exact shade of green my face turned.
“I think… yeah, I think another one is coming.” Despite all her mockery, even Sugar cringes away from it, fixing her eyes to another spot in the bathroom.
I take some mercy on us both. “Come on, let’s go fuck off and let our girl do her thing.”
Sugar doesn’t need to be asked twice, and we leave Abby be, closing the door softly behind us. I watch her once again take in my room, walking to the shelves and eyeing it all up. It’s barely two in the afternoon, so the sun is pouring in from the French doors, illuminating the silhouette of her hair in a halo. I know from dicking around on my phone earlier that classes ended up being cancelled for the day because of the ice storm, so we’re not even technically skipping anymore.
“When was this taken?” she asks, eyes fixed to the photo of me at the Briar Cliffs.
I step up beside her, thinking. “The summer before sophomore year.”
“This one?” She points to a photo of me on the field, taken after Preston won the championship against Sparrowood.
“Last year.”
“You aren’t here much,” she guesses, shifting her eyes around. “Almost nothing in here is you.” She whips her head around to look at me, eyes rueful. “Not that it isn’t nice. Your house is unbelievable.” When she sees the grimace on my face, she asks, “What?”
“I don’t know.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I’ve never been embarrassed about being rich before,” I admit.
She blinks at me, taken aback. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to judge me by the fact I’m… not rich.”
“I don’t,” I assure her. “You know I don’t.”
She nods, eyes wandering over to the balcony. “You could… I mean, if you want. You don’t have to.”
“I could what?”
“Show me around,” she offers, bending to open her bag. “I could take my camera and—”
“Yeah,” I blurt, already reaching for her hand. “There’s really no one here. Just my mom and Liesel. Come on.”
I show her the second floor first, avoiding my mom’s wing. If she’s having a bad day, then she’s having a bad day. She wouldn’t want someone meeting her—someone special to me—when she’s like that. I’ll have to get away at some point to go see her.
“This is our best guest room, I think,” I say, leading Sugar into a suite right down the hall. “You could stay here tonight.”
I’ve been thinking about how to broach the topic, but this seems best, showing her the enormous room, decked out with pillows and soft blankets. I can have Liesel stoke a fire in here, stock up the bathroom, make it real nice.
Real far away from me.
Sugar turns a small circle, not at all unlike Abby had a couple hours ago. “It’s amazing,” she says, stopping to meet my gaze. “But… do I have to? Stay in here?” She walks a couple paces toward me, head canted to the side a bit. “Can I just stay with you?”
Fuck. Thank god. “Yeah, of course. I just wasn’t sure if you’d…”
“I do,” she assures, sending me a soft smile.
I drag her down to the kitchens, where she stares owlishly at all the stainless steel. “Do you cook?” she asks, running a fingertip over the granite counter.
I dig my hands into my pockets, rocking back on my heels. “Point of fact, I could make you the meanest bowl of cereal you’ve ever fucking seen.”
She barks a soft laugh. “An appetite? After what we just witnessed up there? Hard pass.”
Good point.
I take her downstairs next, which is truly next level. I watch her take in the swimming pool, the sauna, the wet bar, the media room, all with a perfectly neutral face. Every now and then, I’ll hear the click of her camera’s shutter and look up to see it pointed at me through various baffling angles.
I raise an eyebrow. “If you wanted me to pose, you should have told me.”
“I don’t want you to pose,” she replies, leveling me with a sure gaze. “Much like my art, I prefer you without all the bullshit artifice.”
It’s a shame. I could take some really hot pictures. But it seems like her lens only finds me when I’m trapped in some pointlessly complicated tangle of emotion. It doesn’t bother me. I’d already given her permission to make me her subject, in any form that might entail.
“This? Here?” I point to my chest. “You’re seriously underestimating my