Page 47 of Knot Just for Show

I catch the bob of Lysander’s head—snapping back and forth between Mavren and myself with no small amount of confusion as he tries to follow the conversation.

“Ah shit, sorry—I promise we’re not trying to be assholes—Lysander, Mavren—Mavren, Lysander,” I hurriedly introduce the pair to one another.

“We just fuck up naturally.” Mavren bows dramatically before setting his drink materials on the bar, adding for clarification, “We shared a tattoo artist for years without knowing, then said tattoo artist introduced us to one another when I needed to talk to someone about the plant situation for my restaurant.”

Lysander nods slowly, his mouth drawing closed—but I can see his eyes roving me, looking for my tattoos and momentarily finding none—his brows pinch, the corners of his lips slightly downturn.

“Lysander and I hadn’t even gotten to the whole—‘what do you do for a living?’ thing before Timmy showed up with you on his arm,” I explain to Mavren.

“We had only just cleared the—‘Hello, my name is’ portion of the program,” Lysander confirms, looking slightly less uncomfortable from his place dangling his legs into the pool.

I hustle to finish mixing him that drink.

“Well, sorry to throw off the vibe,” Mavren laughs a little uneasily. “This is one fucking hell of a coincidence.”

What neither of us has bothered to mention out loud—is that there had been some kind of underlying tension building between us; or at least I had thought so, before I had finished the final installations at Mavren’s restaurant Pomme Verte. Though I did get the impression that it would have been a little bit of exploration for good ol’ Mavren.

“And we’re only just getting started.” I beam, sweeping my hands wide. “I didn’t get a good look at his clipboard, but according to Timmy’s list—there’s going to be at least two more dudes showing up before the night is out.” I reach into the bar’s mini fridge for a tiny can of pineapple juice and pour it over the vodka and ice I’ve already got in Lysander’s cup.

“Well then, better hurry and make sure you get Lysander his drink.” Mavren chuckles, kicking off his slip on sneakers and cuffing the legs of his gray skinny jeans to settle his bare feet into the water beside Lysander. “The night is still young, and I just have a feeling that we may handle whatever is to come a little less than sober,” he laughs warmly, raising his whiskey on the rocks to us—then to the stars above before he takes a swig.

“Well, you heard the man!” I stir the pineapple juice, vodka, and ice a few times with a spoon before carefully turning it over, pouring a healthy serving of chambord over its shiny rounded back—a deep rose float of the sweet stuff hovering delicately at the top of the drink as I bring it to where Lysander sits. He takesit from me eagerly, his eyes glittering with delight or crackling with nervous energy—it’s hard to tell.

“Cheers, gentleman!” I raise my own beer bottle to the boys, to the stars—and drink deep.

Chapter Sixteen

Teddy

Brittney may end up being a total smoke show, but her taste in dudes—other than yours truly of course, is totally lame.

I mean, for a chick who’s supposedly a model and influencer—it’s not surprising that she picked out all the dudes who are either professional athletes or also models…but come on.

As the first one to arrive at Brittney’s common room, I watched as the usual suspects filed in: Hunter, professional football player alpha with the disposition of a drowsy yellow lab. Laurence, the pretty boy fashion model beta. Kurt, the obnoxiously rich IT alpha-bro who discovered the cult of crossfit and cannot stop himself from preaching to anyone with ears.

I had dutifully done my best to talk fitness-shop with Kurt while Laurence sneered at me from the far end of the kitchen island; Hunter desperately trying to get all of us to do shots with him—since this was, according to him, ‘A NIGHT FOR THE BOYS!’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was more like a snoozy sausage fest, dude.

Since I had scored a total of three key cards; one for Brittney’s lounge, one for Roxy’s, and one for Ursula’s—I decided to move on to the next destination for the evening: Roxy’s pack lounge.

On my way out of Brittney’s lounge, I nearly walk into another one of her suitors on his way in. He's so pale that I almost stop to ask him if he's feeling ok, but his white blond hair and silvery blue eyes tell me that it's more likely just his complexion.

"Oh sorry man, my B" I apologize absently, holding the door open for him and Timmy.

"No worries." He gives me a lazy smile, the silver ring hanging from his septum glittering in the entryway light. Something about him looks familiar…but I can't place it.

"I'm sure I'll catch you later, but I'm Teddy." I reach out and shake his hand.

"Yeah, I bet." He lets out a dry laugh and clasps my hand in a firm, respectable handshake. "I'm Ash."

Something shakes loose in my brain, and I can suddenly place where I've seen him before.

My face must give away my surprise and recognition, because Ash's easy expression clouds over, exasperation drawing his brows and pulling a sigh from him as he turns away from me—hurrying into the pack lounge, Timmy hot on his heels.

That was Ash Dressalier, known by most as ‘KR30SOTE’—the famous DJ and EDM artist.

Well shit, it would be tacky of me to double back now and act all star-struck—but I’ve been pumping KR30SOTE bangers in my headphones at the gym for years.

I’ll get a chance to catch up with him later, I’m sure. I just gotta make sure to tone down the meathead fanboy around him or I’m gonna come off as a star-fucking dweeb.

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