The Void Between Stars: Book 4 Of The Orion Series

Star Struck And Stables

[Trigger Warning: passing mention of eating disorder]

"Oh my God it's Scott—oof!"

Scott laughs at us. Amy was currently rubbing her side, the side I had just jabbed my elbow into. She's glaring at me. I don't care though; I turn to her and whine like a child, waving my hands over my head.

"Amy! On the flight over you promised me that you weren't going to be weird!"

Scott is now cracking up. He claps a few times and doubles over.

"That was weird!" I continued to whine.

"Does she do this often?" Scott asks between laughter.

"Yes," we say together. It simply makes Scott laugh more.

I pinch the bridge of my nose briefly and then adjust my glasses. "She said literally the exact same thing when she met me for the first time."

Amy puts a hand on her hip and tisks, turning to face me. "It was not literally. I said, 'Oh my God it's Orion Bauwens' because your name isn't Scott Davis, dickhead."

Scott cracks up again and we both look at him. He's absolutely dying. "Holy shit, it's like there's two of you! She's like a damn photocopy of you!"

"We know," we say together again. Proving his point made Scott barely be able to breathe.

Amy rolls her eyes. "We get that a lot."

Wiping a tear from his eye, he snatches up Amy's suitcases and grins at her. "Alright, the grand tour."

As we walk in I can't help but unabashedly gawk. Amy is looking equally stunned. We both follow Scott into his regal mansion. Because it really is regal.

The floor is a white marble of some sort. It feels solid beneath my feet, and I wonder how old this place is. The walls are white and cream with gold trim. Everything is accented with reds; the drapes that cover the huge windows are red with golden tassels. There are a few plush chairs situated down the expansive halls, also red, accented with gold.

Craning my neck up, I can't help but quietly gasp at the ceiling. The molding is cream, pristine. Golden flur de lis accent every other tile. Hanging periodically are golden chandeliers. My eyes drop back down, and I take note of the various paintings that liter the walls. They're very, well, British. Men dressed in horse riding gear, posing next to their horses. Dainty women with parasols taking walks. Off the top of my head I don't recognize any artists, but I'm sure these are all famous, and I'm sure they cost a fortune.

"Holy shit," I finally tell Scott, looking at him wide-eyed. "You didn't tell me you lived in a museum."

He laughs. "Not a museum."

"Fine--fucking, Buckingham Palace."

Now Amy joins in on the laughter, although shyly.

The doors are all thick wood, a polished honey color. My sister and I stay quiet as Scott leads us around. Occasionally we pass people, and I assume they're grounds workers. Personally I was morally opposed to maids and such. However, if I lived in a place of this magnitude, I'd need help.

"Ballroom," Scott said, throwing open some double doors that were in the upper east wing. He goes to shut them but I bust in, spinning in circles as I drink it in. Amy scurries after me while Scott simply leans against the door, smirking.

I stop in the middle of the room. The huge room. The room I swear could have been the set from the movie Anna Karenina. I laugh and bring my gaze back to Scott. When I speak, my voice echoes. "Holy shit, dude!"