At First Hate (Coastal Chronicles)

“Amelia!” I said, crushing her to me as I got past Camden. “I’m so glad we could meet up.”

“You’re at Club 360. I practically begged Derek to let me come along,” she said into my ear.

“How’s Parsons?”

“Almost done.”

“And then what?”

She shrugged. “I’ve had a ton of interviews with designers. We’ll see where it takes me!”

I loved her optimism. It was definitely born from knowing that no matter what happened, she’d land on her feet.

She fingered the scarf at my neck and winked at Derek. “I have impeccable taste, no? Hermès, darling.”

I blinked at her. Even I had heard of Hermès. In fact, we’d passed their shiny window display on Madison Avenue earlier today.

I turned slowly to face Derek. “How much did this scarf cost?”

He laughed softly. “More than a dollar.”

“More like five hundred,” Amelia said.

My eyes widened in horror. “I’ve been wearing it into the lab!”

Derek tried to hold back his mirth. “And that’s what I like about you.”

Camden just eyed our display and gestured for us to follow him inside.

A man in a suit approached him as soon as we entered, and he escorted us to the only remaining empty booth. “Your table, Mr. Percy. If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know.”

“Thank you,” Camden said, slipping him cash and striding into the booth.

A bartender stepped up immediately and began pouring drinks for the table. Derek ordered me a sidecar before I could get a word in, and then tequila shots were on the table. We downed a round before more people appeared, crashing into the booth. I didn’t remember any of their names, just that they were all beautiful.

I stood on my tiptoes and said into Derek’s ear, “Do they breed people differently here?”

He snorted. “I felt the same way when I first got here.”

I took a sip from my sidecar and watched everything happening all around us. I was on a rooftop bar in Manhattan in a private booth with the owner. This was so not my life. And yet it was fun to pretend. Camden’s best friend, Court, seemed friendlier than most, talking me up for an hour and dragging me out onto the dance floor.

I could feel Derek’s eyes on us, and then suddenly, he was there, cutting in as the music continued its jam. Court began dancing with one of the other women who had taken over the booth, nonplussed by Derek’s intervention. Camden appeared a few minutes later with Amelia.

For a split second, the entire room seemed to still as another group of people entered. Every one of them more beautiful than the next. But the woman at the center, she could have been a venomous Snow White. Tall with pale legs for literal days. Her dark hair and makeup professionally done. Her lips the deepest, darkest red, nearly matching the blood-colored dress. She had her hand on a man who looked so much like Court that I almost did a double take. They nearly could have been twins.

“Wow,” I whispered. “Who is that?”

Camden stood at my side when I said it and replied darkly, “That is Katherine Van Pelt.”

“Is she a model?” I asked.

“Yes,” Amelia gushed.

“The resident ice queen of the Upper East Side,” Camden spat out.

“I watched her walk at Fashion Week this year. She was stunning,” Amelia said. Her eyes were wide with envy and maybe a little hero worship.

“And the guy with her? Court’s… brother?”

Camden’s frown deepened. “Penn Kensington. He goes to Harvard for his PhD as well,” he said, his voice like ice.

“You’re friends, I see,” I said with a laugh.

“More like enemies.”

He turned his back on the supermodel and her friends, dragging Amelia back into the dance. It was hard to tear my eyes away from the lot of them. They moved together like the fucking Cullens. In a way, that probably would have made me feel inadequate if I had cared what people thought about me.

Once the tension in the room burst like a bubble, everyone went back to dancing. The crew held court opposite Camden and his friends, and after another sidecar, I forgot to care. Just let Derek grind against me on the dance floor. I leaned back against his chest, my ass pressed his pelvis. He dragged my arms up over my head, still moving with me. I’d had no idea that he was a good dancer. We’d never danced before. Certainly nothing like this. Where we were both hot and sticky. Our bodies pushed together, a simulation of everything we hadn’t been doing over the last couple months. And now, with him tight against me, it was all I could think about.

I’d had no reason to trust Derek when we got together in college. I’d known exactly who he was. But since Halloween, he’d shown me a different version of himself. He’d made the effort. We’d been friends. Was I stupid for wanting more? Or stupid for resisting? I couldn’t take it back if I chose wrong.