With Bishop, it’s easy.
Calm.
Friendly?
“No,” I whisper, resting my head into his arm. It must catch him off guard because his eyes snap to the action. I stand up straight. “Vitiosis is my name, too.”
“Touché.” Bishop chuckles, finally removing his finger from my neck. He’s walking toward my door when I stop him in his tracks.
“Madison…” I try the simple word that no one will speak.
His shoulders visibly still, his fingers flexing over the gold handle. He doesn’t move, but I can already feel the energy in the room shift. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m going to anyway. Tillie filled me in a little bit about him and her. If they love each other that much, why are they not together?
He still hasn’t moved, so I take the shot I’m wanting to shoot. Only now I don’t know what to say. “I won’t talk about her. But I want you to know that if you would like, you can talk about her to me. If you want.” His shoulders rise and fall. “I just mean, you can—”
“—fuck.” He swings the door open and slams it behind his departure, shocking me with his harsh retreat. Maybe I overstepped. I don’t know. But there’s a reason why I think I’ve felt connected to Bishop, and I’m hoping that maybe that connection can be a friendship.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I stand in front of my Victorian mirror, catching Kore and Hades’ eyes in the reflection. “Too much?”
Kore almost dismisses me, placing her head back onto her bed, but Hades is still staring. He tilts his head.
“Maybe?”
It cocks to the other side. Sometimes I wonder if he sees the ghosts that walk this property.
I’m dressed simpler tonight. Black high-waisted boyfriend jeans that cut off above my ankles and a tight turtleneck. I slip on my Givenchy sneakers while scooping my phone up from my bed just as a text comes through.
?: I’ll see you tonight.
I pause, not quite reaching for the handle, and pull my hand back to reply.
Saint: You are coming to the party?
Pushing my phone into my back pocket, I open the door and make my way downstairs, passing the portrait paintings of Brantley’s family on the way down.
Once I hit the bottom of the stairs, the music is louder. No one is inside the house; they’re all outside near the pool—and my garden. The thought makes me anxious.
I round the corner to the kitchen when I bump into Tillie, head deep in the freezer. “Ah, you okay?”
She yelps, jumping back while hitting her head on the way up, rubbing it gently. “Shit, Saint, you scared me. Yes, I’m fine. Do you guys not have ice cream in this house?”
I hold my giggle. She looks flustered. Her pink hair is in natural waves and her face is, from what I can tell, free of any makeup. “We do, it’s in the freezer in the garage, though.”
She eyes me up and down. “No sundress tonight?”
“Well.” I smile. “There’s no sun, so no.”
Her eyes narrow. “Ha. You do have a sense of humor.” Turning, she mutters, “Gets that from me.”
“Sorry?”
“Hmmm?” She looks up at me like she’s said something she shouldn’t have. “Nothing. I just…” She flicks her hands up and down my body. “Really love your style. It’s unconventional. I like that one day you’re wearing a sweet little dress and then the next you could be wearing boyfriend jeans and—are those the new Givenchy?”
My cheeks flare. “I love to shop as much as I love fashion. I’ve become reliant on it to keep me busy over the years. As well as my plants.”
“Ahhh, so you grow the boys’ pot?”
“The what?” I ask, confused.
“Shit,” Tillie stutters. “I’m going to get in so much trouble with Bran.” She reaches her hand out. “Pass me your phone, I’ll put my number in it.”
I slip it out of my back pocket, unlocking and handing it to her. Her fingers fire over my screen quickly before she gives it back to me, just as a notification comes through.
“Before you go out there, we are doing a selfie for Instagram.”
“For what?” It’s the millionth time since meeting Brantley’s friends that I feel like an outcast.
“Of course the brute didn’t allow you to have Instagram. We’ll set yours up later and let me deal with his wrath.” She flips her phone camera around and wriggles in front of me. “Smile!”
I do. Baring a full-tooth grin. Tillie brings the phone back down and checks over the photo. I like it. “Jeez. You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you,” I say, pointing at her. “We almost have the same smile.”
Tillie freezes, before typing out a caption. The Sinner & The Saint… or is she?
I raise an eyebrow at her caption. I know what it means. I laugh anyway, and then quickly open my app store to download Instagram. “You’ll have to show me how to use it. I’ve never had any apps on my phone, only my computer.”