Page 27 of Forever Midnight

“No.” I blow out a breath, picking at a cuticle. “I’m not really sure why. I think I was just getting tired of the bullshit. My parents are society people, you know? We have to beseento stay relevant. Our lives are under a microscope, with everyone just waiting for one of us to fuck up so they can all celebrate the downfall. I don’t know what it is about people, but we love to see others fail way more than we like to see them succeed.”

“Sadly, that’s true,” Midnight says. “Everyone loves a scandal.”

“Right. I guess I just woke up and realized my friends weren’t really friends. We were either people thrown together by similar circumstances, like rich, powerful parents, or they were fame chasers.”

Midnight nods.

“And I’m not even famous. I’m just my dad’s son, but that makes me interesting to people like that and to the media. That’s what fuels me to stop Malice. Those bastards can’t wait to find dirt on someone and then use it to fuck up lives.”

“We’ll get to them, Tru. You have my word.”

I nod, slowly meeting his eyes. “Enough about me. What about you? What do you do when you aren’t working?”

“I hang out here with my brothers. I read a bit. Watch movies sometimes. Nothing terribly exciting.”

“You don’t date?”

His face reacts to the question, his features flinching for just a second. “I haven’t in a long time. My lifestyle isn’t really suited to dating.”

“But Syn has Bowie.”

“That’s a unique situation. Syn is the first in dec—many years to have a permanent lover.”

“Permanent lover?” I raise my eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Uh, yeah. Boyfriend works. Their relationship is very intense and unusual.”

“Bowie seems cool though.”

“He’s a wonderful person. He makes Syn happy, which is good enough for me.”

“That’s good. How old are you?”

Midnight looks shocked by the question before he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was calculating his age in his head.

“Forty.”

“Forty? Seriously? You barely look thirty.”

“Good genes.”

“I guess so. You must work out a lot.”

“No. My physique is…natural.”

Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying to me, Midnight?”

“Lying? No. Why do you think that?”

“You’re just being weird. Hesitating a lot and shit.”

“I’m not used to talking about myself. That’s all.”

“Okay. Maybe I could use a piece of toast or a bagel or something.” I’m not hungry, but this conversation is awkward.

“Certainly.” Midnight stands abruptly, obviously just as eager as I am to get some space.

He’s kind of strange, but there’s something weirdly comforting about him. Almost familiar.

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