he’s constantly consumed by Lily,
always taking care of her, that he has no room to do so for another girl, not
even one he sees as a little sister.
So while Lo believes he’s protecting Daisy from his
half-brother, he’s really creating a barrier between Daisy and the only person
here who’ll look out for her first rather than last.
And yet, I can’t say a word about it. I have to let these
things play naturally. My interference won’t do any good. My words wouldn’t
resonate with Lo the way I’d want them to. So I stay silent on the matter.
“I’ll fucking room with Scott,” Ryke says, speaking loudly so we can hear him from the hallway. “Daisy can take my
room. Or I’ll stay down here and switch with her. I don’t give a shit. None of
the girls should be around this.”
“And what if she hears Lily and me fucking through the
walls? There’s a reason she’s on the lowest level.”
Ryke says nothing, but I can
practically feel him fume from far away. Lo looks over his shoulder at me,
asking with hard eyes whether he’s right or wrong.
“You can’t censor a girl who’s nearly seventeen, especially
not a high fashion model,” I tell him, my words not harsh like his or rough
like his brother’s. I’m one-hundred percent even-tempered, calm. At ease. It
gets him off the defensive. “She’s heard and seen everything you have, if not
more. I’ll call someone to look at the crawl space, but until it happens, Rose
would want her sister somewhere clean.”
After a minute digesting my words, Lo sighs and lets go of
the argument. “ Ryke , you’ll room with Scott?”
“I said I would.”
“Fine. More eyes on that prick, the better, right?”
Ryke says something in
affirmation, but I can’t quite hear. He thumps around too much. “Fucking A,” he
curses, his voice much louder. He tries to pull his body out of the tiny space.
Lo grabs Ryke underneath his arm
as he squeezes through the door.
When he’s on his feet, he holds up the trap with the dead rat,
the tail mangled like it dragged the weight from its backend.
“Have we found you a new profession?” I ask, my lips rising.
“At least I can get my hands dirty, princess.” He waves the
trap (and dangling rat) at my face.
I don’t even flinch.
Ryke rolls his eyes and goes to
toss it into the garbage bag.
“Wait,” Lo calls. “Maybe we can do something with this
thing.”
“No,” Ryke and I say together. I
contain my grimace. Even though Ryke may be one of
the smarter people living in the apartment, I don’t enjoy agreeing with him.
It’s like siding with a guard dog instead of a human.
“You didn’t even let me finish,” Loren says angrily.
“You want to use it against Scott,” I reply.
“He’s the fucking producer,” Ryke reminds him. “You start a war with Scott and he could turn you into a psycho on
the show. Just fucking relax.”
“He made Lily bawl!” Lo yells. “I’m not going to sit here
for six months and ignore all the shit he says. This is different than social
media and gossip blogs. We’re living with this bastard.”
Footsteps sound on the staircase, and all of us go
suspiciously quiet. When the body rounds the corner, Brett emerges, breathing
heavily with the steadicam attached to his chest, and
he only sprinted down one flight of stairs.
“Scott wants…you all in the living room…for the lap dance,”
he pants.
Scott Van Wright is dictating everything. When. How. Where.
I fucking hate him.
Lo looks to me, waiting for me to nod in approval of his
methods to fuck with Scott.
I may hate Scott, but I’m not to that point yet. I won’t do
something malicious or cruel that’ll have him checking into a psychiatric
hospital, mentally torn to shreds.
I fight my battles much differently than Loren Hale. And
while it may not be as quick or effective—I have to trust that I have the power
to keep my friends from falling tragically apart.
[ 9 ]
CONNOR COBALT
When
always taking care of her, that he has no room to do so for another girl, not
even one he sees as a little sister.
So while Lo believes he’s protecting Daisy from his
half-brother, he’s really creating a barrier between Daisy and the only person
here who’ll look out for her first rather than last.
And yet, I can’t say a word about it. I have to let these
things play naturally. My interference won’t do any good. My words wouldn’t
resonate with Lo the way I’d want them to. So I stay silent on the matter.
“I’ll fucking room with Scott,” Ryke says, speaking loudly so we can hear him from the hallway. “Daisy can take my
room. Or I’ll stay down here and switch with her. I don’t give a shit. None of
the girls should be around this.”
“And what if she hears Lily and me fucking through the
walls? There’s a reason she’s on the lowest level.”
Ryke says nothing, but I can
practically feel him fume from far away. Lo looks over his shoulder at me,
asking with hard eyes whether he’s right or wrong.
“You can’t censor a girl who’s nearly seventeen, especially
not a high fashion model,” I tell him, my words not harsh like his or rough
like his brother’s. I’m one-hundred percent even-tempered, calm. At ease. It
gets him off the defensive. “She’s heard and seen everything you have, if not
more. I’ll call someone to look at the crawl space, but until it happens, Rose
would want her sister somewhere clean.”
After a minute digesting my words, Lo sighs and lets go of
the argument. “ Ryke , you’ll room with Scott?”
“I said I would.”
“Fine. More eyes on that prick, the better, right?”
Ryke says something in
affirmation, but I can’t quite hear. He thumps around too much. “Fucking A,” he
curses, his voice much louder. He tries to pull his body out of the tiny space.
Lo grabs Ryke underneath his arm
as he squeezes through the door.
When he’s on his feet, he holds up the trap with the dead rat,
the tail mangled like it dragged the weight from its backend.
“Have we found you a new profession?” I ask, my lips rising.
“At least I can get my hands dirty, princess.” He waves the
trap (and dangling rat) at my face.
I don’t even flinch.
Ryke rolls his eyes and goes to
toss it into the garbage bag.
“Wait,” Lo calls. “Maybe we can do something with this
thing.”
“No,” Ryke and I say together. I
contain my grimace. Even though Ryke may be one of
the smarter people living in the apartment, I don’t enjoy agreeing with him.
It’s like siding with a guard dog instead of a human.
“You didn’t even let me finish,” Loren says angrily.
“You want to use it against Scott,” I reply.
“He’s the fucking producer,” Ryke reminds him. “You start a war with Scott and he could turn you into a psycho on
the show. Just fucking relax.”
“He made Lily bawl!” Lo yells. “I’m not going to sit here
for six months and ignore all the shit he says. This is different than social
media and gossip blogs. We’re living with this bastard.”
Footsteps sound on the staircase, and all of us go
suspiciously quiet. When the body rounds the corner, Brett emerges, breathing
heavily with the steadicam attached to his chest, and
he only sprinted down one flight of stairs.
“Scott wants…you all in the living room…for the lap dance,”
he pants.
Scott Van Wright is dictating everything. When. How. Where.
I fucking hate him.
Lo looks to me, waiting for me to nod in approval of his
methods to fuck with Scott.
I may hate Scott, but I’m not to that point yet. I won’t do
something malicious or cruel that’ll have him checking into a psychiatric
hospital, mentally torn to shreds.
I fight my battles much differently than Loren Hale. And
while it may not be as quick or effective—I have to trust that I have the power
to keep my friends from falling tragically apart.
[ 9 ]
CONNOR COBALT
When
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