Thankfully, he slowly, agonizingly, brings the bottle down to hang by his side. His eyes blaze, the gold flecks turning to fire as he stares at Mr. Volli’s retreating back.
After a moment, Parrish sits down on the edge of the bed, and the bottle slips from his fingertips. It hits the stone ground but doesn’t break, rolling away and out of view of the camera. His expression is far away and distant, a twisted, sad, broken thing.
He looks up at the camera again, like he’s considering whether or not we can still see him. He must know that we saw some of that, at least. There was no point to showing him the video unless we were aware of him watching it.
Parrish says something in Korean and then makes a peace sign with his fingers. Chasm chokes beside me, and even Maxx frowns hard. Does he understand Korean, too? Oh my god, can you imagine? The ultimate bromance. The thought of all three of them conversing in Chasm’s native language pushes back at some of the dark feelings inside of me.
The call cuts out, and a text message follows swiftly along behind it.
I do not lie, princess. I have told you that. I am also a generous and loving man. You’ve done well allowing yourself the things you deserve. Kwang-seon, as well. I’ve arranged for luxury food and drink to be brought to the boy’s room thrice daily, just for you, to show my appreciation with your dedication to your schoolwork.
If your end of the year grades are good, I’ll treat you to something nice.
I hope you’re excited for tomorrow.
“Excited for tomorrow?” Maxx says aloud, his voice strained and wary. “Excited about what?”
I’m still in shock, and there’s no energy left in me to answer. I feel emotionally drained. And sick to my stomach. And so in love that I forget for a moment what it was like before, before I was forced to come here, before I met Parrish and Chasm and Maxx.
“He isn’t dead … right?” I ask, thinking about the feed, hoping and wishing and praying that we’re right about this.
“I don’t know,” X offers up while Chasm stares straight ahead like he’s in another world altogether. I glance at him before turning back to X. He looks down at me with a gentle frown on his face, and I can see that he’s keeping himself together for the two of us. “I’d like to think so. It sure seems that way.”
“What did Parrish say at the end?” I ask, looking back at Chas. But he doesn’t seem to have heard me. X reaches out, hooking a strong finger on my chin and turning me to look at him. His eyes are dark with unspoken emotions, but I feel like there’s something else there, too, something that neither of us cares to admit to.
Attraction. Interest. A mutual like for one another.
He can’t have just watched me make love to Chasm and not felt anything at all. What it is, exactly, that he’s feeling, I’m not sure.
“He said …” X pauses a minute and then rubs at his forehead. “Something like ‘only you could steal her out from under me; take care of this one for me’.” He pauses abruptly, looking away.
“Take care of this one for me, asshole,” Chasm corrects, his face falling as he drops his head into his hands and then lets out a violent sounding snarl. He shoves up from the bed, pacing the floor and yanking at clumps of his hair in frustration. “Take care of this one for me … asshole,” he breathes. “Or at least, the Korean equivalent to an insult like that.”
We all pause as a car’s headlights sweep across my window. Chas moves over to check on it, peering out at the yard before moving over to grab the heavy drapes. He drags them closed before turning around to face me and Maxx again.
We’re still sitting pressed together in the corner of the bed, and I find myself hyperaware of his skin touching mine. I hate that he had to see that, that he had to watch Parrish’s reaction to it. In fact, there isn’t much about this moment that I don’t despise.
“I can’t wait,” Chasm says suddenly, taking off for the door and wrenching it open.
Maxx and I exchange a look before scrambling off the bed to follow.
The three of us nearly end in a traffic jam when we come down the stairs to find Tess and Paul dragging their tired bodies through the door.
“Is it him?” I choke out, Chas in front of me, X just behind.
Chasm seems paralyzed, standing on the bottom step of the curving staircase with his fingers clenched around the metal railing. I’m two steps above him, peering over while Maxx does the same. The tension in the air is thick, cloying, stretched so taut that it threatens to snap and sink us all.
