“Whatever,” I mutter. “Listen, bro, I gotta get out of here. It’s been real, but I’ll see you Sunday, okay? Text me the exact departure time so I know what’s up.”
“Where’s the fire?” He comes a little closer, an easy smile on his face, but I see the look in his eyes. He doesn’t want to take no for an answer. He doesn’t want me to leave. I don’t get it. Why torture me when I clearly don’t want to be here? “Don’t leave yet. The party’s just getting started.”
I’ve been here for hours. If the party is really just getting started, I’m beyond done. “This type of thing really isn’t my scene anymore,” I tell him. “You know this. When was the last time I partied with you like this?”
“When did you become such a drag?” Mitchell shakes his head and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, extracting one from the pack. “I miss the good old days, man. When we used to drink and fuck around with girls. Get high, get laid, eat, take a downer and crash out. Remember how much fun we used to have?”
I remember how empty my life felt. I remember hating the hangovers the next day. The humiliation when I couldn’t quite recall what happened the night before. Finding a gold necklace in my pocket with an emerald-and-diamond pendant dangling from it one time, so freaked out and worried over who I’d stolen it from. Whether that person saw me, because I couldn’t remember for the life of me what exactly happened and how I became in possession of that necklace.
That was the last night I partied. The last night I let myself get out of control. Never again, I told myself. It’s one thing to be a sly criminal. It’s another thing entirely to be a reckless thief who doesn’t give a shit if he’s caught or not.
That moment taught me a lesson. One I’ll never forget.
“You know why I stopped,” I tell him, my voice low, my gaze intense. “I have my reasons.”
He stares at me and then offers a short nod. “If you’ve gotta go, go. But I think Whitney is looking for you, so you better tell her goodbye. This might be your last chance before we leave London.”
The absolute last thing I want to do. And from the look on my face, Mitchell must have sensed it because he bursts out laughing, not giving a shit about my predicament. “Man up. She’s not that bad.”
“She’s insane. Besides, she knows I’m with someone else and doesn’t give a shit,” I mutter.
“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway? Who is she? The girl you’re with. I’m curious.”
“You don’t know her,” I say quickly, too quickly. Though he probably does know Rose. At the very least he should know Violet and Lily.
“That means I must totally know her. Hmm.” He takes my arm and drags me back into the living room, which is crowded with people. At least the music has lowered, so it’s not so fucking loud. Probably got turned down so as not to disturb the neighbors.
I glance around the room, spotting her in an instant. Whitney is sitting on a couch crowded with other people, bent over a silver tray with white lines of powder on it, and I pull my arm out of Mitchell’s grip.
I don’t want to deal with Whitney now. She’s going to be a nightmare. “I gotta go. Seriously.”
“Whitney! I found him,” Mitchell crows, pointing at me with a jerk of his thumb.
Whitney lifts her head and wipes delicately at her nose, a giant smile on her face. She springs up from the couch and runs over to me, slinging her arms around my neck and slamming her body into mine. She’s wearing a little top and shorts, her ass cheeks practically hanging out, and she tries to give me a smacking kiss on the cheek but I dodge away from her.
She’s high as fuck, zipping along at a million miles a minute and on the verge of being uncontrollable.
“You’re such a party pooper, not letting me kiss you. Don’t you miss my kisses?” She frowns, her arms still around me, her head slung back and her breasts smashed against my chest. Her pupils are huge—I can hardly see the color of her eyes—and her cheeks are flushed. “Come on, Caden. One last time together before you go back to New York. Please?”
I’m assuming Mitchell told her I’m hitching a ride back home with him. “I don’t think so.” I try to disentangle myself from her arms, but she firms her grip. “Come on, Whit. Let me go. Don’t make a scene.”
She pouts and slips one hand down to streak her fingers along my chest. I grab hold of her wrist, stopping her path, and she curls her hand into a fist, giving me a little punch. “Ever since you hooked up with Rose Fowler you’ve become a real dick.”
“Move.” I rest my other hand on her waist, ready to push her out of my way, but she doesn’t so much as budge.
And her next words leave me cold.
“I think they’ve got you figured out, Caden. Violet’s been asking me lots of nosy questions lately, all about you.” She pokes her index finger into my chest, hard. “Maybe they know your secret.”
“Ow.” I rub my chest, unease sweeping over me. No way could they know my secret. Who could tell them? “You didn’t say anything, did you?”
“No, of course not. I’m your friend.” Her indignant tone is almost amusing. “But I can keep my mouth shut for good if you give me another chance. In bed.” She bats her eyelashes at me and giggles.
Jesus. She won’t let up. “It’s not going to happen between us, Whit. Never again. So give it up.” I shove away from her and she stumbles backward, her cheeks red, her eyes flashing. I’m walking away from her when she shouts for everyone to hear.