Steal (Seaside Pictures 3) - Page 13

Demetri pointed at Zane. “He made it happen. Have I mentioned how much I hate when this guy’s not touring? Too much damn free time.”

Zane flipped him off. “Don’t hate on the guy who sold out Madison Square Garden.”

“Because of us!” Demetri threw his hands in the air. “Wait.” He reached for Zane’s phone. “What are you doing?”

“Tweeting.” Zane took off running. Demetri followed.

“Children,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s like having children.”

Alec’s deep voice had me nearly stumbling into the sink. “Yeah well, I say actors are way harder to deal with than musicians.” He held out his hand. I shook it. “At least you don’t have to potty train them.”

“Hah, the stories I could tell.” I sighed. “Is everyone really here?”

“Oh, yeah.” Alec bobbed his dark head, “And tonight’s date night so… things might get a bit crazy, the grandparents are watching Ella.”

“Crazy as in?”

“Let’s just say… this might be the first party shut down in history — that has no alcohol.”

“Can’t wait.”

IT WAS ABSOLUTE mayhem.

Zane was running around shirtless while Demetri chased him through the house, Alec and Nat were making out on the balcony, where I’m assuming they thought they were hidden, clothes were coming off faster than I could blink.

My own brother was in the corner with Dani while Jay and Pris talked loudly about safe sex.

And I was in the middle of it all, grinning, trying to keep track of all of the different conversations, the yelling, the buzz of being around people — nice people.

I had never fit in.

Not with anyone.

And it’s not like I suddenly did.

But, for the first time, I wasn’t sticking out, I was just… part of the gang. And it actually felt really good.

Better than I could have ever imagined.

Even though I was tired.

And dreaming about my pillow.

“Question,” Lincoln pried himself away from Dani and pointed down the hall. “Why doesn’t this room have a door?”

I felt myself tense. “That’s a fantastic question, you should ask Will.”

Lincoln crossed his arms.

I didn’t feel an ounce of pity that my brother was about to lose his shit all over Will, until Lincoln started narrowing his eyes at the lack of a door, then at me, and then the empty space.

I’d forgotten that he always assumed the worst when it came to my behavior — because I’d never given him a reason to believe the best.

It stung.

I flinched when his entire face froze and an angry snarl replaced his smile,

“It’s not what you think it is, Will’s just making sure I don’t make bad choices by way of drug addiction, pornography, or anything else illegal, I’m lucky to have my own bathroom.”

The muscles along Lincoln’s jaw ticked so violently I actually stepped away from him as he stomped across the room.

Will just rounded the corner in time for Lincoln to punch him in the face.

I covered my mouth with my hands. And a small part of me cheered, even though I felt bad for Will.

I mean I was the one without the door. I was the one who had to suffer knowing that he didn’t think I deserved any kind of privacy, like a prisoner in his home.

“What the f—”

Lincoln jerked him to his feet. “She has no door.”

Will rubbed his jaw. I’d never seen him fight a client; he was always controlled. The adult within a group of spoiled celebrities.

So I expected him to tell everyone to calm down and have a rational conversation.

Instead, he charged Lincoln, driving him directly into one of the nice fake plants on the wood coffee table.

It broke beneath them.

Jay yawned behind his hand and nodded at me. “So, what’s this about a door?”

“I don’t have one.” I pointed at the guys still struggling to throw punches. “Shouldn’t you do something?”

“My money’s on Will.” Zane handed Alec a bill.

Demetri tilted his head, “Yeah but Linc’s got heart. After all, it is his sister.”

I scowled and waited for someone to at least try to break them apart. When nobody moved, I finally rushed between both of the guys, getting my hands on one muscled chest and shoving back only to stumble into another muscled chest and encounter a fist on my nose.

“Shit!” I collapsed against the floor holding my nose and nearly passing out over the crimson blood that gushed all over my hands.

“Ang!” Lincoln reached for me, but Will shoved him back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. It was an accident—”

“Just get her some ice.” Will snapped.

I groaned and tilted my head back against the couch cushion, Will’s face came into view, his cheek was swelling, his lip was cut, and he still managed to look gorgeous. I didn’t even want to know what my nose looked like. It felt larger than my head, and when Lincoln finally returned with ice and a towel, I wanted to cry.

There was a time in my life that I would have gladly taken a punch in order to become the center of attention — and now? Now I just wanted to crawl back to my room and hide under the covers, or maybe just slam my nonexistent door and pray for tomorrow to come.

“Let me see.” Will pried my hand away and wiped the blood beneath my nose then placed a bag of ice across it. “Does it feel broken?”

“How the hell would she know?” Demetri asked, “It’s not like she can sense broken bones in her body.”

“Party’s over.” Will’s eyes locked with mine. “I’ll deal with, Ang.”

Deal with me.

Not take care of me.

But deal with me.

Like I was the problem.

The party crasher, when I was just trying to keep him and my brother from killing each other.

Tears welled in my eyes.

And they weren’t a result of any sort of physical pain — but embarrassment, and a hell of a lot of shame, that I was his problem.

And that he wouldn’t ever view me as anything more than a situation he had to fix in order to make himself look better.

I imagined that in Will’s book, I was like a sickness he was trying to get over and cover up, the sooner he was healed the sooner he was free.

“It’s fine.” I stood on wobbly legs and swayed against the couch, Zane grabbed my arm. I shrugged free. “You guys keep having fun, I’ll go take care of it myself.”

I left out the part that that’s what I’d been doing my whole life, why change things up now?

I didn’t realize that there were tears on my cheeks until I glanced at my reflection in the bathroom.

Dark straight hair with honey highlights were emphasized only by my light eyes and stark cheekbones.

I used to love my cat’s eyes.

Now I just felt angry when I looked in the mirror, like the face I had didn’t match what was inside — and never did.

I jerked on the faucet and grabbed a washcloth to get the rest of the blood off of my chin and lips.

A knock sounded on the door and then it was shoved open nearly knocking me on my ass.

Before I could protest, Will had inched himself into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “I sent everyone home.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I saluted him with my middle finger. “You know you could have prevented all of this by not hitting my brother, right?”

“He hit me first.” Will crossed his arms and leaned back against the door.

I froze in mid-air, the washcloth dripping water on the basin. “Are you serious right now? You’re blaming him?”

“He was acting irrational.” Will didn’t even crack a smile, show any sort of emotion other than disappointment that my brother would be so immature as to hit him in the face over my lack of a door.

“Wow.” I dabbed at the blood wincing as the tender flesh continued to grow before my eyes. Fantastic. “You really have changed.”

He frowned, uncrossed his arms. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I tossed the cloth into the sink making a splashing sound as I turned to face him, the man who used to hold all of my kisses, who used to hold my heart and swear his allegiance to every part of my body as he kissed every square inch of space and claimed it. “You’re like this—” I threw my hands up in confusion. “Adult!”

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Seaside Pictures Romance
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