Theo didn’t mean it that way, but my heart pounded, a liar about to be caught. I struggled in his hold. This was too real, too close.
“Let me in, Abigail. Let me protect you.”
Time froze, the deafening pops faded, and all I saw was Theo. His earnest eyes, blazing by the colorful fireworks’ light.
He didn’t know how much I wanted that. That was all I wanted, but he’d already taken so much from me. I couldn’t give him more.
I yanked my arm free with one final, painful tug, stumbling back into my double doors.
Outside my window, drunk girls stumbled on the pier, holding each other for leverage, bottles of champagne gleaming gold beneath the fireworks. Boys with their backs to the massive white yacht also held champagne, but theirs had sparklers shooting white and gold from the bottle.
“The after party is starting,” I said instead.
Theo narrowed his eyes. “You hate after parties.”
I shrugged. “A lot has changed, Theo.”
With my arms behind me, I opened my double doors.
Theo moved to follow me, so I put a hand out. “I don’t need a bodyguard to go on my yacht. I don’t need anything from you.”
Because you can’t give me what I need, your heart.
Theo’s jaw clenched, grinding his teeth, watching me until I disappeared out of my wing.
Thirteen
ABIGAIL
One word to describe a Crowne after party? Opulent. Wealth and excess were flaunted like the Louis Vuittons we used once then never again. We were kids raised without any worries or rules, and we stanched our boredom with debauchery.
To my left, three girls hooked arms and jumped off the boat, still in their glittering party dresses. Probably more than some people’s entire house payments… but that was the fun of it. In boarding school, I’d once seen a classmate use the back of a MacBook to write his notes, because he’d run out of paper. Now, one girl held a bottle of Cristal in her hand, and their laughter disappeared with the splash.
I kicked off my heels, wishing I’d had time to change. You didn’t wear your party clothes unless you planned on ruining them.
“Who let Reject on the boat?”
I paused at my “name,” turning to see the First Daughter doing a line of cocaine as one boy I recognized from some new teen drama did a line off her naked back. She stood up, pressing her nose, and shot me a glare.
Never mind it was my family’s boat; she never did get over the whole ripping out her extensions thing.
“I really like what you’ve done with your hair.” I did a circle with my hand, gesturing to her hair. Her glare dropped, uncertain. “It’s so brave to use rat hair for extensions.”
Her hair was a long, luxurious auburn. The best extensions money could buy.
She flipped me off, then leaned in as the teen heartthrob held his phone up to take a selfie, boobs out and all. She stuck her tongue out, holding up a bottle of Cristal. It wouldn’t go anywhere save our finstas. There was always an unspoken rule at
these parties: never share publicly.
Because as long as we didn’t end up on the news, our parents let us do anything.
If we did… well, I served as the cautionary tale.
I moved through the party, noticed and unnoticed at the same time. The Crowne shadow. The thump thump thump of electronic music pulsed an upbeat, luxurious music. Designer shoes hung from a chandelier. And a fear twisted in my gut that maybe I should’ve let Theo stay. What if my stalker was here, somewhere?
No. It was impossible.
He couldn’t be here. I eyed the guards at our docked yacht’s entrance. The after party to the Crowne Fourth of July was the most exclusive party in the world, even more so than the party that preceded it. Even if he’d somehow gotten into the Fourth of July party, he wouldn’t get here. Still unsettled, I headed toward the balcony to hopefully watch a drunk idiot make a fool of themselves.