night. That’s all I’m asking.”
She meets my gaze, and the solemn concern makes my insides clench. “One night,” she says.
I know I’m only postponing the inevitable. Amy will bring this up again, and she’s right. Eventually I will have to introduce my sister to Shane. Eventually I’ll have to give in and let him have sex with me.
History is repeating itself…
That dark little voice in my head reminds me this is all I’d ever been meant for. Shut up and look pretty. The mafia princess who wasn’t even a legitimate daughter. At least that’s what the whispers said. So I tried even harder to be perfect—to be quieter and prettier.
Only my sister was strong enough to defy what was expected of her.
To escape the cruel fiancé chosen for her, we went on the run. We came to Tanglewood to hide. Honor met Kip, who protected her when we were found.
And now we’re safe to be with whomever we want.
Except the only boy I want is the one who died to save us.
* * *
The light drizzle from earlier has turned into a hot summer shower, so we order an Uber and wait under the overhang until it pulls up. The art department uses the older buildings in the university, without the glass and smooth granite bricks of the engineering building. Of course it’s a campus joke because the art department doesn’t have much money or resources. But I actually like the crumbling old buildings, the feeling of history, of being a part of something bigger than myself. Maybe that’s because most of the time I feel so small.
My loft is a one-bedroom apartment just off campus, as ancient as those old buildings. Honor wasn’t thrilled about me moving out, but it was just too stifling knowing she worried about me every time I came home late. So I moved here last semester with the promise that I visit at least once a week for Sunday night dinner.
We get to Party Row when Saturday night is in full swing, flashing neon signs advertising clubs and tattoo parlors and thinly veiled illegal pursuits. The car stops at the end of the street, where barricades are set up and a couple of rent-a-cops flirt with a group of college coeds.
Drunk guys and girls move from bar to bar, in the street. There are some old folks who come out, a shirtless guy in a rainbow Speedo, a man in a cowboy hat shouting at people who walk by. A couple of people have pamphlets that promise to save our souls.
Pretty much a regular Saturday night.
Amy and I hit the sidewalk and head toward the opposite end of the street where the newer, shadier clubs open up. Of course that’s where Club X would be.
“Hey, girls, let me show you a good time,” a guy yells to us from across the street.
His friend laughs at him. “You fucking wish.”
Amy rolls her eyes but puts a little sway in her step for him. As much as she gives me a hard time about Shane, she enjoys the occasional drunk frat boy. They have their purposes, she says mysteriously. She means sex, and usually I nod along as if I know what that’s about—even though she knows I don’t.
We get catcalled all the way to Club X, where the line is halfway around the block.
“Not waiting,” Amy says. “Tell your boyfriend to come get us.”
Shane has a way of getting what he wants. Most of the time people just have to look at him. Something about him screams privilege, and they instinctively defer to that. But if that doesn’t work, he doesn’t mind slipping a couple twenties to get his point across.
Except if he has to leave his friends, he’s going to be grumpy.
“Come on,” I say, taking Amy’s hand.
I lead her up to the bouncer and give him my best smile. I don’t bother trying to be seductive, since I have exactly no clue how to do that. That’s Amy’s job. And besides, I have a decent track record with my innocent look. Maybe they think I got lost on my way to the library?
The bouncer gives me a once-over. He’s built and really pretty hot in a tight-black T-shirt.
She meets my gaze, and the solemn concern makes my insides clench. “One night,” she says.
I know I’m only postponing the inevitable. Amy will bring this up again, and she’s right. Eventually I will have to introduce my sister to Shane. Eventually I’ll have to give in and let him have sex with me.
History is repeating itself…
That dark little voice in my head reminds me this is all I’d ever been meant for. Shut up and look pretty. The mafia princess who wasn’t even a legitimate daughter. At least that’s what the whispers said. So I tried even harder to be perfect—to be quieter and prettier.
Only my sister was strong enough to defy what was expected of her.
To escape the cruel fiancé chosen for her, we went on the run. We came to Tanglewood to hide. Honor met Kip, who protected her when we were found.
And now we’re safe to be with whomever we want.
Except the only boy I want is the one who died to save us.
* * *
The light drizzle from earlier has turned into a hot summer shower, so we order an Uber and wait under the overhang until it pulls up. The art department uses the older buildings in the university, without the glass and smooth granite bricks of the engineering building. Of course it’s a campus joke because the art department doesn’t have much money or resources. But I actually like the crumbling old buildings, the feeling of history, of being a part of something bigger than myself. Maybe that’s because most of the time I feel so small.
My loft is a one-bedroom apartment just off campus, as ancient as those old buildings. Honor wasn’t thrilled about me moving out, but it was just too stifling knowing she worried about me every time I came home late. So I moved here last semester with the promise that I visit at least once a week for Sunday night dinner.
We get to Party Row when Saturday night is in full swing, flashing neon signs advertising clubs and tattoo parlors and thinly veiled illegal pursuits. The car stops at the end of the street, where barricades are set up and a couple of rent-a-cops flirt with a group of college coeds.
Drunk guys and girls move from bar to bar, in the street. There are some old folks who come out, a shirtless guy in a rainbow Speedo, a man in a cowboy hat shouting at people who walk by. A couple of people have pamphlets that promise to save our souls.
Pretty much a regular Saturday night.
Amy and I hit the sidewalk and head toward the opposite end of the street where the newer, shadier clubs open up. Of course that’s where Club X would be.
“Hey, girls, let me show you a good time,” a guy yells to us from across the street.
His friend laughs at him. “You fucking wish.”
Amy rolls her eyes but puts a little sway in her step for him. As much as she gives me a hard time about Shane, she enjoys the occasional drunk frat boy. They have their purposes, she says mysteriously. She means sex, and usually I nod along as if I know what that’s about—even though she knows I don’t.
We get catcalled all the way to Club X, where the line is halfway around the block.
“Not waiting,” Amy says. “Tell your boyfriend to come get us.”
Shane has a way of getting what he wants. Most of the time people just have to look at him. Something about him screams privilege, and they instinctively defer to that. But if that doesn’t work, he doesn’t mind slipping a couple twenties to get his point across.
Except if he has to leave his friends, he’s going to be grumpy.
“Come on,” I say, taking Amy’s hand.
I lead her up to the bouncer and give him my best smile. I don’t bother trying to be seductive, since I have exactly no clue how to do that. That’s Amy’s job. And besides, I have a decent track record with my innocent look. Maybe they think I got lost on my way to the library?
The bouncer gives me a once-over. He’s built and really pretty hot in a tight-black T-shirt.
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