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“Because that was my sister’s party and she’d be pissed if I didn’t help you.”
“Bailey? Or the other one?”
“Andi. And yes, Bailey is my sister.”
She shivers in the cool air of the AC, so without taking my eyes off the road, I pull an old flannel from the back seat of the truck and hand it to her.
“It’s not much, but it’s warm.”
“Clean?”
“Probably not.”
She seems to contemplate it for a moment but ends up slipping it on anyway.
“Thank you. I’m Hannah, by the way.”
“Mason.”
“Well, thank you for giving me a ride Mason. I’m sure you didn’t want to leave the party.”
I chuckle and I can feel her watching me.
“How do you know my sister?”
“I don’t.”
“So, why are you at her party?”
“My boyfriend— God,ex-boyfriend— is Drew’s cousin.”
Fucking Drew Marshall. I can’t stand the kid, but Bailey loves him, so I tolerate him, for her sake.
For now.
Lately, he’s been a little too controlling, from what Mila reports. Mila’s the youngest of us and the most awkward, but she listens and she’s good at keeping an eye on things when others think she isn’t paying attention.
I had planned to talk to Bailey about Drew’s controlling nature tonight, but that was before I realized Mom invited all of Los Angeles.
“The Marshall's are all rich kids who couldn’t hold their own in a thumb war.”
She laughs, a real laugh, and even in that moment, I don’t think I quite understood the role that laugh would play in the rest of my life.
“Isn’t he a little old for you, anyway?”
She rolls her eyes like a petulant teen. “I’m twenty. He’s only twenty-six.”
Shit. My age.
I guess a couple years really does make a difference. Where she’s still naïve to the world’s dark side, I’ve lived it. Though, from the looks of the expensive dress covered up in my old flannel, the sorority at the biggest college in LA, and the personalinvite to a Monica Parker party, I’d say she hasn’t had to live through much.
“A lot can change in a couple years.”
“Maybe I just like older guys.”
I glance at her and she’s watching me. For a moment, I forget she’s some random soaking wet twenty-year-old college kid and not a fucking siren here to drag me to the bottom of the ocean.
Then I remember. College. Twenty years old. I’m twenty-eight. I’ve got a business. A house. All of which I got because Dad died, but still. I’ve got responsibilities that don’t interest someone so young. Or of her class.
