Wicked Love | √

Twenty

IT'S the night before the heirs week long deadly sins party kicks off. The week of the darkest haunting. The week of Halloween. The week when all the deadliest sins are set free to play, and the veneer everyone wears is dropped and the monstrous desires that hide deep inside are finally brought to the surface.

But this week isn't just about the parties. It's also the week of the infamous fire. It only makes sense they celebrate and get wasted on the week when they took someone's life. Because who wants to remember something sad like death when they can focus on a week long bender instead?

If I was any normal student I would be busy planning my outfits to try and attend as many nights as I can, but especially lust night. It's the culmination of the entire week of debauchery and sinning. It's the biggest event of the year for students and truly the wildest night.

There's no part of me that will be attending any of the festivities, but at this moment I'd rather be lingerie shopping with Elizabeth in the city instead of sitting at home about to have weekly dinner with my family.

My fingers play with the necklace hooked around my neck absentmindedly as I sit in the living room. I haven't been able to stop touching the delicate chain since I found out who it came from. I want to be shocked, but somehow at the same time I'm not because if it had to come from anywhere or anyone of course it came from Preston Rothwell.

But I shake my head because I can't think about him anymore. I can't. So I push the thought of him aside and try to focus. My laptop is next to me and my textbook lies beside it wide open, but I've barely looked at it to be honest.

Ever since I left for college I've found it hard to study and focus when I'm back at home. I feel judged and like I'm sitting underneath a microscope waiting for my father to tell me what I'm doing wrong and my mother to instantly agree with him.

"Jamie, come help me!" my mother calls out to me from the kitchen. I roll my eyes at the nickname and stand with a silent huff as I head into the large chef's kitchen with my hands curled into fists. Nothing has even happened but I'm already feeling the need to be on the defense.

I spot my mother cutting up some vegetables for her salad and I slide into the stool by her side as the smell of roast lamb and potatoes fills the air. It smells like warmth and comfort, which is funny cause this house is least comforting place that's ever existed.

"What?" I ask with an annoyed sigh.

Her hazel eyes lock on me with a stern glare. "Did you forget all your manners?" she chastises with a quick dice of her knife. 

"What do you need?" I ask again using all the strength in my body to not roll my eyes and not sound as irritated as I feel.

"I just wanted to know how you're doing? How are your friends...and classes...and such?" she inquires but it doesn't take a genius to hear the real question sleuthing behind her fake niceties.

I grab the small mixing bowl and whisk the dressing not wanting the oil to separate in the vinaigrette. My father always gets all pissy when it does because everything that leaves this kitchen should be in perfect condition when it meets him at the table. Even when he doesn't lift a finger to help.

"I'm doing fine, mother," I tell her. "Anna and Liz are great as well. And you can ask about me about my tutoring with Preston if you want instead of getting your intel from Aiden," I say pointedly calling her out.

We haven't even had contact since yesterday at the library, but again no one needs to know about that. And a day doesn't sound like much. To anyone else it really sounds like nothing. But no one knows that before everything went to shit he contacted me daily. Even when I didn't want him to. Even if I ignored for days on end he would text me. Always suggesting books he thinks I would like. Sending me links to articles he thinks I would find interesting. Texting me and asking me what I need help on or what we can work on next.