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She grins like a little psycho because he’s finally looking at her for the first time. “He bought me a bucket of candy floss and told me to share it with my sister.”
“My point, ladies and gents.” Remi makes a motion of a mic drop.
“Adults eat candy floss,” Cecily says.
“Stop putting ludicrous ideas in her head and inflating an ego that would burst to smithereens the moment she talks to Eli.” Lan appears to be bored. “He’s my cousin, but he’s an emotionless prick who collects little girls' broken hearts in a jar and then sacrifices them to his demons. Don’t be a heart in a jar, Ava.”
My mood takesa sharp dive for the worse for the rest of the party. I say hi to Aunt Elsa and Uncle Aiden, then leave before I spot or run into Eli.
I know he’s here. I can feel him in the air.
One thing about Eli is that he can make himself invisible if he chooses to. But usually, that doesn’t work on me. I’ve always been aware of him and the unbearable hold he has on me.
I intended to confess to him with a letter that I carefully wrote a month ago and have since learned by heart. I hid it in my Chanel bag for safekeeping, but now that I’ve heard what the guys said—even Bran and Creigh, who said in no uncertain terms that it’s not a good idea to confess—I feel like burning it.
With its dainty paper, metallic writing, and glitter hearts. All pink.
I’m being naive. I’m a little girl who’s not allowed to exist in his godly vicinity.
Maybe if I wait a couple more years, I’ll have a better chance…
My thoughts trail off when I catch a glimpse of him standing by the pool with Mama’s assistant for one of the charities. Kylie is a leggy brunette with tanned olive skin, bright-brown eyes, and a very mature figure and face.
Her hand is on his arm as he listens to her with his usual poker face.
Doesn’t matter what type of expression he wears. Eli has and always will be a god with sharp features, a jaw that could cut my heart in half, and eyes that enchant anyone who stares at them.
He's wearing dark-gray slacks, Italian loafers, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His hair is buzz cut on the sides, and the middle is thrown back in a beautiful chaos I itch to run my fingers through.
Just once.
But he never lets me get close, let alone allows me the chance to touch him.
While I can’t pinpoint when exactly I started to like him this strongly, I know that I always felt a sense of intimidation when we were growing up. Mostly because he played rough and didn’t hesitate to pull on my hair or step on my princess lace dresses or dirty my sparkly shoes.
It wasn’t until I hit puberty that the dread turned into a heating of my cheeks whenever he was around.
My real infatuation with Eli started when I saw him play polo when I was around twelve. He looked absolutely majestic on top of the horse. Regal, handsome, and so attractive.
And then he saved me from a wayward ball and I kind of fell head over heels. I yearned to get close so he’d grant me access to his true self and what hid behind his winter-day eyes.
I wanted to be his exception.
But I was mostly invisible to him.
Even though I’ve been using my special relationship with Aunt Elsa to visit whenever possible, it’s pointless since he moved to a boarding uni with Lan, Bran, and Remi.
He's allowing Kylie to touch him now, her coffin nails tracing a line on his forearm as she bats her lashes and probably speaks in that breathy tone that should be reserved for sexy times.
Maybe that’s what they’ll do later.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about that.
I chase away the image of him embracing, kissing, and fucking her out of my head. Like I’ve done a thousand times before.
It’s not our fault that we’re six years apart or that he hit puberty when I was arguing with Cecy about cartoons. In fact, it would’ve been entirely weird if he’d taken a liking to me when I was a kid.
