“She’s fifteen, not twelve.” India rolls her eyes and before I can argue back to Royce, a red cup is in my hand, alcohol sloshing over the rim, spilling over my hand. “One won’t hurt you, and you know you got it from me, not some shady motherfucker at the bar.”
Royce leans forward to take the cup out of my hands when I pull away from him, eyebrows raised in challenge. “You know, she’s sort of right. I mean, just how much trouble can I really get into when I have all three of my big, overprotective brothers here to scare everyone away?”
“Duchess…” Royce warns, his jaw set.
“Leave her be,” Annette whines, kissing on Royce’s neck. “No one touches her anyway.” She laughs, but Royce whacks her hand away from him.
“Royce, just this once, and I’m not asking for permission.” I narrow my eyes in challenge. I know he wants to fight, and being Royce, he wouldn’t back down from it for the sake of everyone watching. He doesn’t give a shit. But before he can say anything else, I turn my back on both of them and face India.
“So,” I murmur, sipping on the—what I’m guessing—is bourbon and Coke, but also not really interested in drinking now that my point is made. “How come I’ve never seen you at one of these?”
India chuckles, but her face falls before she can cover it. I watch as the warmth from the scorching flames sparks an orange hue over her otherwise pale cheeks. “I guess I’m new. I start my senior year on Monday, actually. Not too excited about it.”
Placing my full cup down onto the sand, I snuggle into my hoodie. “Stone View isn’t bad. It’s about the equivalent to Hogwarts, only everyone is muggles and instead of Hagrid, we have Hagdid. I shit you not, our headmaster’s name is Hagdid.”
We both burst out laughing as we slip into small talk. After trading cell numbers with India, I stand from my seat and swipe off the sand that’s on my butt. “I’ll text you on Sunday, maybe we can meet up. You can meet Sloane. You’ll get along disturbingly well.”
India gazes up at me, the depth to her hazel brown eyes holding so many secrets. I get the feeling that she has lived a thousand lives. What would she be doing at Lake View?
“Sure!” She winks at me. “See ya later, Little J.”
Hated that name, loved her.
Weaving through the sea of drunk bodies, I keep my head down. I’m almost at the beginning of the steep track that connects the beach to the back yard of Orson’s house when a hand connects to my arm.
“Royce.” I turn to face him, expecting some cheeky smirk and maybe some scolding for drinking, but instead his eyes are focused on me, searching my body.
“You wanna go home?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. “It’s late. We can just crash in the pool house like always.” As we’ve gotten older, our connection or bond has become stronger, and that’s a testament for how strong it is because when we first laid eyes on each other, we were done. It was as though the universe just fucking shifted anytime we were around each other after that. He embedded himself into my heart and I sewed my name across his limbs. We fight a lot, but we love hard and when it comes to him and me, one cannot exist without the other.
Royce Kane is undeniably my best friend.
He nods his head toward the ocean. “I’ve only had a couple. I can drive.” His hand slips down from my arm and his fingers intertwine with mine. At the sudden connection, it’s as though my heartbeat pulses for the first time ever. Blood rushes through my ears and my cheeks flush hot. I’m thankful—so fucking thankful—for the blanket of the night. “Come on, Dutch…” I’m fifteen, he is eighteen. I never feel uncomfortable around him in that sense—ever, but—wait. Wait, the fuck on a minute. Why am I sizing up our ages?
Shivering with the sudden repulsiveness of what just passed through my mind, I retract myself from him and fling my arms around my torso protectively.
As if that could help.
As if Royce wouldn’t just tear everything and anything down to get to what he wants if he needs to.
“I don’t want to deal with the questions. I’ll just go up to the room.” It wasn’t all a lie, because I truly couldn’t be bothered with all the raised eyebrows and questions from people who would see us leave on Green Stone.
“Fuck them,” he says, shrugging.
I open my mouth, deciding we could just stay out on the boat instead of in the pool house, when skinny fingers and red nails come into view, spreading out over Royce’s stomach. Annette gazes at me from behind his arm. “Hey, baby, I’m tired, can we go on your boat like you said?”