Page 94 of Bite Me

“You don’t hate him?”

He shrugs. “I hate that I can’t beat that fucker in anything.”

He raises his voice, motioning in Dacre’s direction.

“Once I beat him, I will hate him. Until then, I’m unfortunately forced to respect him.”

Sadly, today isn’t the day that happens for either of us.

Verity and Dacre sweep the competition. When I taste their dish, I almost cry. It’s so delicious. We all accept our punishment of serving dinner to Dacre’s family investors and then cleaning up after.

Luther throws dishes into the sink for me and a few others to scrub, and I barely inch out of his way.

I’m ready for the weekend to be over so I can return to the solitude of my own room, blast music, and eat cookies. That’s the only thing that would make me feel better at this point. As much as I love seeing the ocean, I miss the comforting gloom of Doxlothia this time of year.

“We’re having a party in my room tonight. You should come.” Luther leans over the sink on my left.

“The last time you invited me to one of your parties, I was the entertainment.”

“That was different. You’re one of us now.”

My only other option is sitting in a room with Dacre all night, and he’s the last person I want to talk to.

“What if I told you it would piss Dacre off?” Luther adds.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not inviting him.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“He seems to have a little fascination with you. Don’t you want the opportunity to get under his skin just a little bit?”

He just wants an opportunity to get back at Dacre any way he can for winning today.

I smile, wiping my hands. “Finish my dishes, and I’ll go.”

I know my worth in such an endeavor.

Luther’s eyes narrow. “Deal.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Emma

I’m not sober, but I’m increasingly aware that I’m sitting on Luther’s bed. Which doesn’t have any of the delectable qualities that Dacre and I’s bed does. For a man only spending the weekend here, he’s sure made himself at home.

There are clothes thrown on top of the wardrobe. Snack wrappers and empty cans litter the end table and armoire before he decided to host the culinary club in his room. The party has spilled out into a few adjoining rooms, including Verity’s, which is next door.

“So, where is your room, Em?” Luther leans in next to me, and I’m crushed between him and another girl who’s busy with her boyfriend on the phone.

I shrink away from his alcohol breath and the volume of his voice in my ear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I smile, savoring another sip of my drink. Verity made the girls Dirty Shirleys.

“I very much would.”

“And why would that be?”