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Breaking up with your boyfriend, is this some strange ploy to have makeup sex, or are you just copying Mom and Dad?” With those words, he obliterates the oxygen from the room. “What?” “Mom and Dad,” Charlie repeats, the music shrill. “You do know Mom used to break up with Dad before they were married. All the fucking time. But she would do it because she was pissed at him. Not at herself.” He waves a hand at me. “There’s a lot of self-loathing coming from this corner.”
“That’s one of my favorite things about being with someone.” He sips his beer. “What is?” I pop in a battery with one hand. “Going through shit together. Growing with the person you love.” He smiles into his next swig, his gaze on Maximoff Hale.
I grab another fucked radio from the box. “That’s why I’m dating a Cobalt and you aren’t.” “No shit.” He smiles. The corner of my mouth upturns, and we swig beer at the same time. When we look over at Jane and Maximoff, we notice they’re already watching us, their expressions thunderstruck and curious: mouths gaping, eyes cinched, question marks dangling over their heads. It’s fucking comical.
As the poker game dies down, Oscar and Donnelly come over and test the waters with me. Oscar upnods. “If you need pointers, Moretti, we have a professional dick pic photographer on the team.” He squeezes Donnelly’s shoulder. “Straight up.” Donnelly slips a ballpoint pen behind his ear. “I can make your five-inch wiener look like a foot-long.”
But this, right here, is the first instance they’ve felt comfortable enough to rib me about my nine-inch cock. Maybe they realize I won’t reprimand them. Oscar grins. “Donnelly, if he’s five-inches, you’re a centimeter.” “Give me a tape measure, man.” Farrow swallows beer and stands. “I was trying to get away from you fuckers.”
“Jane already took the dick pics.” Oscar chokes on beer. “Jane took them? So you two are…” I nod. Farrow translates. “They’re good.” “You pose for her?” Donnelly banters. “Close-ups?” Oscar chimes in. “Girls love that anus shot, you get that one?” Farrow laughs hard, and fuck it, I laugh too.
Tension gone, Oscar picks up the conversation. “I could cheers to that: love, pussy, and add in good dick.” Farrow quips, “What’s bad dick feel like, Oliveira?” “I don’t know, Redford, you tell me. You’re the one who slept with that redheaded witch.” He brings up Rowin Hart, his ex-boyfriend, who almost assaulted Maximoff in Greece.
“First of all—” Jane raises a pointer finger “—men are not less masculine for having anything in their ass—” “But it makes them gay,” Tony cuts her off with a smirk. Jane steeples her hands. “No, it doesn’t. You see, every man has a prostate gland, and prostate stimulation is not an indication of sexual orientation. It feels immensely good to some, and you can enjoy this very much and prefer any gender.” “There we go,” Farrow says quietly.
Jane stews. “I feel sorry for you, that you can’t see how insecure you are and how secure he is. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.” I hit the jackpot with this girl, and holy hell, I’m smiling.
Tony slides down, and he takes one step towards the front door—and I cold-cock him. Fist to jaw, and the blow is lights out. He thumps to the floorboards. Unconscious.
“No fucking way.” Easton leans forward, elbows on the table. He’s a lanky, pale, dark-haired sixteen-year-old—no kidding, he looks like a vampire. Thing is, I bet he gets more sun and Vitamin C than Xander.
I’d give my left testicle for a cigarette, or at least a toothpick that I’m not allowed to grind on. ‘Cause I’m Thatcher Alessio Moretti. He already fucked up, and now I’m gonna be known as the guy who stuffs lunchmeat in his jacket.
Lmao
“I suck at this.” His eyes darken. “Like literally, suck.” My lip curves up. “You’re doing fine, kid.” He exhales a heavy breath. “Sometimes I think it’s better for everyone if I just stayed in my room and never came out.” “It’d be worse,” I remind him. “Everyone would be sad.”
“Later…or whatever.” He sucks in a tight breath. Easton stuffs his hands in his preppy khakis. “If you ever want to play again, just text me. I’m free a lot, so…” “Yeah. Okay. Cool.” Xander nods. Easton nods. “Cool.” I suppress a smile and adjust my earpiece. Not interfering, but man, I feel like a proud Mother Goose who sent her little chickadee out into the world.
There’s never been a woman so good for my brother, and I’d like to think he’s good for her too.
And now that quirky, cat-obsessed Jane is my twin brother’s girlfriend—I instinctively will always look out for her like she’s my flesh and blood.
Connor nods, then zeroes in on me. My arms are crossed, shoulders squared and features stoic. I’m Thatcher Moretti, bitch. I’m a fucking dumbass—because I almost, almost crack a smile at my idiotic thought.
Lmao
More breath fills my lungs, and I continue on with a rising smile, “As you all know, there are some things that the four of us experience that none of you do.” Bodyguards shift, realization striking some. “This meeting is about menstruation,” I announce. Silence. Dead. Utter. Silence.
