Page 121 of Pretty Mess

“Oh well then, obviously, I’ll do as I’m told. God, this is boring.”

We’re standing in the same room where I saw Mac for the first time, and as I look around, I can almost see us as we were—Julian and I here, and Mac a distant stranger at the poker table. The poker table has been removed for the event, and a band now stands in its place playing jazz. Gold and black balloons and streamers decorate the room and move gently in the breeze.

It's the same but different. I smile slightly. A bit like me and Mac because he’s no longer that cold stranger. Even as I think that I look for him. He’d left me with Julian and disappeared into the increasingly raucous crowd about half an hour ago, muttering about needing to speak to another member. I finally locate him. He’s talking to a group of men and looks very fine in his dark suit.

“What’s that mark on your cheek?” Julian mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

I smile at him. “Tyler. He turned up at the flat.”

“Shit.” A few people nearby glance at us, but when he engages the starers with a glacial smile, they turn away. “What happened?”

I shrug. “He tried to punch Mac. Mac had better luck with him. Then I got in the middle, and Tyler whacked me. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“What did Mac say? Does he know about your brother’s situation?”

“He does now.”

“Oh no.” His forehead pleats and he bites his lip.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Why do you look so worried?”

He smooths his expression. “No reason.”

I sigh loudly. “Julian, just tell me.”

“Well, it’s not wise to let daylight in on the magic, so to speak. These men don’t want to know real life because we’re selling them a dream of compliance and someone always willing. A happy hole if you like.”

“It’s not like that with me and—” I bite down hard on my lip.

He turns to me, raising his eyebrow. “What did you say?”

I edge my finger around my collar. “Nothing.”

“We’re going to address this later at a better time.”

“Of course we are,” I say glumly which startles a laugh out of him.

As they’ve done a hundred times this evening, my eyes travel to Mac. He glances up at me as if he feels my attention, and I smile and give him a very subtle wink. One of his eyebrows rises a millimetre, and I can read his thoughts exactly.Cheeky.The lines around his mouth ease into something that might be called a smile. My chest warms, because I love that I can distract him, even in a room full of people.

Suddenly, his eyes widen. His gaze is fixed on the room’s entrance, and I turn to look. A new boy has entered the room.

He’s beautiful, with thick, blond hair and clear, tanned skin. His lips are pouty and his eyes very blue. His lithe, long body is draped in a beautiful suit, and it’s not unlike what Julian and I are wearing, but something sets him apart, as if he’s wearing couture and on a runway.

But it’s not his appearance that arrests me. It’s Mac’s reaction. His mouth drops open slightly when he locks gazes with the boy. The younger man inclines his head, and Mac looks away. Mac’s face is closed once more, but I know him. I can see a nerve ticking in his cheek, and that startled recognition I saw on his face makes something cold trickle down my spine. An old Shakespearean phrase comes to mind, making me shiver—something wicked this way comes.

Even as I watch, the young man glides through the crowd and ends up standing in front of Mac. He raises his head almost shyly and for a long moment they stare at each other, and then Mac’s face softens into a smile. Nausea curdles in my belly because that’smysmile—the soft, crooked grin where he looks almost fond. I thought for some silly reason that I was the only one he looked at like that.

“Who’s that?” I whisper to Julian, who’s been exchanging smiles with an obviously smitten man.

Julian subtly turns his gaze to follow mine. “Oh, that’s Brandon. I wasn’t aware that he knew Mac.” He looks the boy up and down. “He looks well. I haven’t seen him in ages. Word had it that a bloke was keeping him for a while. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason.”

I covertly examine Mac and the boy again. Brandon. The men that Mac was talking to have gone and it’s now just the two of them. Mac is saying something, and Brandon is staring up athim hanging on to his words. There’s a hungry, almost greedy expression on his face. I stare at Mac, willing him to look back at me, to connect in the knowing, humorous way we’ve done since the start.

But he’s watching Brandon intently, and I can’t read his expression. Even as I watch, Brandon reaches out his hand and sets it on Mac’s arm. I wait for Mac to throw it off and say something sharp, but he doesn’t. He stays completely still for a second and then he reaches up and puts his hand over Brandon’s and leans in saying something.

I swallow hard and then make myself look around the room. I even post a smile on my face as if this is the best party I’veeverattended. I want to look as carefree as possible so if Mac looks for me, he’ll think that I’m not bothered. But when I look over, he’s still talking to Brandon. I frown. There’s an intensity between them that I can almost feel. It’s an awareness and a deeper connection that zings between them and it’s as bright as the sun. Maybe no one else would notice but I do and that’s because it’s the way I think about me and Mac. Jealousy sears through me so fast I feel almost dizzy.