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“Shit,” I mutter, my hands shaking as I put my phone away. I have no idea what caused the fire, and the uncertainty is worrying, especially if I’m under suspicion. I wonder if Raj has called Lila. I try her number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
If he suspects us, if he thinks we’re responsible, what then? What does that mean for us? Anxiety claws at my insides, relentless and sharp as thorns.
Shit. This isn’t good. Not good at all. I lean against the wall of the restaurant, trying to steady myself.Raj’s voice still echoes in my head, his scepticism, the way he drew out his words like he was weighing them, judging us.
Did I say too much? Or not enough? Did I sound guilty? Hell, did one of us actually do something to start that fire without knowing?
I rub my face with my hands, trying to erase the worry etched into my mind. But it clings to me, heavy and unrelenting. If Raj thinks we’re to blame, that could screw us over big time. Insurance might not pay out, and then there’s the possibility of legal shit hitting the fan.
Fuck! Why can’t one thing go right?
I kick at a stray pebble, sending it skittering down the pavement. It’s not just about the money. It’s the uncertainty, the feeling of teetering on a cliff edge, waiting for a gust of wind to push me over.
The weight in my chest doesn’t lift as I make my way back to KnightsGate Manor. There’s other things to deal with right now. I’m probably overthinking the Raj thing. Of course he was short. He’s worried about his house and the insurance. But it just feels like another battle. I’m exhausted, and I’m running out of armour. First things first. I need to make this study date with the guys. I pick my pace, pushing Raj’s inquiry to the back of my mind to join the other stuff, something I seem to be doing a lot of lately.
32
EVER
Rushing in from work, I smell like fried food and panic. Heading up the stairs, stripping off my uniform as I go, I leap into the shower and quickly clean up before getting dressed in casual black leggings and a long black tee to meet the guys in the living room.
I’ve set up a date with them for two reasons. The first being I need fucking help with this speech. Or rather, how to stand in front of hundreds of people and speak without throwing up. The second is more complicated. In the last couple of days, I’ve kissed Ben and pushed him away, kissed Damien and pulled him closer, but then he left me alone in the middle of the night and hasn’t spoken a word to me since, the incident with Alistair has left me shaken but full of a raw desire that is clawing at my insides and screaming at me to let him take my virginity so I can see if he is as good with his cock as he is his mouth,and Charlie. Sweet Charlie, who hasn’t made a move but who I connect with on a deep level that makes me want him to.
What does all of this mean? I’m not the girl who dates multiple guys. I’m not even the girl who dates one guy. I couldn’t get up the guts to move in on Alex, and no one seems interested in being with me unless it’s for a bet.
Except these men.
Why?
All these questions are plaguing my already overactive brain, and I need answers of some kind.
As I rush into the living room, Ben is already there.
“Hey, Ever.” He glances up from his laptop, eyes green and unreadable as the depths of the sea. I nod, trying to shake the memory of his lips on mine and how I wish I hadn’t been scared and leaned into it a bit more. But what happened at the party has left a mark on me, despite me throwing myself out there with two out of the four guys I currently live with.
Trust?
Lust?
Insanity?
“Ready to start?” Damien’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts.
“Sure.”
“Charlie will join us shortly,” Ben says, and there’s something comforting about his presence, like the firm ground beneath your feet after a dizzying ride.
“Great,” I mumble, forcing a smile and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I avoid looking at Damien. If I do, I’ll drown in those grey eyes, lose myself in the questions I have.
We wait in silence, the kind that buzzes with things unsaid. It seems so awkward that none of them have touched me since our respective kisses. It leaves me feeling off-balance, like walking on a tightrope above an abyss.
I’m confused and trying to piece together what it all means.
Alistair strides in, his arms laden with books. He doesn’t say a word; he just gives me that look. The one that screams volumes without making a sound. It’s a promise, a dark whisper telling me he plans on claiming what I’ve never given.
Again, I wonder what it would be like and if I want him to be the one. He opened up to me last night, which is something I don’t think he has ever done, judging by the way he was so awkward at it.
“Ever,” he says, voice smooth as silk yet heavy with something else—intent, maybe? The way he says my name feels like a caress, one I shouldn’t want but can’t help responding to.
