SHE TALKS TO HERSELF.
Quietly. Sometimes quietly enough I can’t make out the words. Other times I wish I hadn’t heard.
When she did it at the Halloween party, I was ready to snap. What the fuck does she mean people with money judge hard? I clamped my teeth shut just in time when I realized those words weren’t meant for my ears.
Anyone’s ears.
Vee didn’t seem aware her unfiltered thoughts slipped out.
It’s fascinating.
Hurtful because she seems to think all I want is her to end up just another notch on my bedpost, but fucking fascinating nonetheless.
She unconsciously gives me a first-row seat into her thoughts, and while I might wish I didn’t hear some of them, I want to know how she operates.
And I sure fucking loved hearing that she was thinking about our kiss all week, so there’s that.
It’s not a constant string of words. Vee doesn’t blurt out everything, just some random lines. I’ve gathered so far that she only does it when she’s deep in her head. It’s like her thoughts race a million miles an hour, and if some aren’t spoken, she can’t focus.
It’s odd. Quirky. I love it.
Most of it.
But what she muttered and what she intentionally said aloud brought me to the same conclusion.
She thinks I’m too rich for her.
Something like this has never happened. Not that I’ve never been shot down by girls; that’s no novelty.
I’ve been shot down because they preferred one of my brothers. Because I’m careless. Because I’m too young to ask a beautiful thirty-year-old mom to a three-year-old daughter out for a drink, but never because I have money.
Too little money, sure. A Russian Princess, or whatever her title was, told me to beat it last year while we partied in Vegas, but too much money?
Who would’ve thought it could be an issue?
Despite the shit Vee said, despite her judgmental attitude and between-the-lines accusations, color me fucking impressed. For the first time, I met a girl turned off by designer clothes, expensive watches, and brand-new cars
I hold my hands up; Colt, Cody, and I have had it easy thus far. Mom and Dad paid our expenses until our twenty-first birthday a couple months ago. Nico bought us cars at seventeen, took us in so Mom didn’t watch us party, and pumped our accounts with cash every month since we started high school.
We did have it easy. And we’re off to a great start thanks to Nico gifting us portfolios worth almost two million dollars.
Still, it doesn’t make us entitled assholes. We don’t look down on anyone with less money.
We’ve been helping with Mom’s Charities since I remember. And Colt is Nico’s right-hand man these days, working his ass off managing our brother’s many businesses.
Cody spent the summer doing hands-on manual labor for Logan, and I’ve rebuilt Nico’s business websites from the ground up.
I lean against the side of my car outside Nico’s house, glaring at the pebbled driveway. It’s not the same Mustang he bought me four years ago. Along with the portfolios, we got new wheels: another beacon of our privileged life.
Taking a drag of my cigarette, I blow a long, forceful plume of smoke past my lips, anger and disappointment mixing in my veins.
I’ve been back here for half an hour, smoking one after another, though I’m mostly a social smoker. Parties, beer, good company all warrant a smoke. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m checking how many cigarettes in a row it takes before my head starts to throb, or my stomach ejects its contents.
Three aren’t doing it. Maybe five’s the number.
Maybe I should smoke faster.
Or maybe I should stop staring at the house, trees, and my own shoes like they somehow offended me and get inside.
My brothers know what happened last week. The kiss, my sudden unexplainable need and want for Vee, the charged air between us.
We don’t brag about who we hook up with, but the magnetic pull between Vee and me feels like a ton of bricks weighing down my chest. I couldn’t stop obsessing over the kiss for hours. I had to tell someone. Let it out. Vent, because every second on the couch with her while Mia took the stage was an exercise in self-control.
I’ve never tried so fucking hard not to drag a girl onto my lap, fold her into me, and kiss her.
I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t fucking want to. She unlocked something primal, wild, and unattainable I never knew existed deep within me.
I’m losing my mind here. Who gets so hooked after one kiss?
God, but what a fucking kiss…
I still feel her lips against mine. Soft, full, eager. It’s been days. Seven long days, but the memory lingers, taunting me non-stop. Her warm body pressing into mine, her fingers tugging my hair, her breath catching when I deepened the kiss…
That sweet, soft, surprised little moan I swallowed. The way she melted into me, fitting like a puzzle piece.
My sudden obsession wouldn’t be this surprising if my goal was to drag Vivienne into my bedroom and fuck her senseless, but the thought didn’t cross my mind until she was gone.
Despite way-too-many beers, my cock was rock hard before I even stepped in the shower later that night and it wasn’t long till I painted the tiles with my cum, reliving the kiss until my orgasm rattled through me.
A frustrated groan scrapes up my chest once the cigarette ends. I’m basically smoking the filter. I toss it onto the driveway, almost snapping the bridge of my nose between my fingers and a heavy sigh saws past my clenched teeth.
Fuck.
I’m overreacting.
So she doesn’t want to go out with me… who cares? She’s not the first and won’t be the last. Granted, most girls at college would rip their right arm off for a date with me, Colt, or Cody while Vee acts like I’m Hugh Hefner trying to buy a night.
Still, it’s no reason to drive myself batshit crazy.
Other than that cute, quirky first impression and mind-blowing kiss, she’s not exactly a catch with that judgmental worldview.
I cross the driveway, wondering why Nico never had it paved. The crunch of gravel grinding under my sneakers sets my teeth on edge. To be fair, everything has since I left Vivienne alone on the street.
