Page 5 of Tainted Rose

Xander

My eyes slowly attempt to open but my eyelids feel heavy, and my head is pounding a furious beat. I wince. What the fuck did I do last night? I peer around my room, vision blurry. Seeing Scarlett’s discarded panties on the floor brings a smile to my face despite the hangover.

And then it hits me like a freight train, what I’ve done—what I had to do.

Fuck.I sit up, memories of last night hitting me hard, a punch to the gut. I wonder how she is, what she’s doing. I drag my hands over my face. The sick feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with the alcohol I consumed, and everything to do with the girl whose heart I broke last night. This fucking sucks.

A knock sounds on the door. “Xander? Are you awake, honey?”

June. I raise my voice so she can hear me through the door. “Hang on a sec.” I grumble as I sit up. There aren’t many people I’d even open the door for on a morning like this, but June happens to be one of them. She’s been Sebastian’s cook since before Mom and I came to live here. She actually worked for his parents before that and has known him his whole life. I pull a T-shirt over my head before I unlock my door and open it. “Hey.” My voice sounds rough.

She raises one eyebrow at me from the doorway where she holds a tray with a tall glass of water, a couple of painkillers, and a mug of steaming hot coffee. She tilts her head to the side. “I thought so.” I stand back and gesture that she can come in. She harrumphs and strides into the room.

My lips twitch. “How did you know?”

She pauses, turning back to me to answer. “You should know better. I’m well aware of when liquor bottles disappear, honey. And since neither Sebastian or Isabella look none the worse for wear this morning, I figured it must have been you.”

A smile spreads across my face, even though my head is still threatening to pound right off my neck. “Yeah. Rough night.”

She surveys the room as she comes in, setting the tray on top of the table in front of the couch. “Looks like it.” Then she clears her throat and says with a huff, “Glad I’m not the housekeeper. I’ll be honest. Smells like debauchery in here. You need to air things out.” She crosses the room and cranks open a window. “Also looks like your girlfriend forgot something.” She gestures to Scarlett’s panties as she walks back to stand in front of me, her brow pinching as a troubled look slips over her features.

I rub my hand over the back of my head. If anyone can embarrass me, it’s June. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Nothing really surprises me anymore, young man. I’ve been around this family for way too long.” She looks at me pointedly. “But Sebastian said she left in a big hurry last night. Everything okay?”

I press my lips together and shrug one shoulder. “Not really. It is what it is.”

“Sebastian said she seemed like a nice girl—pretty red hair.”

I study her curious expression for a second before I shrug. “June, I think the problem is that she’s too nice for me. I never should have gone near her. Never should have touched her in the first place.”

“Well, it takes a real man to own up to his mistakes. Keep that in mind. I watched your stepdad do that plenty over the years.”

At Micah’s house later that night, I look around at everyone partying, celebrating last night’s big win, yet I don’t really see them. It’s all old hat to me now, nothing new. Micah’s parents aren’t here, as usual. My classmates dance, drink, fuck around, and have a good time. It all means nothing to me. Feeling like absolute shit, I slouch quietly on a couch in the corner with a bottle of tequila. Because another night drunk off my ass is totally going to make all of my problems disappear.

A bikini-clad Aria, wrapped in a towel and fresh out of the pool, plops herself down on the cushion next to me. She flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder, appraising my current status. “Getting fucked up tonight, Xan?” She aims a faux-sweet smile in my direction. “Looks like you’re doing an excellent job of it.”

I’m not fooled. She wants to know what’s going on with Scarlett, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I haven’t said a fucking word to anyone. Part of me wonders if that’s because I wish it hadn’t been necessary to do it. But that had been the plan all along; she wouldn’t leave, so I needed to reel her in, make her fall, then make her hate me all over again. I’ve got to commend myself—I did a fan-fucking-tastic job of it. So good, in fact, I’m afraid I may never forgive myself.

“You could say that. Different day, different bottle.” I tip the bottle up to my lips, not even wincing as the liquor flows down my throat. I deserve every bit of the hangover I’m going to have again tomorrow.

“Where is she?” Aria’s shrewd eyes scan the room.

And there it is. Aria won’t even refer to Scarlett by name. Never has with me. She probably figures if she ignores her, maybe she’ll go away.

“She’s not here.”

“Why not? You two have been attached at the hip lately.”

I cock my head in her direction and shake my head. “She doesn’t want to be, I’m sure.”

“She doesn’t want to be here or attached to your hip? Why are you being difficult?” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

“Both.” My response is clipped, effectively ending the discussion.

She knows better than to push me when I’m in a mood like this. She narrows her gaze on me, then touches her tongue to her upper lip the way she always does when she’s thinking. After a few seconds, she tilts her head and gives a little shrug before holding her phone up in front of her face. At first, it looks like she’s checking her lipstick in the reverse camera, but then she leans over, presses herself against me, and snaps a photo.

“Come on, Aria,” I grunt, trying to shift away from her.

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