Page 75 of The Misfit

My best friend.

My fake girlfriend.

My world shatters just like the crystal in my grip.

“Lee, darling, you’re bleeding.”

Am I?I look down at my hand, at the small cuts made from the broken glass. At the bourbon mixing with blood. At the way my fingers shake with something darker than drink.

On the dance floor, Aries pulls Salem closer. She doesn’t resist. The pressure in my chest builds, and I feel like I’m losing her, but how can I lose something that I never even had?

“Should I call someone?” Charlotte asks, her voice pitched with concern. “The bleeding?—”

“Shut up.” The words come out razor-sharp. “Just … shut the fuck up about gardens and ceremonies and bleeding and?—”

The world around me comes to a screeching halt.

Salem’s eyes have found mine across the room. Even through the bourbon haze, I can tell the moment she sees me,reallysees me, and all the fucked-up, broken pieces of my soul. Her beautiful smile falters, and her hand tightens into a fist against Aries’s chest.

Mine.

The word echoes in my head.

Mine.

Even if it’s fake.

Mine.

Even if she’s better off with him.

“Lee?” Charlotte’s voice seems very far away. “Your mother won’t like?—”

The mask I wear slips off my face.

“Excuse me,” I growl, shoving the broken glass at Charlotte.

She sputters something about manners and mothers and proper behavior, but I’m already moving. Blood drips from my palm, staining my white cuff crimson. Good. Let it stain. Let everything perfect about this night bleed out like the lies we’ve been telling.

The crowd parts before me—maybe it’s my expression, maybe it’s the blood, or maybe it’s the Sterling name that makes them scatter. I don’t know; neither do I care. My focus narrows to Salem and Aries, still wrapped up in their little dance.

A dance that should be mine.

“Lee—”

Aries spots me first, his hands tightening on Salem’s waist. Protective. Like he has any right to protect her from me.

“Move.” The word comes out like gravel. Like bourbon and blood and broken glass.

Salem’s eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. “You’re hurt?—”

“Private room.” I reach for her with my good hand. “Now.”

“We were in the middle of a dance,” Aries starts, but something in my expression makes him step back.

“Now.” It’s not a request this time. I wrap my fingers around Salem’s silk-covered wrist, careful even in my rage not to disturb her gloves. “Both of you.”

Aries follows as I guide—drag—them toward the east wing. Away from the party. Away from curious eyes and gossipping mouths and my mother’s calculating stare. Salem doesn’t resist, but I feel her counting steps under her breath.

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