declan huffs, setting two bottles down on the table and bracing his elbows beside me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
His long hair is a mess and his shirt is unbuttoned, showcasing fresh scratch marks and a slight sheen of sweat that reflects the neon lights above.
I tip the ice-cold beer to my lips, sucking down the much-needed relief. “It went well, I see.”
“That woman worshiped my cock like a devout Catholic.” He motions a Hail Mary before taking a swig of his drink. “Consider me converted.”
He grins when I roll my eyes. “Why the long face? Pen didn’t feel like dancing with a broody asshole and chose Korona instead?”
I don’t bother correcting him. “There’s something off about that guy.”
“So do something about it, then.”
