Page 31 of Something So Strong

Flipping up the shirt’s stiff collar, I drape the red tie around my neck. Taking a side in each hand, I pause, staring at my reflection and forgetting what to do. Because you know I was that kid at school who got his friend—Romeo—to tie it once a year and carefully slipped it off over his head.

Leaving it be, I move to my suitcase and the shoes I’ve brought. Old Lady Handsie hadn’t specified footwear. Squatting down—the bottom of my shirt pulling free from my pants—I pull out my brown leather Chelsea boots because at least I have a belt to match. Grabbing said belt from the other side of my suitcase, I flop down on the edge of my bed and pull on my shoes. Then I’m back at the mirror, re-tucking my shirt and threading the belt through the pants loopholes. The bathroom next, where I comb my fingers through my hair, tie it back, and tuck the loose strands behind my ears.

And that’s it.

There’s nothing else left to procrastinate over before having to face the day. I have just enough time to grab something quick to eat, force down a coffee, and walk to the main hotel building.

Sliding my phone into my back pocket—it’s snug, but still fits—I shake my arms and kick my feet to flick out the residual foreboding still in my system because what my dick wants and what my brain understands are still at loggerheads.

Entering the kitchen, I immediately spot Romeo slumped on a table with his head resting on his arms. After grabbing a croissant, I make a quick detour to the coffee pot and slide a cup in front of my friend before sitting. Taking a large swig from my own cup, I wince at the cheap bitterness.

“What time do you start?” I ask, keeping my mouth open like it’s the key to making the foul taste go away.

“Meeting Cleo and Kendall out in the front at eight-thirty,” he groans without lifting his head.

I gulp down the rest of the black abomination and remind myself to add five sugars to tomorrow’s cup. “Why the fuck are you in here so early?”

A lamentable sigh almost whistles out of Romeo’s mouth as he turns his head towards me. The bags under his eyes are even bigger than Kai’s and tell me everything I need to know.

“A whisky coma might be in order to get you on the same clock as everyone else,” I snicker at him while pivoting my chair.

“Morning boys.” A firm hand lands on my shoulder, holding me in place, and I know it’s Kai without having to look. But I can’t help myself, and when I do, he locks his eyes with mine and holds them there for several long, silent seconds before claiming the seat beside me with an empty bowl. “Well, hello there, Romeo. To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing your sexy self so early on this fine morning?”

“Fuck off, Kai,” Romeo huffs, tucking his head beneath his arms.

With a satisfied smirk, Kai disappears, only to return seconds later with a Tupperware container full of cereal. “See, Jess. If you want me to stop, just tell me to fuck off. It’s that simple.”

Our gaze meets again, but this time I hold it, daring him to say something else.

His smile falls, but his eyes burn right through me.

“That guy’s a wanker,” Romeo mutters when Kai leaves to get milk.

“You get used to it… I think. At least it doesn’t bother me that much anymore… Besides, he can’t be that bad. Cleo raved about him, and she flashed her gash to you, so…”

Romeo kicks me from under the table.

“Go back to bed.”

“Yeah, alright,” he moans. “But… drinks again tonight? I need to pass out cold.”

I shake my head. “Sure. Whatever, mate.” And watch as Romeo pushes up from the table and trudges away like an old man.

“Looks like I got you all to myself again,” Kai says as he sits and mixes his cereal. “Shit. Did you want some?” He hastily plunges the spoon back into the bowl and spins in his chair.

“Na, Mate, it’s cool.” I pull the croissant towards me. “Besides, it seems like you can’t stand to be away from me for longer than thirty seconds.”

“Don’t tease me,” he winks, finally taking a mouthful of cereal.

Needing to busy my hands, I pick up the pastry and tear off a piece. Several flakes land in my lap, and before I have a chance to move, Kai reaches over with his free hand and brushes the crumbs from my thigh. “Don’t wanna dirty your uniform before the day has even started.”

Ignoring the rest of the croissant, I quickly scoot my chair further beneath the table. “It’s twenty minutes to seven,” I say, looking at the clock on the wall, searching for something to fill the silence with.

“Don’t you worry your adorable self. There’s plenty of time.”

Remaining seated, I watch Kai leave the table, rinse his bowl, stack it in the dishwasher, and then look straight back at me. Mortified, I dart my eyes away, but I know I’ve been caught.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he smirks, returning with coffee in a to-go cup.

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