Page 12 of The Masks We Break

It’s like the perfect bully romance.

My eyes flit to the front window where the curtains are open, a perfect view ofhisfront door.

Obviously, I need to stay away from that genre for a while.

Amora sighs, seemingly just as captivated as I am with the glow surrounding Lily. “Sometimes, you make me want to try arelationship.” Her nose scrunches up on the last word.

“No one can handle you, Amora.” Lily huffs, pouring three shots.

I eye the lime she sticks on the rim. It’s not often they get me to drink, but after the week I’ve had, it might be nice to forget for a little while. A friend of mine always tells me I need to loosen up, worry about the future—

“Oh, I might know someone.” I realize after I say it, my voice is much louder than I anticipated, and a flash of heat coats my cheeks. “There’s a guy I tutor.”

Lily laughs, tossing back a shot and slapping it on the counter. “Ha! Let me stop you right there, Remy. William and Amora? That’s like mixing gas and fire.”

It’s not surprising Lily knows I’m talking about Spencer’s best friend, William, but her reaction is. Then again, maybe that’s my dang romance-obsessed mind, going straight for the enemies-to-lovers trope.

Amora’s face pinches together, her long eyelashes flutter as she passes a glance between us. “I didn’t know you were still tutoring.”

“Yeah.” I nod, finally braving the heat and grabbing a muffin before taking a seat on a barstool. “It’s video calls, mostly Friday nights when you’re out or...” Trailing off, I lift my brows, hoping they understand my innuendo.

While I love to read a spicy novel, I can’t vocally bring myself to say promiscuous things out loud. And Amora’s Friday nights are straight smut. Don’t get me wrong, the majority of her evenings end with her on a platter and men dying for another taste without needing to go all the way. Her confidence is awe-inspiring, being able to take what she wants without having to give a piece of herself away.

Meanwhile, here I am, practically throwing my heart on a skewer for a guy that wants nothing to do with me.

Well... past tense.

“And who is William again?” Amora nudges a shot my way before gripping her own and trailing a long finger over the rim.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. She knows exactly who William is. They had a little run-in back in high school, and while that might not be memorable to some—especially someone like her, no one could forget William.

Plus, once, when Amora was drunk, she wondered aloud if his tongue was as talented as it was sharp, saying how she couldn’t find anyone that enticed her the way he did. But then again, maybe she was talking about someone else. The beautiful girl does have her options.

I shake my head and laugh, deciding to drop it and pick up my shot, holding it in the air. “A toast?”

Amora lifts a perfectly arched brow. “To long nights, never-ending shots of tequila, and hangovers we don’t feel in the morning.”

With that, we drink.

And drink.

And drink.

The banana muffins Amora made don’t absorb any of the liquor. They don’t stop me from taking my third shot of Patron or tamper the thoughts that grip my chest when the girls fall asleep on the couch. It’s a tight pull that constricts my lungs until I can’t breathe.

I just need a little fresh air.

At least… that’s what I tell myself when I walk out the front door.

SEVEN

Ifucking despise reading.

Yet, here I am, ten pages in some sci-fi book about a kid sent to a military base in hopes of killing an alien bug. I mean, it’s not too bad, but I would much rather be going over some investment strategies or working on that potato deal in Idaho my father’s been droning on about.

Perhaps I can just watch the movie rendition and do the assigned paper for Dr. Humphrey. I’m well aware they alter a few details, but the big picture points are usually the same.

I make a mental note of the page I’m at before setting the book on my coffee table and grabbing the remote. Stocks light up the screen, hues of red and green filling the dark space. It’s been a long week, and not getting anywhere with my internal investigation is beginning to take a toll on my patience. I thought having the freedom to sort through my father’s endless files would be quick, but everything somehow seemslegal. Add that frustration with my lack ofrelease, and I’m definitely not in the best state.

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