Page 10 of Since Always

I catch sight of Owen through the illuminated window, even as I think about it. He and Chris are standing with a group, and not for the first time I am almost taken aback by how stunningly beautiful he is.

There is a flash of memory, of skin. Of tanned, toned abs and a fist in my hair.

"Anyway," Lexi is saying, and I have to pull my focus back to her. "That's honestly pretty much it with me. You've seen the rest on my socials, I'm sure. Now you. Tell me everything!"

And for a moment I wish I could. That I could share this thing with her that has been eating away at me for two years.

"I mean, there's not a ton to tell you," I say instead. Because I know it is too dangerous. It could destroy he and I both.

I don't know how long the girls and I have been catching up, but I'm uncomfortable sitting, so I stand up to stretch my legs. I am quickly cornered by a drunk Vadim.

"Why are you not drinking?" he asks.

"I am," I say. "Just not quite like you, Vad."

"It is very good to see you, Cassidy Sloane," he slurs.

"Your friend should take a shot. She seems like she's not having much fun," a guy next to us says. Vadim shoots him a look.

"Who are you?"

The guy scoffs, and I know he thinks that we—that everyone—should already know who he is. "I am Drew Hart," he says, waiting for a reaction that we don't give him. "My dad is Phoenix Hart."

Vadim shrugs, this information not meaning anything to him.

"His dad owns a sports team," I explain to Vadim, recognizing the name.

"Three. Three teams." Drew corrects, taking a long pull from his beer.

"Ah," Vadim says. "Now I see I am supposed to be impressed. Am I impressed, sweet Cassidy?"

I snort. "Hardly."

Drew smirks at me, not deterred. He's got that sandy-haired, blue-eyed Ken doll look nailed. Handsome, I suppose. Plastic, but still handsome.

"You are Jack Sloane's daughter, right?"

"Indeed."

"Your dad was a cool guy."

"He was."

"So tell me, Sloane Jr..."

"Cassidy."

"So, Cassidy, why aren't you drinking tonight? You've been holding that glass for half an hour. I've been watching you."

"That's creepy, Drew," I tell him. "I don't know, I just don't feel like it, I guess. Too much over Christmas."

Through the window over Drew's shoulder, Chris and Owen are now chatting with a group of women. Two of them around my age say something to get Owen's attention and he turns to them. They squeal with his acknowledgment, and I cringe with secondhand embarrassment. He takes it in stride, though, as this has become a common part of his daily life. One of them holds out her phone to take a selfie with him, and he smiles and leans in.

"Your family has that huge New Year's Eve party, right?" Drew says, and it takes me a moment to realize he's said something I need to reply to.

"Yeah. Every year."

"I heard it's the place to be. I couldn't persuade you to get me on the list, could I?"

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