Midnight Muse

“Yes,” I huff, frustrated. “Because of you, Slate.”

Stepping aside, I allow him to enter the apartment. Rory’s already settled back onto the couch, all of the fear fallen from her shoulders as she’s now engrossed in something on her phone. Or someone, if her shit-eating grin is anything to go by.

“Neither of you answered my texts, so I came to see what all the screaming was,” Slate says easily, though when he sees what we’re watching his face lights up. “I can’t believe you’re watching Red Grave! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have definitely canceled this party to protect the both of you.” He’s distracted now, peering down into the popcorn bowl, frowning at its emptiness.

“Party?” Rory questions, and now she’s the one frowning. “Ace didn’t tell me you were having a party.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you weren’t answering your phone,” Slate sing-songs.

“Well, he could’ve been the one to come get us,” she responds with a pout. Her gaze is already glued back to her phone and I watch the way her eyes widen a little at the messages he must have sent her because she’s shutting her screen off and hiding her cellphone in her lap.

I can feel the heat from her cheeks from where I stand, five feet away.

I predict another couch episode happening in the very near future.

“Someone has to play host,” Slate grins wolfishly. “Besides, if I sent him over here, he wouldn’t have come back. There’s too much temptation on this side of the wall.”

Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest. “And you’re less likely to be tempted?” I question flatly. I know Slate too well; his cheeky attitude is second nature. He looks like he’s ready to settle in, scouring the coffee table littered with candy wrappers for more. He truly looks like a vulture on the hunt, cocoa eyes sharp with precision as he sorts through the brightly colored foils.

“I knew you had your eye on me, Quinnie,” Slate winks and I gag. It rolls off of his shoulders like any of my teasing does, before he’s reaching down and plucking a candy off of the table. My brows scrunch in confusion because I swear that Rory and I had eaten all of the chocolates while we were engrossed with worry while the murderer in the red hood tortured his second kill. “Want to be my date to the party? I know you’ve already been in my bedroom but we can make sure you’re well-acquainted tonight.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I thought you liked that,” Slate flings back, and although his tone doesn’t suggest anything of the sort, I can’t help it that my mind turns to Knox.

Yes, he’s been completely and utterly irritating since day one, and no, I don’t like it one bit.

I wonder how many times I have to keep repeating that before I believe it.

I can’t pretend that I have no idea what Slate is talking about. I shove the thoughts from my mind before I can think about it too hard. I’ve had way too much wine to be thinking at all right now, yet somehow also not enough.

I suck my teeth. “I think we need more drinks.”

“May I interest either of you in a seltzer? A vodka cran? How about a tequila shot?” Slate rattles off drinks, eyes already gleaming with the few that he’s downed. “Need my best drinking buddies with me.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and I scoff in response.

“I thought you lived with your two best drinking buddies,” I retort, more than ready to plop back onto the couch and finish up the movie.

Slate waves flippantly, searching for more sweets. He looks seconds away from sucking the popcorn kernels into his mouth for a taste of the salty, buttery goodness still coating their shells. He refrains, luckily for us. “Ace is busy moping and Knox isn’t home yet.”

Before I can tell my brain to shut the fuck up, it’s already wondering what the stoic man might be doing. Has he stayed late on campus, working on a project? Is he taking a night drive out past the city limits?

Is he on a date?

The last thought makes my mouth sour and I look at Rory to see how much she’s been influenced by Ace’s texts and Slate’s words.

It really is a shame that she’s looking at me with wide eyes, the pleading pout more than an answer to my unspoken question. She looks like an innocent deer, with her eyes round like that. I don’t want to give in, but maybe attending the party will help get my mind off of Knox, and more importantly, off of the movie that I’m sure to have nightmares about tonight. It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway, with the music blasting through the wall.

Rory knows before I even open my mouth that I’m going to agree and she’s springing from the couch, squealing happily. She rounds the sofa and Slate stumbles back, startled by whatever seems to be possessing her right now.

She grabs my wrist and tows me towards her room. She hardly looks over her shoulder as she calls back to Slate, standing confused in the middle of our living room. “We’ll be over in a bit, Slate. We’ve got to get ready!”

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming,” Ace smirks when he opens the door. A rush of heat wafts from the apartment behind him and the music is ten times louder. So loud that I hardly hear his quip.

The way that his ocean eyes trace Rory’s body, filled with fire, makes even me shiver. He’s looking at her like he’s going to devour her and worship her at the same time.

It makes my chest ache.

Slate doesn’t seem phased by the public display of eye-fucking we’re witnessing. He shoves his way past Ace, my wrist firmly in his grip. The moss green of his shirt stretches tightly across the muscles of his back and I’m surprised he hasn’t already taken it off to use his washboard abs to gather the plethora of girls stuffed into their apartment.