She stops fiddling with the clasp for a moment. “What does it matter?”
“Because we’re friends. Because I want to get to know you better.” And because I’m tired of being the one who’s doing all the sharing. I’ve told her things I haven’t told anyone else. Meanwhile, she continues to be all mysterious, acting like she’d rather shave her head than confide in me.
There’s a tiny flicker of scorn in her eyes. “Yeah, you keep throwing around the friend word. You keep saying you’re cool with just being friends. But a part of me feels like it’s a long con or something. Like you’re doing all this because you want to get in my pants.”
I curl my fists against my sides. “If you believe that, why are you even here?”
She goes silent again.
“You’re lucky I decided to keep my hands off you.”
Her mouth falls open. “Lucky?”
“Yeah. Because if I wanted us to be naked, we’d be naked. I’m just playing the game the way you want right now.”
“Wow. Real nice, Easton.” She jerks hard on the chain, and the fragile clasp gives way. “Thanks for the game, movie, and food.”
Fuck.
“Wait. Don’t go. I was joking.”
She drops the necklace on the counter without meeting my eyes. “Uh-huh. I’ve got to take off now.”
I tamp down a burst of anxiety. The night’s barely begun and I definitely don’t want to be home alone. “Come on, Hartley. I stayed in for you tonight and you’re leaving already? Over what? Because I jokingly hit on you?”
“No, because I’m tired and I want to go home. You didn’t have to stay in. It was your choice.” She strides out to the front hall.
I snatch the necklace off the counter and chase after her, the gold chain dangling between my fingers. “I made that choice because it’s what friends do, remember? Make sacrifices.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” she replies coolly.
I can feel my temper boiling. “I won’t. In fact, you can find your own ride home.”
She jerks the heavy oak doors open. “I will.”
And then she leaves.
She just…walks out the door, down the steps and keeps going. I watch her from the foyer window, her slender frame getting tinier and tinier as she makes her way down the driveway.
Not once does she look back.
I’m glad she’s gone, I tell myself. I’ve been dying for a drink, and now that I don’t have to worry about making her uncomfortable, I can get that drink. I stare at the necklace in my hand, tempted to whip it against the wall. In the end, I shove it in my pocket, because Lauren was right. Damn thing did cost fifteen grand. Might as well save it for the next girl. This time I’ll pick someone who’s grateful and actually appreciates me.
I stomp off to Dad’s study and raid the liquor cabinet. The only stuff that’s left is his disgusting port. I guzzle the sweet shit down, anyway. Booze is booze. This’ll get me the buzz that I need.
I can’t believe her. I’ve been nice to her. I’ve stood up for her. I’ve protected her. She should be glad. She should be on her little knees thanking me for throwing the mantle of the Royals over her.
The mantle of the Royals?
I nearly puke in my mouth. Is that the kind of person I’ve turned into? No wonder she didn’t want to spend more time with me.
I fumble around and look for another bottle. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the warnings of my brothers, telling me not to flush my life down the tube.
“No pills. No drugs,” I tell my imaginary brothers. “Just a little booze. Nothing wrong with that.”
As I tip the bottle against my lips, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall. My mom’s picture used to be up there. Now it’s a reflective monstrosity. How can the old man stand to look at himself? Wait, he’s never here, so that’s why.
I’m the only one here, drinking crap I can’t stand because I don’t want to spend a minute of my life alone. My head’s a bad, bad place.
I clench the bottle tighter in my fist. Drinking alone is for losers. I, Easton Royal, am not a loser. I finish off the bottle and grab a second one and stumble toward the beach.
Chapter 21
The walk to Felicity’s is a blur, but I find myself at the right spot. Or at least what appears to be the right spot, judging by the number of bodies smashed on one patch of sand.
“Easton Royal!”
I hear my name called out by a number of kids. Felicity must’ve invited non-Astor peeps, because I recognize the faces of some folks who’ve started college already.
“Hey, Felicity’s been looking all over for you,” someone says. “She’s pretty pissed. You may want to hide.”
“Stu brought girls from college down. They’re so fine.” Another guy bites his fist. “I can’t wait to graduate.”
“Where’s the booze?” I mutter.
“Pool house. But…man, you look lit already. Sure you need anymore?”
“If I want your input, I’ll ask for it.”
I shove past him, not even registering who it was. Up the small incline, I spot the pool, pool house, and a small dance floor set off to the side. Ella’s on it with Val. They love to shake their booties.
I grab a glass out of some dude’s hand and make my way over. Behind me, there’s a scuffle and some protests, but I flip the guy off and then ignore him. He can get another drink easily. I muscle over to the girls, spilling half my drink along the way.
“God, who’s the drunk—” Lindsey from Government breaks off mid-rant. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Got a problem with me?” I drawl.
“No,” she replies, but her eyes say a different thing.
I give her a cool smile and step to the side. “Good call.”
“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.
“Bitch.”
A meaty hand grabs my shoulder. “I heard that, Royal. You’re the one spilling shit all over people.”
Blearily, I peer into the new face. It’s Zeke, Lindsey’s thick-necked boyfriend.
“I know you don’t get enough attention at home, Zeke, but you’re barking up the wrong tree,” I inform him. “Either get your hands off my Tom Ford original or fork over the grand for a replacement.”
A red-faced Zeke hauls back to deliver a punch. If it landed, it would’ve hurt like hell, but he moves slower than a snail. I duck under his grip, grab his wrist, and pull it up behind his back. He falls to his knees.
Lindsey cries out. Then another voice yells my name.
“Easton! Easton!” A pair of small hands ineffectually push at me. It’s Ella. She looks worried.
“What’s up, baby sis?”
“What’re you doing?”
I whip my free hand wide and the remaining liquid in my glass splashes over the rest of the dance floor. “I’m here to party.”
“You’re drunk.” She claws at my fist—the one that’s gripping Zeke tight.
“Two gold stars for you! I’d clap for you but my hands are full.” I lift the glass high. If I bring it down at the right angle, I could knock Zeke out. That might be fun.
Lindsey’s screaming has turned into sad little cries. I start humming to drown her out.
“Where’s Hartley?” Ella demands.
“Who cares.” My throat seizes up on the lie. I care. I care too fucking much.