Page 47 of House of Bass

Yes, ever since he came over declaring that he is going to get me back after revealing years of secrets, I have been avoiding him. It is too much at once and I need time to process it.

“Negative. My mind has been consumed with more pressing matters,” I counter, edging toward a different aisle. He follows, silently, as my eyes pretend to concentrate on a book I no longer had the intention to read.

“I’d believe that,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “if I haven’t had your tongue down my throat.”

I whip my head around, horrified that anyone nearby might have heard, and hiss, “Can you keep your fucking voice down?”

I know what he is doing, playing cocky to pretend he hadn’t bared out his soul. Now he is trying to avoid getting hurt, thinly afraid of rejection. So, his plan is clearly to appeal to my lustful side. Even as I move away from him, I feel the familiar, maddening tension between us. My composure, once again, is paramount to keep a hold of, but I suspect it is on its way to tatters.

“That is not what you were saying when it was happening.”

“Stop it. You seduced me,” I protest, though my voice betrays far more than I intended.

“Now it’s my fault, is it?” he laughs, humour dancing in his tone.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Then you made it worse with your big profound revelation to make me confused and lose practical thinking. Everything we said that night, I’ve thought about it and we can’t do this, Richard. We’d be hurting someone very dear to us, and I can’t do that to her.”

We reach the aisle furthest from prying eyes. He brushes my hair aside, his hand lingering against my cheek, and I can’t help leaning into the touch despite my better judgment. Like his hands were made to feel me.

“And as I told you. I’m going to get you back,” he murmurs, each word deliberate and measured, the prelude to the inevitable. Then, without warning, he leans in and kisses me again.

Instantly, I am lost to the sensation: the feel of his fingers entwining in my ponytail, the way our mouths meld together with a ferocity that leaves me gasping. I try to stifle every sound, yet when our tongues meld fully, a groan escapes us both, deep and involuntary. He moves us further into a corner from where we were standing to keep us hidden. His free hand goes under my shirt and kneads my breast over the bra. God.

Sudden, loud chatter makes me flinch, and I jump back from him, chastising myself for becoming so thoroughly comfortable.

“Oh my God, stop kissing me!” I exclaim, darting away, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible. I bury my face in my hands, and attempt to smooth down the wrinkles in my clothes brought on by our indiscretions.

And then I see her. Harley. Walking toward me, still looking hopelessly out of place with her boots, piercings, and what I can only describe as an excess of jewellery, something she has flatly refused to relinquish despite my polite protests. But her utter indifference to what others thought makes it work.

She doesn’t notice me at first, so I jog lightly toward her, ignoring the persistent shadow of Arden behind me. I link arms with her instinctively, and she immediately goes on the defensive, whipping her head toward me as though ready to bite.

When she finally realises it is me who hijacked her, her expression softens slightly, though I was sure she’d have my head for touching her without asking. Clear signs of progress in our relationship.

“What are you doing?” she asks, barely paying Arden, who is trailing behind, any mind.

“Taking you with me to get lunch, so you can get a proper introduction to everyone where no alcohol is involved. Please, we’re finally all in one place,” I plead.

Daniel spent time at UAL because his course, Fashion Design Technology, is a shared programme between the two universities. Daniel is also a master’s student but part time because he is secretly building his own brand without telling his mother, who is still pressuring him to join hers. As a result, his one year course had become two.

Meanwhile, MJ is doing a two day placement every week for her creative writing course at her family’s publishing house, which is part of why her brothers are in the city. She had initially gotten one at Penguin but they found out. Bash had taken over the London office, mostly as a promotion but also to keep an eye on MJ. The others followed because they move like triplets, they are born year after year of one another. Bash is twenty-eight, Nate is twenty-seven and Gabe is twenty-six.

Next comes Devon, who is too busy with Swan Lake and one-on-one’s with Gigi, who also received a very kind reminder from above that the Showcase counts towards my final grade so she can’t not let me back on. We are too busy to spend time with one another during the day.

Harley’s eyes flick toward Richard, who has his hands in his pockets, watching us both. “Thorne.”

“Banjo,” he says.

That is all they give one another, which confuses me because after the incident at the bar they gave me the impression that they know one another more than they let on, but judging by that exchange, perhaps not.

She looks back to me, “I’d rather not but thanks.” She starts to pull her hands from mine but I keep it there firmly in place.

“Pleasepleaseplease, you promised to try.” I give her puppy dog eyes and pout but her face scrunches up in response. Which had me thinking she'll object once again but she mutters, “Fine. I’ll come.” A squeal leaves me and the joy radiating from me inescapable.

“Our conversation isn’t done, Saint.” Arden pitches in from behind.

“If we pretend he’s not here, maybe he’ll go away,” I murmur as we head toward the canteen.

“In your dreams,” he replies before I even finish speaking. I can hear the smirk in his voice without needing to look back.