“Hard,” she banters with a mischievous smile. “It’ll probably leave a mark.”
“That’s usually what happens when your ass meets something hard, sweetheart.”
Okay, this is sexual. I know for a fact because Julian looks ticked, glowering at the back of Ryke’s head. Daisy picks herself off the ground, and Julian suddenly kisses her out of nowhere, one roaming hand gripping her butt.
Uh. This is why I don’t like him.
Ryke and my boyfriend see their spontaneous make out session, and they both end up glowering, mildly disgusted and definitely infuriated.
Everyone met Julian in the Alps, and things did not pan out so nicely. Lo doesn’t like him. Ryke doesn’t like him. Even Connor, who can find a morsel of decency in anyone, claimed that Julian was nothing short of an ape.
“You gave a speech to the guys, right?” I ask Rose. She places a teal ball back on the rack and heaves a bright pink one into her hands, cringing at having to touch it.
“Yes,” she says, “I told them if they’re rude to Daisy’s boyfriend that we’d have serious problems.” She lets out a harsh breath. “And then Connor had the audacity to tell me that the same rule applies to me.”
I don’t mention that I agree with him.
Rose has bitched Julian out far more than Lo or Ryke. But my little sister wants everyone to get along, and production wants her boyfriend in the show for more drama, so we’re all going to put on a happy face.
For her.
And so we can have one sane day.
28
0 years : 08 months
April
LOREN HALE
I struggle with the frayed shoe string, forcing me to take an extra minute to tie them. Ryke sits beside me, his dark scowl plastered to Julian, who continues to stick his tongue down Daisy’s throat only ten feet behind us.
“I can’t be nice to him,” Ryke says, finally removing his gaze off them. “I’m not f**king created that way.”
“By using the word ‘created’ you imply that someone else made you into a barbarian,” Connor replies, almost absentmindedly as he types our names into the computer. I smile, amused by him but my brother doesn’t take the same route.
Ryke shakes his head. “I sincerely thought your personality was the product of jerking off one too many times this past year.” He touches his chest. “For f**k’s sake, I’d be a dick if I didn’t get laid for twelve months. But obviously, being a prick is just programmed into you.”
“You’re still not understanding,” Connor says casually, “being a prick is a choice. The same way you being rude to Julian is a choice. It’s not that hard to take responsibility for your actions.”
Ryke groans. “Just f**king shut up.”
“Hey,” I cut in and nod to Connor’s computer screen. “You know we’re bowling, right? We’re not signing up for Model UN. You’re supposed to make nicknames.”
Connor stares at the screen like I told him that he answered a quiz question wrong.
Ryke almost laughs. “Cobalt, is this your first time bowling?”
“In a public bowling alley, yes.” He begins to delete all of our names. “All the bowling I’ve done has been at someone’s house.”
Ryke’s grin transforms into a glare. “Fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath. Connor just smiles wider like he’s enjoying being called one.
When I finally finish tying my shoes, I sit up and my elbow knocks into Brett’s camera. “Can you give me some room?” I snap, on edge.
Connor and Ryke exchange a long look. Yeah, I get it. I haven’t been too kind to production this past week. On the ride here, Brett wanted the passenger seat so he could film me driving, and I told him that he either rides in the back or I’d throw him out of the car halfway down the road.
All the nice sentiments I had towards the camera crew died on the plane ride home three days ago. Scott played nasty in the Alps. He f**ked with Lily again, handing her a Magic Mike DVD like it was an innocent gesture, but his actions had a clear motive. It was the same as him shoving Maker’s Mark into my chest.
And then later, Lily and I caught Ben leaving actual p**n in our room.
We didn’t tell anyone. Lily threw the magazines in the trash on her own accord, overcoming a huge hurdle. And although Scott tried to make her relapse, we both considered the trip a success. We skied down the slopes. We laughed. We felt normal, even under the hot gaze of the camera lens.
I try not to let my frustration and anger towards Scott surface. Not when he’s back at the townhouse, editing footage from the trip. Which is fine by me. The less I see his goddamn face, the less I feel like ripping it off.
“Enough,” Rose snaps, physically pushing her way between Daisy and Julian, separating them. “I’m not rushing my sister off to the hospital for oxygen deprivation, thank you.”
Daisy tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, shifting out of Julian’s arms, embarrassed. She claps her hands, acting more lighthearted than I think she truly is in this moment. “So who’s going first?” She plops down on an empty chair.
“Why don’t we let Julian go first?” I say with a half-smile. Just saying his full name out loud makes me grimace. He shouldn’t be allowed to share it with my favorite X-Men: Julian Keller. It’s f**king sacrilege.
“Works for me,” Julian says, standing next to Daisy’s chair. He motions for her to stand up so he can take the seat.
I’m pissed, but Ryke’s narrowed eyes flash hot, unquestionably murderous.
In France, Julian blatantly admitted to us that he was only with Daisy for the sex, but he’s waiting until she turns eighteen, legal. It was both moral and despicable all at once.
Daisy reluctantly rises to her feet and then hesitates, swaying on her heels as she realizes there aren’t any other open chairs left.
Julian ignores her as he speaks. “I hate to break it to all of you, but I’m an amazing bowler.” Awesome.
Ryke clears his throat like he’s trying to swallow an insult. “Excuse me,” he coughs into his hand. “I’m going to get something to drink. Dais, you can take my chair.” He rises, and Daisy walks towards his open seat.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
He nods stiffly, and she slumps down onto the chair.
“Make it a double,” I call out to him.
He gives me a sharp glare and the middle finger before leaving, passing Lily and Rose as they approach our lane.
Rose places the bowling ball in the return machine and holds out her hands like they’ve been infected with H1N1.
“Why didn’t you just buy a brand new ball?” Daisy asks as she swivels in the chair. “You already bought new shoes.”
“She tried,” Lily answers for Rose. “None of them fit her fingers.”
“This is just confirmation of what we already know,” I say, “Rose is a witch. Witch fingers are supposedly very skinny.”
Rose rakes me with a long yellow-green-eyed glare. “I hope you get athlete’s foot.”
Lily’s eyes widen. “Don’t curse him, Rose.”
I break out into a grin. There aren’t many times Lily sides with me over her sister. She likes to stay neutral for the most part. Rose, offended, turns on her sister, hands on her h*ps and her glare focused.
“I’m. Not. A. Witch,” Rose says slowly and distinctly.