Into the Stars (USC Series Book #2)

chapter thirty-one

INTO THE STARS
———
BRINLEY

"Are we almost ready, bitches?" Tyson's voice bellows from the foyer of our apartment, breaking the quiet Brooklynn and I were getting ready in. Apart from the muted music streaming out of my phone speakers, the rest of our apartment was dead silent.

Not anymore.

"Tyson!" I scold, narrowing my eyes at him through the vanity mirror when I see him in my bedroom door frame. "I could've fucked up my mascara."

He waves a flippant hand at me. "You'll survive, but I don't think I will if we are late."

With an eye roll, I continue working on my makeup, finishing the last swipe of mascara. I stand from my vanity. We are hardly going to be late; I realize when I check my phone. Tyson is just being dramatic, per usual.

I saunter into the kitchen, glancing in our living room and only noticing half the amount of people that are supposed to be in here.

Aidan is sitting right beside Brooklynn, utterly entranced by everything she is doing. He stares at her with the utmost love and affection, and I do not know how I feel about it. Tyson, however, seems to be third-wheeling. The news plays on the TV, the reporter droning on about something boring and all three of them watch it with uninterested looks.

Sipping from my glass of water, my eyebrows tip down slightly. "Where is everyone else?"

Tyson is the one that looks up at me, his gaze instantly focusing on my chest. I clear my throat, raising my eyebrow accusingly when he looks into my eyes. All I get in response is a lazy smirk. "Camron asked Holden to help set up. He dragged Malachi along because he is acting weird and wanted him to get out of the house."

Malachi is acting weird? I try not to fixate on that and I try even harder to stop the reaction my body has at just hearing his name.

It has been six weeks since we got back from the snow. Six fucking weeks. And you want to know what happened? I got ghosted. Well, not technically, since we agreed on specific terms and conditions, but Malachi has ignored my existence since that night in the warehouse. Minus the occasional hookups either of us initiates when we have an itch that needs to be scratched, we have barely spoken. Our meetups typically go the same way: we kiss, we have sex, and then one of us leaves.

I can't say I blame him, but it stings. Even if we would not be the best of friends, I was at least expecting him to be a friend. And now I don't even have that. I just have someone to text when I am horny. But it is what it is. I can't force anything.

I hum in response, walking back into my room for some finishing touches. I tug down the hem of my dress. As usual, I had about a thousand options to wear tonight, but none of them I wanted to wear. So instead of making my indecisive ass choose, Brooklynn chose for me. Honestly, I forgot I owned this dress, but I can't say I am unhappy about her decision.

The black dress just reaches my upper thigh with a slit on one side, displaying my long legs. It clings to every curve and the puffy long sleeves provide some semblance of warmth, even if it is spring in California.

I fluff my hair, the faux curls falling down my back and over my shoulders. Brooklynn appears in my doorway, a smile pulling at her lips when she looks at me. "Ready to fuck up this party?" she asks with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes to go with her playful smirk.

I walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her and still towering over her even in heels. "Born ready."

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