Page 101 of My Dark Prince
Zach Sun:For the last time, Oliver, there is no market for taco glue.
Ollie vB:THERE SHOULD BE. Those things fall apart faster than Dallas’s self-control at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Zach Sun:Don’t order crunchy tacos, then.
Ollie vB:I don’t like soft tacos. They’re soggy. Makes me feel like I’m chewing on a wet kitchen towel.
Romeo Costa:Glue is not the answer.
Zach Sun:Unless the question is: what can you get high on if you’re a broke high school junior?
Ollie vB:My bet. My rules. You’re going to invest in this start up if I win.
Romeo Costa:Sure. But you won’t win.
Ollie vB:Get your pockets ready, gentlemen.
Zach Sun:Famous last words.
Chapter Forty-Five
Oliver
Briar’s snore burst through the still air like the boom of a gong.
If our earlier incident in the shower affected her in any way, she gave no indication. In fact, she’d fallen asleep in less than a minute, dozing off the second her skull hit the pillow.
And where the hell didthatcome from?
I’d expected a fight after our showdown at Baylor. Both of us had practically hummed with pent-up frustration, which I leashed by telling myself that she’d leave soon.
Everything would return to its fucked-up, utterly depressing, mind-numbing place. I would go back to my happy-free life. She would return to her job in LA.
No promises would be broken. No drastic lies exchanged. And absolutely no touching.
What Ihadn’texpected was to almost die of blue balls because the hottest woman I’d ever met decided to perform Cirque du Soleil naked in front of me.
I stretched my hearing as far as it would go, seeking signs of life from the south wing, knowing I couldn’t logically catch anything from here. Even with my ears pressed to his bedroom door, I’d never hear my brother.
Sebastian liked to remain utterly silent just to torture me.
He knew I read too deep into every sign of life, assigning hope where it didn’t belong.
The hours ticked by in silence, save for the occasional snore from Briar.
Like every night since I’d destroyed the von Bismarck family, I fought sleep. This had become my ritual since the first night, when I discovered that my mistake replayed in my nightmares the second I closed my eyes.
Fifteen years had passed, and still, I knew with utter certainty what awaited me on the other side of my eyelids. The splash of water. The engine’s roars. The frightening silence. And the blood. So much blood.
I’d tried therapy, drugs, acupuncture, hypnosis. Red light, meditation, exercising myself to exhaustion. Nothing worked. It would come, as it always did, and I’d fight it until I no longer could. And then, the next day, the persistent bastard would return for the same reason.
Nightmares are the mind’s way of reminding you where it hurts.
With the sheets bunched around my waist, I tossed and turned, counted sheep, recalled every moment before my brutal mistake, and gave up. The sound machine beaconed me. I flicked on the white noise, setting the timer to shut off an hour and a half before I knew Briar would wake.
The hisses and shushes lulled me to sleep, inviting me to the same nightmare.
Chapter Forty-Six
