“Please don’t,” he breathes, letting that cocky smile take over his entire face. “Speaking of swimming, I really can’t.” He pauses again and looks up and to the left, like he’s thinking hard about something. Frankly, the comfortable, easy cadence of his voice is annoying the fuck out of me. “You’ve already made Tess cry and insulted my best friend. The last thing you need on your record is a drowning.”
Chasm releases me, and my body goes cold as he steps away, the spots where he held my wrists tingling strangely. That does it for me, unleashing my irritation in a choleric jibe that whips off the end of my tongue.
“Here’s the thing: you do have the right hair and makeup”—here I pause to trace the edge of my eye to indicate the small amount of black liner he’s wearing—“but you’re still a big, fat zero on my rating scale. I only insulted Parrish because he started it. As far as Tess crying … I haven’t seen it.”
The guy hasn’t answered my question about his identity, but he can only really be Chasm McKenna, Parrish’s bestie and a close friend of the family. Also, I hate him almost as much as I hate Parrish and we met three seconds ago.
This should go well.
He resumes that easy, comfortable slouch as he meets my eyes with his jewel-toned ones. I’ll admit: he’s got a powerful stare. I feel suddenly uncomfortable, like I should shift on my feet and try to sidle away. Instead, I stand my ground and stare right back.
“You’ve got bite, but is it enough?” Chasm shrugs his shoulders like he couldn’t care less either way. Since I have no idea what he’s talking about, I don’t care either. I just want him to go away. “Welcome to Whitehall,” he whispers finally, following up the words with another smile that’s just oozing impertinence.
I say nothing, watching as he turns and heads for the door, and then I pad over to the sauna, open it up, and grab the bucket from inside.
Chasm’s already out the door and in the hallway when I step up behind him, but as soon as he hears me, he turns, and I throw the entire bucket of warm water in his face.
He says nothing, just stares at me with his dark hair bleeding into his face, his soggy dress shirt clinging to the firm planes of his chest. I can’t decide if he’s angry with me … or pleasantly surprised?
And then, of course, he has the audacity to fucking smile at me.
This dickface …
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy Whitehall while I’m here.” I drop the bucket on the marble floor, breeze past him, and head up the stairs to change.
Even if the bathroom here feels like some sort of bleached and sterile space pod, the shower is nice. It’s roomy, and it has a built-in bench seat. Plus, there are over a dozen sprayers and showerheads, and a surround sound system.
I start one of my playlists, taking my time with washing and conditioning my hair as I mouth the lyrics to “DROWN” by AViVA. In that marble box with its glass doors, I feel protected, insulated from reality. It’s like I’m on vacation or something, steeped in luxury that doesn’t belong to me, that I’m just renting for the time being.
I’m not a Banks anymore; I’m a Patterson. I’m not Dakota; I’m Mia.
The thought makes my head spin. It’s been six weeks since I found out. Just six. fucking. weeks. And yet, it hasn’t gotten any easier. I’m not sure it will ever be easy. Then to have to deal with someone as nasty as Kimber? As Parrish?
Add in his horrible friend, Chasm, and I just know I’m going to hate it here.
Even if I try. Even if I keep smiling. Even if I plaster a positive can do! attitude over the top of my melancholy.
With a sigh, I climb out of the shower, wrap my hair in a towel, and slip into the new robe that Tess bought for me. It was hanging in the closet, along with a few other staples. Subtle hints of a dress code my new mother wants me to aspire to.
I’m looking down at the floor, my chin toward my chest, as I fiddle with the towel on my hair. At the sound of a snort, I look up and find that Chasm guy on my bed. I stop short.
“What the hell?” I choke out, noticing Parrish standing near the window, his tattooed fingers pressed into the glass. He glances back at me, his face drawn down into a moue of boredom. He taps his fingers against the window a few times as I flick my gaze from him to Chasm. “What are you doing in my room?” My voice sounds a little edgy, like it’s lined in glass, but my nerves are seriously worn thin here. If I can’t have my privacy, then I have nothing left. Nothing at all.