Lmao
Joana threads her arms. “Menstruation is a period.” “Shark week,” Sulli adds, drawing a grin from all the girls, and she whispers to us, “It’s what my sister and I call it.” Oscar bows forward on the couch. “We know what menstruation is, Jo.” She nods to her twenty-one-year-old brother. “Quinn looked confused.”
Lmao
Quinn scratches his unshaven jaw. “Shouldn’t you have planned for that?” We’ve discovered the source of his confusion, ladies and gentlemen. “Like we all planned to be stuck in this house?” Joana says, hurt in her voice. “Like I planned to miss my fight in London?” Quinn grimaces. “Sorry, Jo.” His apology to his little sister sounds sincere.
Lmao
Tony is the loudest, most obnoxious man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. At least it feels this way stuck here with him. I’m sure once I return to strangers heckling me in Philly, I’ll feel differently.
Lmao
Thatcher glowers at Tony. “Cut her off one more time, and—” “And what?” He chuckles. “You’re gonna hit me again, Banks? Let’s do it. Right now—” “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Farrow glares. Tony smiles more. “You think you’re such hot shit, Farrow, why don’t you go outside with me then? I’ll show you and Moretti who’s the better fighter.” Farrow raises his brows. “You were literally knocked out unconscious seven days ago.” “It won’t happen twice.” Joana steps forward. “How about I kick your ass instead?” Beckett has been sullen all day, but I catch my brother beginning to smile.
Lmao
Luna pulls the ties of her Thrasher hoodie—and the hood squeezes around her face, only her nose poking out. “We just need you to conserve the toilet paper.” “One fucking square when you shit,” Sulli adds crudely. Akara breaks into a smile, but it fades when Will jokes with Sulli, “Just one square?”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to snowshoe?” Donnelly wonders with a frown. “Positive,” Luna nods. “Don’t sacrifice your life for a tampon.” “More like your comfort, you know?” Donnelly shrugs.
Aw
Just as I shut the door, Luna waddles past me, dressed in so many layers of clothing that her oversized galactic sweatshirt looks like a crop top. She throws up a Spock sign. “Beware of the frostbite.”
Dear Diary, he looks tragically confused. I inhale. “If you need me to shut up—” “Never,” he says deeply, and I’m glad he cut me off there. “Never stop talking, Jane.” He’s my everything and more.
It’s scared me to know that my purpose in life is just love.” I wipe a hot, escaped tear. “Love.” I repeat the cofounding word. “When this is all said and done, where am I supposed to end up? Married? With children? Giving love to you and them?” “We don’t have to get married, Jane,” Thatcher says suddenly, seriously—staring down at me while I look right up at him. “I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.” My heart thumps strangely. “You wouldn’t want to be married one day?” His jaw tics. “I would want that, but if the choice were marriage or you, I’d rather just be with you.”
“I don’t need a career to be a smart woman.” I go on. “I don’t need a job to be talented. I am both smart and possess talent, and the love that I give is just as important as the fashion empire my mom built. I am enough just as I am.”
Farrow immediately stops moving. He swings his head to me, breathing hard like he’s…well he is having sex, so… “Shit,” he curses. He is very quick to toss a pillow at Moffy, blocking my cousin’s view of me, and then he whips up the green sheets. Covering themselves.
LmAo
My panic begins to recede. I think of the time I saw Donnelly giving Luna head, and I wince. “I can’t believe this is happening again.” “Again?” Farrow repeats, coming up beside me to check the door.
Lmao
“You looked very comfortable,” I note. “And very pleased by what Farrow was doing, which is to say that you must really trust him…” I’m on fire. Maximoff smiles a little bit.
Lmaoooo
“It’s okay, Janie.” He licks his lips, then gestures to his head. “I’m just processing…it’s a lot.” “I know.” I wince. “And Thatcher and I will absolutely let you two walk in on us to even the playing field.” “Jane,” Thatcher says strongly on the other side of the door. He’s not thrilled at that idea. I waft my sweater. “I’ll pass on that,” Farrow says easily.
Lmao
“Don’t break it. I think there’s a toolkit in the laundry room.” “I’ll be right back.” He pauses. “Jane?” “Yes?” “You’ll be okay?” He must know the ditch I’ve dug, and I’d want him to stay but I want to be in his arms more. “Oui.”
“Did the guy hurt her? Is she okay?” He’s already storming towards the door. I’m suddenly very thankful we’re locked in this room. Farrow sprints in front and blocks him, a hand to his chest. “Wolf scout, let’s hear Jane out before we go on a fictional manhunt.” He glares. “If someone hurt my little sister, it’s not going to be a fucking fictional manhunt. I’m going to kill him with a switchblade laced in arsenic.”
Maximoff tries to relax, his hand sliding back in Farrow’s hand. “Who was it? What’d they do?” His tone is sharp, so it sounds like he’s asking for a culprit and a motive. I take one breath. And I say just it. “I walked in on Paul Donnelly giving Luna great head—the great was her assessment, though from my vantage it did look very pleasing…” I trail off, so sweltering hot that I can barely think straight. Farrow’s jaw has dropped. Shock slowly washes over his face, and he swings his head to me. “Donnelly?” “Yes.”
