“Let’s fucking play.”
Saint
A party. He’s had them here a few times in the past, but those times I’d been told to stay in my room. Over the past few days, I’ve met his friends, been to a new house, seen them fight, and I still don’t understand the dynamics among them all.
Kore licks at my fingers after I close Medusa’s enclosure. “I know. I have been spending time away, but you have Hades and Medusa.”
I’m staring at the stained hardwood door when there’s a loud knock. If you look close enough to the pattern that naturally spills over the wood, you can see faces of evil. Brantley doesn’t knock, so I instantly know it isn’t him.
Taking the steps to the other side of the room, I squeeze the handle and swing it open. Bishop stands at the threshold, his hands buried in his jeans pockets with a hoodie resting around his neck. My mouth dries and my palms itch. I have to rub them down my thighs just to stop fidgeting.
“Hi?”
“Can I come in?” He gestures to my bedroom, and I step aside, allowing him to pass through. He’s not as tall as Brantley, but then not many people are. He’s strong, though, quite obviously spending just as much time lifting weights as Brantley does. His hair is either the darkest blond or a light brown, his skin kissed by a thousand suns. I shut the door behind me and then stop. Should I shut the door?
“It’s fine,” Bishop answers my unspoken question, walking to the other side of my room until he reaches the Italian silk curtains that shade out the sun from reaching into my room. I don’t answer as I make my way farther in, back to my makeup counter and light mirror.
“Is everything okay?” He lowers himself onto my bed, leaning against my marble headboard. His eyes remain passive on mine, but he doesn’t speak a word.
My mouth opens, and just as I’m about to say something, I spin around so my legs are beneath the dressing table and pick up my eyeliner.
“You’re different,” is all he says, and my hand hovers over my left cheek.
“Does that always have to be a bad thing?” I ask, but in the back of my mind, I can already feel myself wanting to ask why he’s in my bedroom. Or maybe this is normal?
When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him through the mirror, finding him still watching me, his hood now over his head. He swallows roughly, his throat contracting around the movement. “No. It’s not. Well,” he adds, tilting his head to the side. The way my bedroom light hits his jawline makes it appear as sharp as Brantley’s. I’ve always loved boys with a nice jaw. From what I saw in movies, anyway…
“Well?” I prompt him to continue, while stroking the liner over my bottom lid. I try for coy. Maybe if I seem disinterested in his answer, he will answer me.
“Has Brantley told you anything about his family?”
After finishing both eyes, I shake my head and turn back around to face him, clutching the silk tie that’s holding my bathrobe closed. “No.” My voice is soft, but the truth is harsh. I bring my focus back to him. “He doesn’t need to. I think I know enough.”
Bishop stands from my bed and moves around my room with familiarity and confidence until he’s directly in front of me. His index finger comes below my ear where he applies gentle pressure. I hold my breath and close my eyes as he drags the tip of his finger directly down from behind my ear to my collarbone. “Hmmm, is that why he branded his name down your neck?”
My tongue flicks over my bottom lip as my eyes reopen, and I’m looking up at Bishop from below. He towers over me, but I’m not uncomfortable. He doesn’t make me feel the way Brantley does. He doesn’t suck the oxygen directly out of my lungs any time he’s near.
With Bishop, it’s easy.
Calm.
Friendly?
“No,” I whisper, resting my head into his arm. It must catch him off guard because his eyes snap to the action. I stand up straight. “Vitiosis is my name, too.”
“Touché.” Bishop chuckles, finally removing his finger from my neck. He’s walking toward my door when I stop him in his tracks.
“Madison…” I try the simple word that no one will speak.
His shoulders visibly still, his fingers flexing over the gold handle. He doesn’t move, but I can already feel the energy in the room shift. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m going to anyway. Tillie filled me in a little bit about him and her. If they love each other that much, why are they not together?
He still hasn’t moved, so I take the shot I’m wanting to shoot. Only now I don’t know what to say. “I won’t talk about her. But I want you to know that if you would like, you can talk about her to me. If you want.” His shoulders rise and fall. “I just mean, you can—”
“—fuck.” He swings the door open and slams it behind his departure, shocking me with his harsh retreat. Maybe I overstepped. I don’t know. But there’s a reason why I think I’ve felt connected to Bishop, and I’m hoping that maybe that connection can be a friendship.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I stand in front of my Victorian mirror, catching Kore and Hades’ eyes in the reflection. “Too much?”
Kore almost dismisses me, placing her head back onto her bed, but Hades is still staring. He tilts his head.
“Maybe?”
It cocks to the other side. Sometimes I wonder if he sees the ghosts that walk this property.
I’m dressed simpler tonight. Black high-waisted boyfriend jeans that cut off above my ankles and a tight turtleneck. I slip on my Givenchy sneakers while scooping my phone up from my bed just as a text comes through.
?: I’ll see you tonight.
I pause, not quite reaching for the handle, and pull my hand back to reply.
Saint: You are coming to the party?
Pushing my phone into my back pocket, I open the door and make my way downstairs, passing the portrait paintings of Brantley’s family on the way down.
Once I hit the bottom of the stairs, the music is louder. No one is inside the house; they’re all outside near the pool—and my garden. The thought makes me anxious.
I round the corner to the kitchen when I bump into Tillie, head deep in the freezer. “Ah, you okay?”
She yelps, jumping back while hitting her head on the way up, rubbing it gently. “Shit, Saint, you scared me. Yes, I’m fine. Do you guys not have ice cream in this house?”
I hold my giggle. She looks flustered. Her pink hair is in natural waves and her face is, from what I can tell, free of any makeup. “We do, it’s in the freezer in the garage, though.”
She eyes me up and down. “No sundress tonight?”
“Well.” I smile. “There’s no sun, so no.”
Her eyes narrow. “Ha. You do have a sense of humor.” Turning, she mutters, “Gets that from me.”
“Sorry?”
“Hmmm?” She looks up at me like she’s said something she shouldn’t have. “Nothing. I just…” She flicks her hands up and down my body. “Really love your style. It’s unconventional. I like that one day you’re wearing a sweet little dress and then the next you could be wearing boyfriend jeans and—are those the new Givenchy?”