“What the hell?” Lo says. He finds the remote on my lap and mutes the television.
On cue, the door breezes open.
Dressed in an expensive tux, Connor holds open the door while Rose stomps ahead in five-inch winter booties, a black cocktail dress, and white fur coat. “To flirt,” Connor recites, “to behave in a way that shows sexual attraction. You can take my definition or we can consult Merriam-Webster, though mine is more accurate.”
I whisper under my breath to Lo, “I think Rose is still a virgin.”
“Good call.”
“I’m so good at picking up signs,” Rose retorts, still in a verbal battle with Connor. “I know when someone is flirting with me, Richard.”
He shuts the door, hardly upset by whatever happened. He wears only amusement in his deep blue eyes the longer Rose huffs and puffs like a wolf ready to blow down a pig’s house. And then he speaks in fluent French, so effortlessly that the words sound like golden honey off his tongue.
She replies back in angry French.
It sounds violent.
They face each other like they’re dueling. “All they need are some wands,” I whisper to Lo.
“I’ll never understand Ravenclaws,” he tells me. Connor and Rose would belong to the smartest house in the wizarding world. No question. Before the sorting hat even touched their heads, it’d scream Ravenclaw!
“Luna Lovegood is pretty cool, and she’s from Ravenclaw,” I say as Rose arches her back and steps nearer.
Connor laughs at something she said in French, his million-dollar grin too bright to contain.
Lo says, “Only because Luna Lovegood likes the other houses just as much as her own.”
I look between Rose and Connor. Even though they’re so smart, they spend so much time in our realm of being.
They’re my favorite Ravenclaws that ever were.
“Connor doesn’t believe in magic,” Lo reminds me.
“I think Rose could convince him.”
“Maybe.” Lo raises his voice so they can hear him. “Shouldn’t you both be at a hotel right now?” He doesn’t add ha**ng s*x but the idea is silently stated. At least…to me it is.
Rose whips her head to us, just registering our presence. “The party was horrible.”
“The party was boring. There’s a difference,” Connor says easily. He takes note of his surroundings, scanning us on the chair and then Ryke and Daisy on the couch.
Rose spots our little sister just as quickly and walks around the couch to approach, Connor by her side. “What are you two doing here?”
“Both of our parties f**king sucked,” Ryke answers. And I realize how quickly he was able to move a spotlight off of Daisy. Exactly what she would want.
Lo holds up his hands. “I’m confused. Was the party in your hotel room?” Lo asks like he’s the only one thinking logically. “Otherwise, you could have left the party without coming here.” He gives Connor a look like what the f**k happened?
“We’re no longer welcome at that particular hotel…for eternity. Those were the manager’s exact words.” Connor loosens his bowtie. “I don’t blame him for thinking we’re immortal. In some preclassic civilizations, I’d be considered a god.”
Rose’s yellow-green eyes drill holes into him. “Congratulations, you are officially the cockiest human being on planet Earth.” That’d be Iron Man. But I hold my tongue.
“That’s Iron Man,” Lo says. I literally rise like I’m floating. I kiss him on the lips, so suddenly that I think he’s caught off guard too.
Rose holds her hand at him like stay out of it.
Lo doesn’t care. His eyes fix on me with questioning and longing. Like he wants to kiss me again. But I stop. I show him I can.
I don’t want sex.
Just a kiss.
Like back in Cancun. When I was on the road to truly recovering. I’m going to be there again. I can feel it.
Today is a very good day.
His lips rise, saying everything that needs to be said.
He’s proud of me.
I glance back to my older sister. Connor still grins at her and speaks French. Damn. I flip open my cell and try to log into a translator, but he talks too quickly for me to type the words. This is when I wish I had my nicer, newer phone with app capabilities that translates by sound, no manual typing involved.
I consider snatching Lo’s phone, but one of my hands is still in the popcorn bag.
Thankfully, Rose uses English. “The manger was exaggerating.”
“Clearly,” Connor says, “but it doesn’t change the fact that we were kicked out tonight.”
The gears in my brain start spinning. My eyes widen in realization, and I cough on a popcorn kernel. Lo pats my back. He hands me what used to be Ryke’s water. It’s grossly become communal. Survival instinct triggers and I drink it anyway.
Rose. She found a way to dodge Connor’s suite without cheating on him or putting him in an uncomfortable position. She got the hotel to kick them out.
She’s ballsy and slightly nuts. Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell him that she didn’t want to have sex?
“I broke one bottle of champagne in the lobby,” Rose states. “The punishment was hardly warranted.”
“You called the manager an oversized twat,” Connor says with an arched brow. “And what you did was hardly an accident.”
“So?” she retorts defensively.
“If you wanted to go home, darling, all you had to do was say so.”
Ha! I suggested as much to her, didn’t I? I hope I did. I can’t remember that phone conversation that much. Lo’s hands and lips were traveling to dangerous places during it.
“Then you would’ve won,” she says.
He gives her a look. “I already did.”
“But—”
“Sex isn’t a prize to me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you for you to believe it.”
They start speaking in French again, and Lo scoots me closer to his chest, resting his arm around my collar. I pick up the remote and unmute the television, which hangs above the fireplace mantel.
“Thirty seconds,” the host counts down.
I think back to last New Year’s where Lo was in rehab, where I spent most of the night with Daisy, where we sat in Ryke’s car—stuck in traffic—as the clock struck midnight.
“Twenty seconds.”
Now I’m in Loren Hale’s arms.
He’s sober.
I’m in recovery.
I wasn’t sure if we’d ever be at this place. I glance at Daisy who balances her spoon on her nose with a bright smile—the first genuine looking one I’ve seen from her tonight. Ryke stares at her for a long moment before messing her hair with his hand. The spoon falls to her lap.
Connor and Rose stand only inches apart by the coffee table, his hands on her hips. Her chest rises and falls faster than his, but his gaze is glued to Rose, entrapped, like she’s beyond gorgeous—like he could take her right there without hesitation.
I turn back to Lo and rest my knees on either side of his waist, straddling him.
“Ten seconds,” the host declares.
“I missed you last year,” Lo murmurs, his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin.
I kiss his sharp jaw, and before I pull away, he kisses the outside of my lips, nerves singing at the touch. Yes.
“Remember how when we were little?” I whisper. “You’d chase me around before midnight.”