Page 39 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

“No problem,” he says to Ari. “We were just headed out anyway.”

“I didn’t finish my margarita,” I whisper. “And we didn’t pay.”

Ari follows us down the hall, past the bar and all the way to the door. I get the distinct impression that she’s sour about catching us—more for the fact that what Liam had said earlier was true: she would go home with him if he asked.

“I paid already,” he tells me.

That doesn’t explain away the margarita, though.

He propels me outside, and an icy blast hits us. I shiver, stepping closer to Liam, and he guides me down the road. A few blocks later, we stop at another brownstone. It appears to be a lot like mine, except a bit fancier. There’s a front garden, and someone put out pumpkins on either side of the stairs.

I glance around. “You live here?”

“Charitable donation from Theo,” he mutters. “Not fancy enough for you?”

“Seems a little too fancy for you,” I reply.

He chuckles. “Friends in high places, Buckley. Remember that next time you want to sabotage me.”

Ugh.

He motions for me to go up the stairs.

“I should go home,” I weakly protest.

“To your crying roommate? Or to sit alone in your room?” He rolls his eyes. “Sure, be my guest.”

I throw my shoulders back. I’m tempted to do it, just to follow through with the bluff.

The idea of going back to my apartment now of all times sits on my shoulders like a wet blanket… so I push it aside.

“Never mind.” I trot up the steps and stand beside the door, waiting for him to unlock it.

He stops right next to me, close enough that I could imagine warming myself on his body heat. His frame blocks the wind, at least.

“After you,” he says.

I enter.

The door slams behind us. I need to not freak out at every decision I make. I definitely need to not overthink this. Nothing’s going to happen in his apartment…

He mentioned something about me being untouched, which is a bit dramatic. I’ve been touched. Just not with any sort of finesse, and definitely not by anyone who gave a damn about what I felt.

One of the cheerleaders, Amelie, made a point to coach the girls on oozing sexuality. It wasn’t forced—she wasn’t even a captain when I joined—but the cheerleaders were expected to flirt with the athletic boys.

The first party we went to, one of the football boys groped me. He kissed my neck and palmed my breast, and I was too in shock, too drunk, to do anything about it.

He showed up to school the next day with a broken nose and two black eyes, mumbling about how he fell getting home the night prior. A week later, he was kicked off the football team.

Boys avoided me after that. And then I was kicked off the team—apparently, thanks to Liam. Because I would’ve been a distraction.

Whatever that means.

“This one,” Liam says, grabbing my arm.

I would’ve walked right by his door. Lost in my thoughts.

Head in the clouds.