“Why?” Gabe wrinkles his nose.
I shrug. “Dunno. I haven’t had a chance to do it yet.”
“What’s his full name?” Rush asks, pulling out his phone.
“Émile Cromwell.”
The phone clatters to the ground and Rush gapes at me, wide-eyed. “You don’t know who that is?”
Chapter 11
Émile
It’s been hours without a text from Christian and I’m trying not to let it worry me.
Urg, who am I kidding?
The worry started ages ago. Now my gut is in knots, certain he’s changed his mind. And I get it, I have a lot of baggage. My family is extreme and not only would we be lying to them, we’d be lying to the general public. To anyone who cares enough to follow my life. And there’s a few hundred thousand of those people. It’d be enough to scare any sensible person off, and Christian’s self-preservation gene is strong.
“So …” Elle says, walking in and not bothering to knock. “Where were you last night?”
“Oh, come on. How do you know I wasn’t jerking off in here?”
“Because you were gone all night. I’d be genuinely shocked and disappointed if you had any of those body fluids left.”
For a brief moment, the bad vibes over me lighten. The entire night was amazing, but my memory keeps coming back to that moment in the shower, Christian on his knees, lips puffy andred, streaks of my cum over his skin. I’d do anything to see him like that again.
“Well, you have nothing to worry about because he drained me dry.” I flop back on my bed.
“Then why do you look like you just took a straight shot of tequila?”
I toss a pillow at her. “I do not. I’m … thinking.”
“Uh huh.” Elle shoves my legs aside and sits down next to me. “And is he the reason you disappeared last night?”
“Yep. He needed a date and it conveniently got me out of the rest of the memorial.”
“Lucky you.” She inspects her nails. “Clifford was parading Martha around like a goddamn show pony. She said my hair was auniquechoice. Unique,” Elle snarls. “Like I need her approval anyway.”
“What hair?” I smirk, and she grabs my discarded pillow to hit me with it.
“Anyway, since you abandoned me, I demand to know everything.”
“Okay, but remember you asked.”
The more I talk, the more Elle’s mouth drops.
“Was he cute?”
Of course those are the first words out of Elle’s mouth.
“Dreamy.” The more I think about him, the more hauntingly beautiful I find him. For a scruffy, walking disaster.It’s the eyes…
“So when are you seeing him again?” Her tone is casual, like it’s a given, and that reminder sinks lead into my gut.
“Not sure if I am.”
“Are you kidding?”