The garage stands open, Nico’s four cars and Cody’s Mustang parked in a neat line. Colt must be putting out fires, tending to emergencies at Nico’s cocktail bars or The Olive Tree.
Lights flicker from Cody’s second-floor bedroom window, making it my destination as I enter the house. He’s either watching a violent action movie or gaming online. Neither is as important as me venting, though.
I jog upstairs, two steps at a time, then knock loud enough to wake the dead.
One.
Two.
Three seconds.
Long enough for Cody to shove his dick back in his pants if I guessed wrong, and it’s not an action movie he’s watching.
Though there’s plenty of action in porn…
“Come in!” he yells.
Pointless, considering I’m already pushing the door open, casting a quick glance around in case I’m imposing.
The TV is on, the qualifying session of the Japan Grand Prix about to end. Shit. I forgot it’s race weekend. I promised we’d watch it together.
At least Ghost, the python now considered a family pet, is here, though not giving two fucks about the race, curled into a large coil at the foot of the bed.
“What’s up?” Cody asks, eyes glued to the flat screen.
“Wanna grab a beer? Or five?”
Now he looks over, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t go well, I take it? What did she say?”
“That I’m too rich for her.”
“Too rich? You’re not rich, bro. Nico’s rich.”
“I own a Rolex, a brand-new car, designer clothes, and…” I get comfortable in the wing chair by the door. “She’s odd.”
“I thought that’s what you liked most.”
I nod, temporarily lost in my head. “She’s just… I don’t know. I don’t understand this girl. You know I don’t take them out—”
“So why are you pining?”
“I’m not pining,” I growl.
I so am.
Don’t know why, but I am.
I want that girl so fucking bad my skin itches.
“When she suggested a date, the idea grabbed me so hard I can’t shake it. I want that fucking date. Just one for now. See how it goes, but she’s acting like I asked her to marry me.”
Cody mutes the TV, drags his feet off the bed, propping both elbows on his knees, and offers his full attention.
Fine.
Beer can wait. Maybe he’ll notice something I’m missing.
I relay mine and Vee’s entire conversation, holding nothing back, not even how she looked me over when I walked into The Well. How her voice quivered when she spilled beer over my jeans.
They’re still damp. I smell like a goddamn brewery.
Halfway through my monologue, Colt arrives with a case of Coronas, eyebrows drawing together as he tunes into my words. “Who looked ready to burst out crying?” he asks, throwing himself onto Cody’s bed. “We talking about that Bee girl?”
“Not really talking,” Cody muses, opening the case and popping the caps off three bottles. “Conor’s airing his laundry.”
“Ah, right. Nothing better than your unfiltered thoughts at full volume. Start from the top.”
“But this time,” Cody says, “…keep some details to yourself. We don’t need to know she smells so fucking fresh or how pretty her eyes are to understand your point, bro.”
With a heavy sigh, I rewind, catching Colt up so he’ll throw his five cents in at the end. I don’t know why I bother. Asking him for advice about women is like asking Logan.
Pretty fucking useless.
How Logan keeps Cassidy happy, glowing, and in love with him is anyone’s guess.
“So?” I urge when I’m done.
They just sit there, silently processing. The room is quiet save for Ghost slithering away toward the door like he’s had enough of me talking and is now thinking fuck this, I don’t wanna live here anymore.
“Any ideas?” I ask, the words entirely too desperate, hinting how much I need their help to figure this out.
“It sounds like there’s more to it than you two being from different worlds,” Cody says, swigging his beer.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“How the fuck should I know? I spoke one sentence to her.”
“She might have had a bad experience with someone like you,” Colt suggests, leaning his shoulder against the headboard, a frown creasing his forehead.
“What the hell do you mean someone like me?” I snap, my temper on the rise. “You think I’m a rich prick?”
“So fragile,” Cody chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax, if you’re a rich prick, so are we. I think what Colt means—”
“What I mean is maybe some trust-fund asshole hurt her, and now she sees all guys through the same pair of glasses. Or…” he trails off, leaving the idea hanging in the air.
God, I swear, one day I’ll smack his stupid face. Colt loves building tension, turning the screws with these long pauses. It’s mildly annoying most days but tonight he’s pushing my buttons with expert precision.
“Or? Or what?” I reach for another beer, the condensation dripping freezing lines down my fingers.
Conor shrugs. “Or she’s not used to being pursued. Maybe you intimidate her.”
“So I’m basically screwed, right?”
“Giving up so easily?” Colt tuts. “You like this girl. That’s what makes you chase her even though she keeps telling you no.”
“Find out what bothers her,” Cody adds, combing a few loose strands back into his bun. “Maybe she’s not ready for anything serious. Or she’s afraid you only want something casual. You tried digging deeper?”
“Yeah. As much as she let me.” I groan, my head smacking the wing chair. “I wanted to kiss her so badly I was practically fucking drooling.”
“Then try again. She already shot you down two times, a third won’t do your ego any more damage,” Colt says. “You said she mentioned her friend’s birthday tomorrow, right? They’ll probably be going out somewhere in town.”
“Or she lied to get rid of me.”
“Or that.” He smirks, pulling his phone out. Detective Colt on a mission. “We’ll see.”
Everyone compares him to Nico because they’re both sharp, intelligent, and shrouded in danger, but in some ways, Colt resembles Logan. Careless despite his excellent work ethic and outgoing enough he’s on a first-name basis with half of Newport. He’s probably texting his friends, asking if anyone knows Vee or her friend—Abby—and where they’ll be tomorrow night.
Fingers crossed he gets some intel.
