I cross my arms against my chest, raising an eyebrow at him.
“What are you doing, you perv?” I ask, nodding to my apartment door, which is basically shaking at this point. I swear, they are absolute animals.
“What?” he gasps, blinking at me. Then the realisation dawns on him as he sighs. “Oh. ‘Cause they’re…Yeah. It’s worse at my house. Try sharing a wall with Miles’ room and you learn to tune them out.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask again.
“Waiting for you, obviously,” he says and my chest pinches. I hate feeling so nervous around him. He has no reason to make me feel like he can see just straight through me. Like every thought in my brain is just on display for him to have a pick at.
“Why?”
He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the project…Why else would I be here?”
I tilt my head. “Oh, so you’re not here to listen to our friends have sex? I totally misread the situation,” I say in a mocking tone, loving the way his eyebrows pinch together.
He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “Miles is hardly my friend,” is his pathetic excuse.
I snort because I can imagine the argument they would get into if Miles could hear him right now.
Miles Davis is friends with everybody. He’s been living with Evan for almost three years, I’m sure he would be insulted if he heard this blasphemy.
“I saw the pictures he posted from Wren’s birthday. And in case you’re forgetting, I was there too. So, the memory is forever etched into my brain.” Then, making my voice sound extra sweet, I add, “The matching outfits were cute.”
It was Wren’s 20th birthday in June, and we all had to come in matching outfits. Wren, Kennedy, and I came as the Chippettes while Evan, Miles and Grey went as Alvin and the Chipmunks. I almost peed myself laughing at Evan in a blue shirt, glasses and freckles scattered across his nose.
“It was Miles’s idea, not mine,” he mumbles.
“And yet, you let him,” I retort. He’s got to drop this grump act. His roommates can be annoying, but I know he loves them deep down. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to say now the small talk has died down.
When I look up, his eyes are still on me, and I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth. It’s either this or interrupting my best friend doingitwith her boyfriend.
“Wanna help me with this mystery?”
His eyes practically light up. Well, I think so. I’m still undecided if his eyes are blue or green. Still, his features smooth out a little as his eyes widen. “You got a lead?”
I shrug. “Sort of. Let’s go.”
9
Evan
When I turned up outside of Scarlett’s apartment, I wasn’t going there to work on the project. I actually don’t know why I was there.
I asked Charles to take me for a ride around the city to clear my head and it was either going there or going to my dad’s house. As soon as I remembered that Miles was there, I realised that I’d be better off waiting outside. Still, I don’t know why I was shocked that she turned up as if she doesn’t live there. I definitely wasn’t expecting her to have a lead.
Well, from what she explained and her uncle Gio’s explanation, it could be nothing. They think that something is going on with the imports of diamonds from a local dealer which is not what they have been doing for years.
Just finding out that alone is more than I need to know. It feels dirty knowing these things as a Branson. We never trade secrets like these, but I can tell that she needs help in some way and I’m going to give it to her. I knew I hit a nerve asking her about it during our study session, but it seems to have broken down a piece of a wallthat she’s had up for years.
Obviously, because she’s a Voss, she has the coolest fucking car. I’m a guy. I can admit when a car looks good, even if the person driving it drives me insane.
She has a black Lamborghini Urus with red stitched seats.Red,I thought,like her name.It’s beautiful. It has been on my car wishlist for a few years, but I didn’t want to invest in one since I don’t drive as often as I should, and my Range Rover is collecting dust in the garage.
I know I wanted to admire it, but since she explained the situation on the elevator ride down and since we got into the car, she’s not said a word. She’s been staring out at the parking lot and I’m pretty sure she’s spaced out.
“Are you going to drive or what?” I press, looking at her and then the empty parking lot.
“I don’t know yet,” she whispers.
