the dark, wooden doors. He crawled into my bed with their sweet, flowery, needy scents all over him.
Why was I being so apologetic and remorseful? Why would I mess this thing up with Josh to try to soothe Knight’s wounded ego? Why had I let him hinder the entire progress I’d made these past four months, just because he wasn’t comfortable with my new life?
The only thing I was at fault for was slapping him, and that was months ago. But I shouldn’t have done that, and he deserved an apology. But that was the extent of it.
Getting kicked out of gyms, nearly falling off window ledges—why was I indulging his vindictiveness?
Suddenly, my blood simmered with heat. All this time, I’d been trying to apologize for something Knight shoved in my face on a daily basis when we’d lived close to each other.
I excused myself from the adults’ company, waltzing into the Spencers’ kitchen and helping myself to a glass of spicy red port specially prepared by their Portuguese vintner, because of course, when you were a Spencer, having your own vintner was a thing.
I caught Daria—blonde, tall, and too Gigi Hadid to look real—and Penn, who basically looked like Leonardo DiCaprio circa 1996, making out against the kitchen counter and pretended not to notice their picture-ready existence. The doorbell chimed behind us, and they disconnected on a grunt, panting hard and smiling at each other.
I wanted to throw up into my port. Not because I didn’t like them—I did, I loved them, they were a part of my family—but because I knew what, and who, was coming through that door.
“It’s Knight! I’ve been dying to catch up with him.” Daria clapped excitedly, leaving Penn and me in the kitchen together without even sparing me a hello.
We nodded at each other. He leaned against the kitchen counter, jerking his chin my way.
“How’s college?”
I smiled, pointing at him.
He shrugged. “I’m happy wherever she is.” His eyes drifted to the space Daria had occupied a second ago.
That sounded like something Josh would say. Suddenly, I missed Josh. Josh, whose only sin was to be the cause of my rift with Knight.
I unlocked my phone and sent him a quick message, in answer to the ones he’d been bombarding me with.
Luna: Everything is great. Sorry I’ve been silent—a lot has been going on, but it’s okay now. We’re just starting dinner. I miss you, too, and I really can’t wait to get back to Boon. x
When I looked up, the kitchen was suddenly full of people, including Knight, his mother (Rosie), his dad (Dean), and his little brother (Lev). Lev and Racer sneaked together to the great room with Bailey on their heels.
Rosie squeezed me into her wheezing chest and kissed the crown of my head. Dean narrowed his eyes at me playfully, ruffling the hair I’d tried to straighten for the past couple hours.
“Having fun at Boon, Lu?”
I circled my index and thumb in an OK.
“Good, good.”
When it was Knight’s turn to acknowledge me, and all eyes were on us, he tilted his chin up in hello. He didn’t take a second look at my dress, or my made-up face, or my dolled-up hair. Just gave me a nonchalant wink and moved to the port, helping himself to a generous glass. The blush on his cheeks indicated he’d already slipped a shot or four before they’d arrived. He wore a white V-neck shirt, a navy blue blazer, and camel-hued skinny jeans, his hair a delicious, unkempt mess. He was thumbing his phone, not really paying attention to anyone, uncharacteristically distant.
Vaughn, who now stood next to me, looked between us and cleared his throat, silently asking what the hell was going on. Knight scratched his eyebrow, tossing his phone in the air and catching it with precise speed and accuracy.
“Anything to share?” Vaughn grumbled.
Knight threw his entire drink down his throat when our parents weren’t looking, clucking his tongue with a devilish smirk. “Sorry, not into sharing. You never know where shit’s been, you know?”
Vaughn whistled low, looking between us. “And so, the little innocent creature has fangs. The plot thickens.”
I swallowed.
Knight grinned. “Someone’s thick here, all right, but it’s got nothing to do with the plot.”
“You’re butthurt,” Vaughn mused.
“Nah. The only butts in danger of hurting are the ones I’ll be plowing into when we go to Arabella’s party after this boring dinner.” Knight spat out the word boring like I was the one who made it so.