Page 23 of Until the End of Ever
“Not a word,” I warned him, as he dragged Castor’s chair out.
“You can’t give such a spectacle and refused praise.” Lucian shook his head as he sat, chuckling. “One too many.”
“Don’t get me started.”
“You know, most children of noble and founding families don’t mind shacking up with second cousins twice removed.”
“Excellent. They’re very welcome to him.”
He snorted. “Are all your dates like this?”
“If you call this a date, then yes, more or less. Typically, I point out other reasons why it won’t work. Castor made it easy.”
“He should consider himself lucky you didn’t mention his prevalent nostril hair.”
I raised my glass. “Yet.”
We both turned when the shouting stopped, to watch Castor stomp back, already red in the face.
I should have told Lucian to move. This was going to be ugly enough without adding the humiliation of an audience. But I liked having him here. I liked Castor watching us together, so that his slow mind could eventually piece the puzzle together, wondering why he believed he could have worked with me, when I did not fit with someone like him.
Seeing Lucian and me in the same companymade sense. Even here, surrounded by this terrible decor, with the gaudytable and the stupid trumpet. He wasn’t seven steps below, needing to fight to manage getting a word in.
I didn’t like to think I was arrogant as such. Yes, I was aware that I had been rather successful academically growing up, but Silver scraped by with passing grades, and I would never consider my friend any less intelligent than I. I just had a better memory, focus, and well, willingness to learn. Silver still made sense next to me. So did Gideon, and we couldn’t be any more different. Individual people as we are, those I surrounded myself with were amazing.
Castor was my lesser, though I assumed he likely did better than Silver at school, and had more magic than Gideon. What he lacked was confidence, interest, and charm. To put it simply, he’d clearly been too busy trying to get in with the right crowd to look for a personality all his life.
Once he reached us, his eyes flew from Lucian to me, and back and forth three more times, before he finally found his words.
“This is my seat!” he sputtered.
I turned to Lucian, casually replying, “He’s right. It is.”
I should probably not be enjoying this as much as I was.
“Oh?” he said mildly, gray eyes dancing with amusement. “Ever so sorry, my friend. It’s not in my nature to ignore a beautiful woman sitting alone.”
So of course, he didn’t move an inch.
Castor looked to me for support, no doubt wondering if my sharp tongue would reprimand the interloper, demanding he vacate a seat that I’d already agreed didn’t belong to him.
“You think I’m beautiful?” I cooed, batting my lashes. “You’re so kind.”
It probably wasn’t wise; my mother would most definitely hear every detail and rage at me. But it was too much fun. I’d already fulfilled my side of the bargain. I had shown up, ordereda drink, and declined his suit—perhaps not as directly as I should have. I sensed I needed to be a lot clearer for him to get the memo.
“I waited months for a chance!” Castor roared. “You can’t interrupt my date.”
Yep. Time to be as plain as possible. “Castor, I already said so, but let me repeat myself: we are not compatible and I reject your suit.”
I didn’t like to be this blunt when it could be helped, but when I tried saying it gently, he recited our family tree instead of taking the hint.
“That’s…I—” he tried. “Your mother!”
I was hoping I wasn’t rolling my eyes too hard. “My mother approves suitors who wish to court me, but she cannot force me to accept one. If it makes you feel better, I would have rejected you for choosing to shout at our poor bartender instead of attempting some form of conversation.”
Do not mention the suit. Or the nostril hair!
“In layman’s terms,” Lucian drawled, “you snooze, you lose, cretin.”
