Page 66 of Ruthless Chaos

Alexander’s voice cuts through the haze in my mind. It’s a strange question.

Has he been drinking too?

I shrug, not sure where to start.

“It’s not about you,” I say, and he deflates a little. I want him to know he isn’t special. “I would be this way with any guy, I think. I’ve never been around one this much.”

He narrows his eyes, like he can’t decide if he should smile or frown.

“You’ve never even had a boyfriend?”

I nod slowly, deciding how much of the truth I can tell him. I end up closer to the truth than I have been with anyone else. “My father homeschooled me all my life because we lived all over the world. I only ever spent a few months in an actual high school. Not much time to have a relationship.”

“No wonder you’re such a fucking weirdo.” His words sting.

I wrap my arms around myself, looking past him. The skyline glimmers in the distance, like fireflies in the night.

It’s beautiful. I wish I had the presence of mind to appreciate it.

The chair creaks as Alexander leans back, putting his hands behind his head.

“I moved around some,” he says. “I lived in three places during my childhood. Maybe four. Keeping friends was hard even then.”

Four times in my entire life sounds like a dream. The memories of my days spent alone in hotels, or relegated to rooms in loveless mansions bubble to the fore. “I moved three times in a single year once.”

“Sounds like no fun for a kid,” Alexander says.

I nod. “I got used to it eventually.”

He seems pensive, and for the first time I feel like he’s listening to me and not just manipulating the conversation to get what he wants. It’s…odd to see this side of him.

The moment passes quickly, though, and I remember who he is.

A monster.

It’s like the fact this conversation is too normal dawns on him too, for his expression darkens. If I’m ever going to get away from him, now’s my opportunity.

“I better get back to my room,” I say, standing quickly. “Th—”

Everything starts spinning again and my feet don’t want to work.

Alexander jumps from his chair, steadying me with his hands on my waist.

Tonight isn’t my night.

Instead of helping me stand up, he hooks an arm behind the back of my knees and hoists me into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck to feel safer in his embrace.

“How hard did you hit your head when you fell?” he asks.

He starts walking toward the elevator. My heart is in my throat.

“Not very hard. It’s probably the drink I had earlier.”

This close to him, I can’t escape the intoxicating and familiar smell of him—patchouli mixed with the woodiness of the forest. It envelops me.

I tip my head back, resting my head on his shoulder.

Alexander huffs, glaring at me.