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He raises a quizzical brow in my direction but doesn’t actually word the question his face asks.
“You don’t need to act like this is more to him than what it is – a hookup.” I clarify, “I know he’s not into long term stuff, I even know you guys like to, um, sleep with the same girl at the same time, so really, you don’t have to do the faux protectiveness bit.”
He doesn’t immediately say anything, just looks at me intently with his trademark calculating stare, almost as if he’s trying to use his eyes to surgically pick me apart and see what’s underneath the exterior.
It’s during that brief moment where we’re standing there assessing each other that a drunken girl trips over her heels and falls into me, her entire glass of wine flying in my direction.
I watch the wine as if in slow mo as it arcs through the air and splashes almost comically on my white crop top. I look down wordlessly at my top, shock rendering me silent as I take in the now purple, sticky fabric.
“I’ve had about enough of tonight.” I mutter unhappily under my breath.
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29
Thayer
“I’m so sorry!” The girl cries out apologetically, clumsily trying to dab at the stain.
“You’re totally fine,” I tell her honestly, “It happens.” I say, waving her off with the soaking paper towel in my hand.
“Here, follow me.” Phoenix says, walking off without waiting to see if I do.
I do, half jogging to catch up with him as he goes up the stairs and takes me to a large bathroom.
“You can clean up in here. I’ll wait outside.”
“Thanks.” I tell him, closing the door behind me.
I take my top off and try scrubbing off the stain, but it won’t go away. In fact, I’m making it worse. The stain is spreading and the water is turning the top itself see through, there’s no way I can put this back on.
Fantastic.
It’s taking everything in me to keep the 1.9% of my temper that23andmetold me was Greek under control so I don’t run out of this bathroom and throw the first piece of fine china I find in this house on the floor.
Instead, I focus on problem solving.
I crack the door open a bit, carefully trying to not let Phoenix see me, but I have nothing to worry about.
He’s standing with his back firmly to the door, blocking the view of any people on the second floor.
“I need your sweater.”
He turns his head towards me, but keeps his eyes averted as he speaks.
“Right, I think we need to make a couple of things clear here.”
“Um, now?” I say, keeping my body hidden behind the door.
He continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Yes, Rhys and I have fucked the same girl in the past.No, that won’t happen with you. I have zero interest in fucking you and Rhys has even less interest in ever sharing you. He wouldactuallykill Devlin for calling you ‘love’.” He emphasizes the words to make sure I understand. “I wasn’t just doing a ‘faux protectiveness bit’ as I believe you called it. Keep those things in mind and think really hard about whether you actually need my sweater. Because that same fate awaits me if he catches you wearing any of my clothes.”
That’s by far the most sentences I’ve ever heard Phoenix say at once and I’m momentarily taken aback by it.
“Look,” I hiss, “My white top is completely see through and the only thing I have on under it are nipple pasties, and not expensive ones either. The cheap kind that barely stay on. So either I walk out of here with no shirt and my tits out or you give me your sweater and no one sees anything. Which do you think he’ll prefer?”
“He’ll hate both, but at least I’ll survive one of the two.” He grits out through clenched teeth, hesitating on the decision.
“Okay,” I say, changing tactics, “If Sixtine was in my shoes, what would you prefer happen here?”
