I shrugged and mouthed back, “I don’t know.”
Her pretty face morphed into a scowl, and she snatched the drink away making me laugh. I hadn’t planned on drinking it. I wasn’t an idiot.
Some random guy who could’ve passed as an extra in Blade since he thought it was cool to wear sunglasses indoors had given it to me, saying something about being at a party empty-handed.
I’d been looking for a place to ditch it without having to venture all the way back to the kitchen. Gracelyn simply dumped the contents in a random decorative vase before placing the cup beside a few others that had been abandoned.
I nudged her shoulder to ease us further away from the makeshift dance floor. “Where’s, Mel?”
She looped her arm through mine and pointed in the general direction of the patio. I continued to keep an eye out for my sister as we made the short journey to that side of the house. As we were passing the spacious billiard room, I did a quick check to make sure she wasn’t with the group of people gathered inside.
I didn’t see Lamia, but someone else did catch my eye. Again. He was the last person I expected to see here. I’d had both the pleasure and displeasure of falling into our usual routine multiple times since my arrival. He was with his usual crew, plus a few stragglers. I’d heard he and his friends typically stuck to parties that were so private you only knew the location the day of and through a secretive messaging system. I had no clue how true this was or not.
Secrets and mystery were a natural part of the lives we lived, meaning it could be a truth, lie, or a mix of both. That’s why I didn’t put much stock in the rumor mill. I knew firsthand how hard it was to fact-check the information circulating through it.
He stood beside the pool table with a stick in hand, waiting for his turn to shoot. He glanced away from the game taking place. Our eyes met and a shiver of awareness snaked down my spine.
It didn’t matter how many times I saw him. This reaction was something he seemed to exclusively evoke.
My illicit attraction to him was more than skin deep. I wouldn’t argue how fine the guy was, though. I’d always thought he was gorgeous. Not in the way the sun was when it shined in a clear blue sky, but more like a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, filling the darkness with fleeting sparks of light.
His eyes were strikingly blue, standing out against his naturally tan skin. It was a similar shade to Gracelyn’s whereas mine was more bronze thanks to my mix of Hispanic and Italian genes. Our connection lasted only a few seconds if that. His supple lips pressed firmly together, and he returned his focus to the game going on, causing a strand of his dark brown hair to fall from its resting place.
He’d changed up the cut since I last saw him, leaving it long on top and short on the sides. Not paying any attention to where I was going, I almost walked right into an angled section of the wall. I dodged it at the last second with a tug from Grace.
“I told you to watch out,” she admonished with a laugh.
“I was checking for my sister.”
“Sure, you were.”
“I was,” I argued without any real heat.
“Okay, well, I think Lamia’s idea is to blend with the crowd. Hanging around those guys is exactly the opposite of blending in.”
This was true.
Their popularity aside, they weren’t the kind of company we would keep. Our families had a whole Hatfield’s and McCoy’s thing going on. I didn’t know all the specifics of why or what began such a long-winded feud.
Whatever it was had been the reason for underlying tension between the other families involved in the politics of our world for as long as I could remember.
Sides were chosen, not based on right or wrong but by who they felt would come out on top whenever all was said and done, which was a risky gamble if you asked me. I thought it would be smarter to remain neutral and align yourself with the better opponent when the timing was right.
Secondly, was simply because of them, who they were.
On the surface, they were gorgeous, intelligent, wealthy, and charming when necessary. If you were to peel back all their layers, you would find the inside wasn’t nearly as beguiling. Like Pandora’s box, you’d see what kind of evil and cunning viciousness could be found in alluring packages.
These attributes were typically bold red flags for girls brought up in a mundane fashion. I couldn’t imagine what that would be like, raised safe and secure instead of in a world of bloodshed and power struggles. It made guys like Ciaran a hot commodity, giving me more incentive to stay away from him.