Lol omg
Maximoff lets go of his hand, just to set his palms on his head. Like he’s winded and attempting to catch his breath. He spins to Farrow. “You told me not to worry about him.”
Lol wait why
“Are you sure it was Donnelly?” “Positive.” “You’re sure it was consensual?” “Yes. No doubt.” Farrow leans casually on the antique dresser. “Shit, how much did you see?” “Far too much.”
Farrow catches his arm. “Where are you going?” “To have a tea party with a bodyguard, who apparently decided to play Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy with my sister.” I whisper to the door. “Thatcher?” “Yeah?” “Work slowly.” “Copy that.” He understands that it’s better if Maximoff does not confront Donnelly right now.
Farrow tells him. “You’re not going anywhere, so just relax, relax.” He cups his jaw. His eyes are reddened. “I’m totally relaxed.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “More relaxed than you.” “Keep trying because you’re not even close yet.” “Yeah?” He holds onto Farrow’s waist. “I feel pretty goddamn Zen.”
Maximoff crouches, forearms on his knees. His adrenaline must be pumping. He looks up at me. “He’s eight years older than her, Janie.” “I know,” I say softly. “But Aunt Daisy and Uncle Ryke have a seven-year age difference. It’s not so different.”
“Also to note,” I say aloud. “Media has been speculating that she’s with Quinn.” They’ve paired all of SFO with their clients. “So it’s not as though they’ll shit on her for dating a bodyguard.” “Quinn is around her age,” Maximoff rebuts. “Donnelly isn’t.” Farrow says, “Luna is strong as hell.”
“A one-time thing, yes.” I nod. “At least, that’s what they said.” Farrow makes a face like he’s slightly disbelieving. I don’t buy it either, but that’s only because Thatcher divulged to me what he witnessed on the dance floor at the pub. Lots of pelvic grinding.
Lmao
“To be on the safe side,” Farrow says. “I’m going to let Donnelly know Luna’s not on birth control—or we should tell Luna to tell him. In case they are still having sex.” Maximoff’s face turns to fire again. “I’m going to ki—lightly murder him. No arsenic.” “Still murder, wolf scout.”
“So here’s what’s going to happen.” I wipe the rest of my tears from my cheeks. No return, no going back. “If you don’t promise me here, today, that you’re going to stop using, then I’m moving to New York. I’m going to live in an apartment on the same hall, and every day that you snort coke, I’m going to do the same.” His eyes flash hot. “Jane—” “If you’re going to destroy your life, your body, then I’m going to destroy mine.” I add in French, “Ton destin est mon destin.” Your fate is my fate. Charlie steps forward. “Ton destin est mon destin.” “You’re insane.” He rubs away his tear tracks
...more
“You’re really going to let Jane snort cocaine?” I don’t answer. My pulse is in my ears. Ever since my PTSD crept outside of a nightmare, I worry I might meet it again. Not today, I pray. “Seriously?” Beckett shakes his head. “What kind of boyfriend are you?” “One who knows how important this is,” I say with severity. “You’re the only one in this room who can stop her.”
His face contorts. “No. I’m getting Moffy.” He heads to the door. I side-step to block his exit, and I stare down at him. “Maximoff already knows.” His eyes darken. “There’s no way.” Jane sinks down to her knees in front of the table. “Well, technically Moffy thinks you’d never let me do this.” Maximoff believes in him.
Charlie went a darker route when we planned this, and he said, “We might need to call in Moffy to join us.” “No,” Farrow and Jane said. But the reality is that Maximoff is sober. He has the family history of addiction, and Charlie thinks that forcing Maximoff to use drugs could push Beckett to quit more than them. Maximoff agreed. He’s waiting in the hall.
Jane frowns, then asks Charlie, “So how do I do this?” Beckett is turned towards me. Only me. And when he hears that, his face begins to crack, a fissure running through his features. Charlie instructs, “Press your finger to one nostril—” “Stop,” Beckett says in a whisper that I can only hear. Charlie keeps talking, and I nod Beckett towards his siblings. “No.” He battles emotion. “You have to stop her. If my parents hear that you let her do this, they’ll never accept you.
All I’ve wanted is for her family to fully accept me. Beckett knows that, and I realize what has to be done. I click my mic on my collar. “Banks to Farrow, barricade the door. Don’t let Beckett out.” “Done,” Farrow responds.
I lower next to Jane on the floor. “Make me a line,” I tell Charlie. He frowns for a millisecond before smiling. I finally look to Jane. Her lips are parted, eyes wide. “Thatcher?” “We do this together,” I say. “You and me.” Tears gather in her eyes. I brush them away. “People do stupid things when they’re in love,” Charlie says, but it’s not in disdain.
Ahhh im crying
