Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dean
Something is wrong with Tiernan.
It’s Friday, the fourth night I’ve been staying at his house, but I can tell something is off with him today. He’s even more of an asshole than usual. More importantly, there’s this sharp note of danger in the air. He’s got this quiet, calculating, disconnected edge to him that’s pissing me off. I’m still not sure how I feel about Cillian, but he has it too, in a more low-key way than Tiernan. Rory is in and out, even more energetic than usual. And Aislin is quiet. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to realize something is going on and I’m the only one who isn’t in on it.
I’m used to not fitting in, to not being part of a group—any group—but it’s different this time, making that deep, black pit inside me grow, the one that so often tries to pull me in deeper. I’ve lived a lot of my life there, bathing in that anger, but now that’s not all that’s there. It’s hurt too, which does nothing but piss me off more. Do I think any of them actually give a shit about me? That they wouldn’t stab me in the back the first chance they get, or even worse, that they won’t just drop me because I really don’t matter to them? I’d be fucking stupid to believe any of that, and I hate myself for giving a shit at all.
The house is full of people because for a reason I don’t understand, Tiernan decided today was the perfect day to throw a party. I’ve hardly seen him all night. I’ll catch glimpses here and there, and each time he’s carrying a cup I know he’s filling with beer.
My ass has been planted on the same couch cushion most of the night, cup in hand that I haven’t touched while I watch the party go on around me—dancing, laughing, kissing, and lines of coke being snorted off the coffee table.
I figure them selling drugs is a big reason for this evening. It’s annoying to me. Parties, this many people, have never been my thing. I only did it the first night to get close to Tiernan.
Tiernan, whom I’ve been naked with three nights in a row, but who is ignoring me tonight.
Nah, that shit’s not gonna fly with me.
I stand, set my cup down, and push through the crowd to find him. He’s not in the living room, dining room, or the kitchen. With each step I take, the anger in me intensifies, my spine straight, my muscles tense. Is he with someone? Because if that motherfucker wants me to be his, he better not be touching anyone else right now.
I try his office, but like always, the door is locked. I’ve never even been inside it. He’s locked himself in there with Cillian more than once, each time annoying me more and more.
I’ve been practicing picking locks since I was six. It’s something Mom insisted I learn how to do. She was so tired of this lifestyle after what it took from her, but there were still things she instilled in me, like learning how to fight, partly because she wanted me to be able to take care of myself, but partly, I think, because maybe it had become more ingrained in her than she wanted to believe. Maybe it’s in our blood and there’s nothing we can do about it. That’s the way it feels for me.
I take a step down the hallway and toward the bathroom, hoping there’s something in there I can use to pick the lock, when I hear laughter coming from the media room. I recognize it immediately, making a riot ignite in my gut.
He can laugh with whoever the fuck is in there yet not say a word to me all night?
I shove open the door, and Tiernan doesn’t even bother looking up. There are about ten people with him, the large screen in front of the room not on. Cillian is there, of course. He’s always fucking there, this goddamned shadow who does anything Tiernan wants.
Two girls are dancing with each other, both in their bras, sensually moving together, their lips teasing, then touching, kissing, then pulling away. It’s dusty with smoke—two bongs being passed around—one girl and one guy on either side of Tiernan, both too fucking close for comfort. I recognize desire when I see it, and they both want him, are both hoping to have him.
“If it isn’t the fucking new kid,” Cillian says before putting one of the bongs to his mouth and inhaling. “Like an annoying fly that never goes away.”
“Eat shit,” I tell him. “Better than a fucking puppy following around at Tiernan’s heels.”
“Fuck you.” He shoves to his feet but only makes it two steps before Tiernan speaks.