Page 21 of Insatiable

The room is laid out with rows of small tables, each with a single chair on either side. The sight of the empty tables makes my stomach clench—no food, not even a crumb. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. I start to sit opposite Rowena, but Anthura’s sharp voice cuts through the air, freezing me in my tracks.

"You," she says, her eyes boring into mine. "Sit at a table on your own. I don’t want any of you three together."

Her words hang in the air like a commandment, and the temperature in the room seems to drop. I glance at Rowena, who gives me a tight nod, before reluctantly moving to a table on her own.

“Some party!” I mumble under my breath, frustration bubbling up as I plop down at the next table over. My gaze flickers to Rowena, and I see the same irritation mirrored in her eyes.

Dade comes in next, his presence like a dark storm cloud. He moves straight towards Quinn, but Anthura intercepts him with a sly smile, guiding him to a table at the other side of the room. I can practically feel the annoyance radiating off of him.

My heart sinks further when Tate walks through the door looking the exact definition of perfection. I’ve not said two words to the woman since meeting her, but something about her fills me with hate. Maybe it’s because she’s a little too perfect, a little too much like the women Tomas would go for. She’s alone, but the mere sight of her makes me clench my fists. Anthura points her to the chair opposite Dade, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Quinn. I stifle a groan, knowing exactly what Anthura is up to.

Tomas saunters in next, and my heart lurches. So soon after Tate? I don’t want my mind to go there, but the thought gnaws at me. He gives me a cheery smile, and I feel a wave of disgust wash over me. Anthura must have caught my expression because she guides him right to my table. Of course she does. This is Anthura we’re talking about, always putting people who don’t get along together. And in Tate’s case, pairing her with Dade to irritate Quinn. Not that Quinn looks particularly irritated, which surprises me. Dade is fiercely into Quinn, but Tate is the type of woman that won’t care and would try her luck, anyway. And Dade, well, he’s a man at the end of the day. Tate is good looking enough to turn any man’s head.

When Felix walks in, I half-expect her to send him straight to Rowena. Instead, she places him near Dade and Tate. I sit back in my chair with folded arms, ignoring the grin that I know is plastered on Tomas’s face. Despite the years and years withoutseeing him, I know him so well. That fact alone irritates me to no end.

“I think that’s everyone?” George flicks his eyes to Anthura who nods her head. She has a sly smile on her face telling me that whatever this “party” is about, it’s not going to be anything good.

“Wonderful. Welcome everyone. I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you for coming to my party at such short notice. So this isn’t a party like you are used to.”

“No shit,” I whisper. Opposite me, Tomas snorts, sending the eyes of the contest leaders our way.

“Sorry,” Tomas musters. “Cough.”

The corners of my mouth turn up almost automatically and I hate myself for it.

Anthura sneers, but doesn’t say anything, allowing George to continue. “This party is for talking. I want you to get to know the person in front of you.”

I flick my eyes over at Tomas to find him staring back at me. We both know each other a little too well. This is going to be a pointless task.

“Moloch is going to hand out some sheets of paper with some questions on for you. I’d like you to look into the eyes of the person you are sitting with and ask them the questions.”

Well, shit!

Moloch ambles around the tables slowly, depositing the questions. It’s like being back at middle school. Ironically, middle school is where I first met Tomas. For a second I wonder if this isn’t a ploy to take us back to our pasts, but then remember, I didn’t meet any of the others in school. It’s just bad luck that this task brings back so many memories. Great memories, damn it. I wish I could remember the bad things Tomas did while we were at school together, but he was amazing back then. He was the handsomest boy in school and a bit of abad boy, which, of course, appealed to me. By high school we were ditching lessons together to make out or drink the vodka he’d stolen from his parents’ liquor cabinet. They were amazing times. It’s such a shame he turned into such a toad.

“Jules!” Tomas stares at me as though he’s waiting for something. He holds up the piece of paper that Moloch has just deposited on our desk and reads the first question aloud. “What’s your favorite food? No, don’t tell me. Bacon!”

“No, actually,” I lie, crossing my arms and trying to sound indifferent. “My tastes have become far more refined since you left me.”

His expression hardens. “You left me,” he corrects, his voice tight.

“Only because you were cheating on me... again,” I shoot back, my words laced with bitterness.

George walks past, chortling, and scribbles something on a pad of paper he's holding. I narrow my eyes at him, irritation bubbling up, but he’s already jotting down something that Quinn has said to Orlin, who she's been sat with.

“What is your favorite food?” I say through gritted teeth, already knowing the answer but needing to fill the silence.

“Key lime pie,” Tomas replies, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Another core memory unlocks, making me hate him even more. I used to make him key lime pie every Friday. One Friday, he didn’t come home. He was fucking some hussy and forgot the time. Then I remember where that particular pie ended up—right in his face. It was quite amusing, actually.

A smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. I was so angry at the time, but now the memory of the pie filling dripping down his nose is funny. God, we used to hurt one another. The thought is bittersweet, a sharp pang of the love and betrayal that used to define us.

Tomas looks at me, confusion flickering in his eyes as he notices my smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Just remembering something,” I say, the smirk widening. “Like the time you wore a key lime pie.”

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm. “I deserved that.”

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