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My inheritance was blown through quickly, leading to my twice-weekly shifts at Rogue.
Hardly the stuff of dreams, but we do what we have to in order to make a life for ourselves. Period.
So finding peace in my hectic life is something I cherish. Except, solitude often leads to wandering thoughts.
Thoughts that always veer in the inevitable direction ofthat dayand what we could have done differently. How one choice can affect your whole life.
* * *
Archer’s smirk makes me narrow my eyes as I step back from Layla.
“You’re a good kisser, Summer. Where’d you learn that thing you did with your tongue?”
I can feel my cheeks flush under their joint stare. My eyes find Caden’s, except he’s no help. He just winks inanely.
My brows draw together, and I tilt my head to the side as I take him in properly. He doesn’t look all too good.
Flipping the three of them the bird, I settle back to my seat atop my now-dirty pink dress to toy nervously with the locket resting on my chest.
“Layla. Truth or dare?”
“Truth, bitch.” She blows me a kiss, making my cheeks pinken even further as both she and Archer laugh uproariously. Caden blinks several times before reacting with a loud laugh that doesn’t sound like his own.
His eyes meet mine. I notice they’re glassy—his pupils blown so wide I can’t see any blue—before his gaze shifts to the rainbow of wildflowers beneath us.
“Have you ever slept with Caden?”
“Obviously. A couple of times now.”
Layla’s face is devoid of untruth, her eyes blinking owlishly—innocently—as she glances around our group. Archer shrugs and nods knowingly while Caden stares at the ground.
He swore he was a virgin the night of my birthday.
Meaning he’s been with her—in the biblical sense—since we slept together.
My stomach churns nauseatingly at the cold, hard fact, growing even worse when Layla speaks. “You know the boys share, babes. It’s just how they are, no harm, no foul. Okay?”
I swallow once, then twice, before dragging my eyes upwards to meet hers and eventually Archer’s.
Nodding in assent, I stare at the empty vodka bottle lying atop a sea of coloured flowers, willing everyone and everything to fade into the background so that I may feel how I need to feel without the eyes of anyone else upon me.
“Caden Albus—”
Archer snorts. “It’s not Albus, Lay.”
“Whatever! It’s a stupid middle name.” She flips Archer the bird and tries again.
“CadenAtticusNorth.”
Archer shakes his head, keeping his laughter silent as I sit there in my reverie, only half paying attention.
Layla’s voice makes Caden’s head shoot up from where he’s been intensely examining the wildflowers beneath him. “Yes?”
“Truth or dare, Mr Hotshot?”
Caden’s singular-word answer sounds slurred, and his eyes won’t focus when he eventually meets my accusatory gaze.
“Dare.”
