Page 24 of Covetous

A frown creases my forehead. “No. You never know.”

Chapter Nine

Three weeks. That’s how long it’s been since graduation and since Esme and I had that awkward-as-hell conversation about what I’d overheard—that Victor apparently had a thing for me back in the day. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster ever since, feeling everything from anger and regret to relief and confusion, especially when it comes to figuring out how to act around Victor and Esme. I’ve managed to steer clear of Victor, but avoiding Esme is impossible since we’re roommates. They’ve probably both moved on from the whole secret-spilling drama—it seems as if Esme has—but me? I’m still struggling to let it go.

But now, I don’t have a choice. I can’t dodge him any longer, not when I’m about to crash at his place for the night.

The spa appointment with Isabella’s mom and sisters ran longer than expected, so I’ve been sitting in my car outside Victor’s loft for half an hour, waiting for her text. Mrs. James invited me to tag along, but I had to decline because of my shift at Posh. Meeting up with Victor’s mom before Esme could meet her didn’t seem appropriate either.

Isabella

We’re almost finished here. Where are you?

Me

Still in my car.

I crank up my air-conditioning, acutely aware of the fuel I’m burning by letting my car idle for thirty minutes. But the alternative is melting into my leather seats.

Isabella

What? In this heat? Oh, hell no. One sec.

Switching out of my messages app, I pull up the e-book I was reading before receiving her text. After a refreshing sip of my iced coffee, I dive back into my reading.

Isabella

Victor’s home. Wait for me inside.

I already knew he was home. I parked a few spots down from his car. Waiting for Isabella in my car seemed like a better idea.

Me

What time will you get here?

Isabella

It takes twenty minutes to get home. And we’re leaving soon.

Me

Okay. Hurry up.

Isabella

Pretty promise I will. And I told Victor to make you a strawberry daiquiri. I bought all the ingredients this morning. Okay, byee!

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my hand hovering near Victor’s front door, poised to knock. Come on, you can do this. Just leave it all in the past—no more ghosts of unsaid stuff or old feelings creeping into now. I take a deep breath and rap my knuckles against the door, hoping I can keep that promise to myself. But that hope pretty much nosedives when Victor swings the door open. There’s this weird charge in the air, like we’re both suddenly super aware of each other, and it’s all kinds of awkward.

“What’s up?” he says, stepping aside to let me into his gloriously air-conditioned loft. Just as Esme had described, his place is a perfect blend of concrete, brick, steel, and dark wood, giving off a masculine vibe. His bedroom is on the second level, visible behind a steel railing.

“Hey.” Walking past him, I catch a whiff of his clean scent, a tantalizing blend of soap and something uniquely Victor that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Long time, no see.”

“I’ve been staying over at Ian’s a lot. How was your Fourth of July?”

“It was all right. Hung out with some friends.”

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