“They knew each other before then, Paisley. They’ve fucked before, numerous times. I think there was something between them—they were on a break or in a fight or something. Then she started screwing around with that guy Drew. Remember him?”
“There are too many to remember just one,” I say snidely.
She shakes her finger. “That's true. She's got some serious issues with being validated by penis.”
I ponder Eden’s read on Dandi’s revolving door of boys. Then my brain finally catches up to the other claims Eden made. “You mean to tell me that Dandi and Boyles always knew each other?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m telling you. They knew each other on the night you met him, and they were involved.”
I’m trying figure out if my heart wants to sink to the floor or not. I’m more flabbergasted than hurt.
A waitress stops at our table. She and Eden talk about how busy it is this afternoon. “Who’s on the grill?” Eden asks.
“Proctor.”
“Then we’ll have two orders of surf and turf and two espresso martinis. Give us lots of bread too. She’s starving.”
I open my mouth to object to the cocktail but then decide that an espresso martini doesn’t sound like a bad idea.
Eden winks at me. “I knew you wouldn’t object. Believe me, you’ll love it.” She readjusts herself in her seat and makes sure she has my full attention. “Listen, it’s up to you.”
“What’s up to me?” I ask, frowning.
“If you want to keep her around. Personally, I’m tired of spraying down the walls after her night’s fuck jerks off in the shower. And then there’s one that’s always leaving a log in the toilet.”
“Ugh,” I say, contorting my face with disgust. “That guy.”
“Yeah, that fucking guy.”
The girl sitting across from me is a contradiction. She’s tilting her head and twisting her mouth as if she’s Cinderella, wheeling and dealing like one of those characters in Cassius Marcellus Coolidge’s portrait of dogs playing poker.
The waitress sets a basket of bread on our table. We both dig in, slathering our rolls with butter.
“What I’m saying is it’s not my place to lay down the law in your suite,” she says.
I jerk my head back. “My suite.”
“Yes, yours. Treasure made it clear that you’re in charge.”
I shake my head as I chew. Sometimes, my cousin just goes too far when it comes to her need to control others. Hierarchies are way too important to her.
“It’s our suite, Eden.”
She scrunches up her face, and her groan indicates the contrary. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is,” I insist.
“You really do suck at social politics.”
“But this isn’t about social politics. This is about us being students and where we live. And…”
My mouth is caught open.What the…He’s seated at the bar, and he just swiveled his chair to get a look at the room. His face is so perfect, from the delicious cleft in his chin to his penetrating pale-blue eyes. As it used to be in high school, our gazes have connected. It’s Hercules Valentine.
Chapter Thirteen
Get Under To Get Over
Paisley Grove
