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He releases my waist and pulls one of my blue ribbons, forcing me to face him. I don’t even want to think about what my face looks like right now. I just want to run away and hide from the intense emotions I just experienced.
Landon, however, doesn’t seem to have the same plan. He licks the corner of my eye where involuntary moisture escaped and grins. “Now, you’ll shatter on my fingers all over again while looking at me.”
The bitter taste of panic fills my throat. What the hell did I just let him do?
Wait. Did I even allow him to?
You didn’t say no, idiot. You didn’t even push him away.
So I do. With all the strength I have, I punch him in the chest so hard, the chair squeaks beneath him. After I untangle myself from his hold, I do the one thing I should’ve done when I first saw Landon today.
I run.
His laughter echoes behind me like a dark, sinister promise.
11
LANDON
“Are you kicking me out of my own house?” Remi exclaims like the drama king he is.
Rumor has it he got dropped on his head as an infant and never recovered the lost neurons.
He’s chaotic, and not in the good, anarchy-filled sense. But more like a caricature with nothing inside his skull but the need to shag and serve as the group’s comedic relief.
He’s a good support in certain situations, but this one definitely doesn’t belong on the list.
He, Bran, and I are in the living room where they’re waiting forMatch of the Dayand a much-anticipated premier league game.
My brother occupies the sofa, wearing Chelsea colors and a matching bandana. Our family members are traditional gunners, and my father used to play for Arsenal a long time ago, but Bran chose to root for a rival club. Out of all the important things he could choose to rebel on, he ended up with such a lousy one. And Dad actually chooses to be slightly offended, as if this whole thing means a fuck. Pretty sure King Enterprises owns shares in both clubs.
“You can’t do that!” Remi jumps from his chair and points a finger at me, despite the fact that I dropped the subject ever so peacefully.
“What’s with all the parties you keep throwing in the mansion?” Bran asks as if he’s my designated keeper. I happen to be fifteen whole minutes older than him and should assume that role if it were to exist, thank you very much.
“This is complete rubbish!” Remi throws his head back dramatically. “Back me up on this, Bran! We have to stop this overlord from occupying our space all the time.”
Bran, who’s definitely not as obnoxious as Remi, merely nods. Unfortunately for my childhood friend, he’s missing his other ally.
A certain vexing presence who everyone else calls Eli. He’s not around today, probably having fucked off to make other people’s lives miserable.
Which is why I chose this perfect time to hold this type of meeting. If he were here, the state of affairs would be bumpy and unnecessarily draining.
“Give me a better reaction than that, Bran!” Remi calls out with his hurt, over-the-top voice that’s begging for a few snips to his vocal cords.
Seems that tonight, they don’t really have plans except for being a pain in the arse.
“Whether you agree or not,” I say. “If I decide to throw a party, I’ll just do it, so you better go ahead and cut your losses. You guys are invited if you’d like to join the mayhem.”
“No, thanks.” Remi gives me a look of disgust. “I become invisible to the ladies whenever you’re around.”
“Don’t be jealous of my charm, Rems.” I walk up to him and catch him by the shoulder. “To make it up to you, I can put you in a Jacuzzi with a flavor of your type.”
He lifts a brow. “How many?”
“How many do you want?”
“Three.”
