Page 5 of With You

“Whatever. What did Evie get? I don’t want to waste the journey over there,” Damien asks, as if the journey isn’t a mere twenty feet to the couch they’re relaxing on.

“Cookies and cream.”

“God, she has terrible taste.” He scowls. “What about the others?”

“Zena got cookie dough, and Amelie got strawberry.”

Of course she got my favourite flavour, and now it’s ruined for me.

Amelie Devereaux has been a thorn in my side for as long as I’ve known her. She thinks the world of herself, and as much as I can admit she’s an extremely talented ballerina, my compliments toward her stop there. She’s one of the most stuck-up people I’ve ever met, which is quite a task when you’re constantly surrounded by rich kids who think the world owes them everything.

When I first started learning ballet, I thought we might become friends, considering we were both the best dancers in our class. However, I soon realised Amelie had no interest in speaking to anyone, and I wasn’t going to go out of my way to befriend someone who clearly was happy alone. We’ve never been able to avoid each other since then, though.

From attending the same dance school to now being at d’Étoiles together, she’s inescapable. It’s only made worse by the fact that her best friend is betrothed to my best friend, so there’s no way to avoid her. The knowledge that once we graduate we’ll rarely have to see each other apart from formal occasions is the only thing that brings me some peace.

“Perfect, at least someone has taste,” Damien says, leaning back on the couch before he pushes himself off it to stand. Grayson promptly drags him back down.

“Back to the topic at hand,” he interrupts, still tapping on his phone. “I need to buy a new suit then. If this dinner’s so important, I can’t make a bad impression.”

“Not a single person will be paying attention to what you’re wearing,” Damien tells him. They most definitely will, but it’s easier to lie to him.

“I’ll use any excuse to go shopping.” Grayson shrugs. “Care to join me?”

“I’ll come with you,” I tell him.

First semester has only started, and now that we’re already in our second year, I need to focus more on my studies. But strolling around the streets of Paris is a lot more fun than any of that. As if my father can hear my wayward thoughts, my phone buzzes with a text from him, asking to meet this weekend as he’ll be in the city. I fire off a quick reply, knowing that he’ll want to check on how the start of the semester is progressing.

“Well, if you’re going, I suppose I will, too,” Damien adds, changing his tune from just a few moments ago. “Layth?”

“I’ll have to see what Zena is doing first.”

We all let out a groan. While we get that his relationship with her is tied in ways we’ll never understand, I don’t know how he can live with constantly having to adapt his plans to fit hers.

“I’ll go ask them,” Damien says, standing up again. “I know Evie won’t turn down a shopping trip, especially when it’s on my card.”

He says the last part as if he’s ever let her pay for anything in their lives when they go out together. As much as my family values connections, I’m glad they never resorted to forcing me into an arranged marriage just to strengthen business relations.

Damien and Evie never complain about it, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to grow up knowing you have no choice in who you’ll marry. I’ve never given it much thought myself, but there’s still a freedom in knowing that if I ever did want to get married to someone, it would be my own decision.

The three of us watch as Damien walks toward the girls, all of them smiling as he approaches. The hum of the dozens of people in the room speaking makes it impossible to hear what they’re saying, but then Amelie lifts her spoon up, feeding Damien some of her ice cream. The gesture inexplicably and involuntarily makes my face contort into what must be a concerning expression, as it leads to Grayson offering to buy me my own tub of strawberry ice cream.

Damien tips his head at the girls before coming back at us, and I have an overwhelming urge to ask him why on earth he was getting fed by a demon, but I restrain myself.

“They’re all down for it.”

All meaning she’ll be joining, too. I suppress my frustration that this trip turned from a boys’ outing into the whole group being involved.

“Great, we can go after classes finish tomorrow,” Grayson says, finally putting his phone away. I have no idea what he’s always doing on there.

“I’m going to bed,” I tell the group, pushing off the couch to stand.

I know it’s irrational to feel so much irritation at a girl I dislike feeding ice cream to my best friend, but everything she does gets under my skin in ways I can’t explain.

I walk through the common room, right past where the three girls are sitting. As impolite as it is, I don’t spare a glance in their direction as I leave and head to my room. I go straight for my bathroom so I can shower and hopefully wash away this strange feeling that overcomes me whenever I’m anywhere near Amelie Devereaux.

Chapter 3

Amelie