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“Piss,” I interrupt, before dragging my eyes to the dance floor again.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, pushing it my way.
“I’ll like it?” I raise one of my eyebrows.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding his head. He lounges back before staring at the dance floor as well. Prescott is the quiet one of the group. He’s not as intense as Sebastian or as loud as Ada.
Prescott has a way of making people comfortable. I always want to share my darkest secrets with him because he’ll listen. He’ll understand and try to figure a way out of it with a calm and invested tone.
“The rest coming?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Sebastian texted that Moreen isn’t doing well.” Sometimes I want to be a fly on the wall to see what a normal day in the life of a Callahan and Van Doren looks like. They spend most of the time together, and the fact that they haven’t murdered each other shows that their dynamic must be different during the day.
“Ada is off to South Korea for some weird art exhibit,” I say, sipping from the piss whisky, while eyeing the highly-skilled waiters holding a tray above their heads while manoeuvring through the dancing crowd.
“What about Jocelyn?” Prescott asks in the same tone as the rest of his questions, but I still pick up on the interest that wasn’t there previously.
Jocelyn is another one of Prescott’s passion projects; he wants to understand the enigma that is Jocelyn Hansley. She’s a vault of secrets, and after all these years, I still don’t know what goes on in her head or what ticks her off. Introverted to the core, but it’s people like Prescott who will do anything to make her smile, to make her feel at ease when we’re out partying. Jocelyn isn’t a fan of big crowds.
“No. Work.”
“Of course.” I divert my attention to my friend, and he turns his head as well. I raise both my eyebrows because I know what Prescott wants more than a rare whisky. I can’t stop that sly, knowing smile.
“Fuck off,” he says loudly, dismissing me with one of his heavily-tattooed hands. I laugh before I, once again, feel the heaviness of the day leaning on my shoulders. Why the hell does Evangeline’s arranged marriage bother me so much?
Because it reminds me of my parents. It reminds me of my friends’ marriage. It reminds me of Thomas Meyer, who will for sure ruin the beautiful, sassy Evangeline. But most of all, it’s Evangeline that keeps the conversation going in my head.
As much as I hate her brother, as much as I vowed to hate all Clairwaters, I can’t help but feel bad for the young woman who gave me a run for my money. No one deserves their choices ripped away from them, not even Frederic’s sister.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing here on a Tuesday at 10?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” I say, lounging back, while a pair of bright brown eyes filled with tears stare my way. Her life was ruined by a single sentence. And damn that I was the bearer of said bad news. I almost want to hit myself on the head for interfering. For the need to understand why she would agree to marry Thomas that it brought me to her doorstep, only to figure out she didn’t know. I saw that brightness leave her eyes with the snap of my fingers.
I feel guilty, and the more I try to divert my attention from Evangeline, the more I want to know about the things going on in her life.
“Why don’t you try.” It doesn’t take long for me to share what has been on my mind.
“Evangeline Clairwater is engaged.” A loud cough comes from Prescott, who’s leaning forward, trying to catch his breath.
“Evangeline Clairwater? The woman you chased away almost two weeks ago?”
“Exactly.”
“Evangeline Clairwater is the reason why you look like an old dude wondering where the time went?” It sounds nuts. I haven’t been that positive about my new neighbour. I’m not even sure I like her.No, I don’t like her, but I also don’t like the revelation that was pushed into my hands today.
“Well, that’s a change of events,” Prescott comments, still surprised. “I didn’t know she was in a serious relationship.”
“It’s not what you think,” I say before emptying my glass. “It’s arranged. She probably doesn’t even know her fiancé.”
“Now it makes sense. Marriages are already a trigger for you. Imagine someone adding the word ‘arranged’ before it.” Bingo, but it’s even worse.
“Frederic is the one behind it. Evangeline didn’t agree to anything,” I snarl, feeling another surge of that pulsing anger. Of that urge to storm out of here and finally hit Frederic on that god-awful nose of his.
“You know this how?”
“She started to cry when I congratulated her on her engagement today.”
“Beautifully done, Chester. Really.” Prescott claps his hands a few times while nodding his head. Yeah, it’s becoming a curse of mine to turn Evangeline’s day sour. My eyes drop to my watch ticking away. I can’t wait for this day to be over.
