Page 17

O n Monday morning I wake after another fretful sleep. As much as Alexander did cheer up my mood, I still felt my mom’s absence, and the loneliness it left behind, more than ever. I called my dad just to talk about her, and I know he heard the sadness in my voice, because an hour later he was knocking on my door with a bag of takeout and her favorite movie in hand. We spent a few hours on the sofa, eating, watching, and just missing her together.

When Evie got home he politely excused himself, saying he needed to be up early to do some work, and it wasn’t long until Evie did the same. She has classes early on a Monday, which is why I find her floating around the kitchen when I leave my room. She is already fully awake and dressed, and takes pity on me by pouring me a cup of coffee, since Jake isn’t here.

“Here, you look like you need this,” she coos, passing me a large mug, and I take it gratefully, as she grabs her bag of books and nods towards the coffee table. “Oh a parcel came for you by the way, I left it over there.” I follow her stare as she rushes toward the front door. “I’ve gotta go, but text me later and we can grab lunch if you’re free.”

I’m nodding as she darts from the apartment with a slam of the door, before I move around the coffee table and take a seat on the sofa, looking at the parcel in confusion. I haven’t ordered anything, and I can’t think of anyone else who would send me something, especially something that looks like this. The box is a mix of pinks and reds, looking fancier than anything I have ever received, and I haven’t even opened it yet. And it’s only then that I know who it must be from.

Alexander.

Placing my coffee down, I grab some scissors and make quick work of opening the box, careful not to rip it, only to be greeted by more red and pink wrapping. There is a hoard of tissue paper with a small white envelope placed neatly on top. I grab it and rip it open, curious to see what he sent me, if it even is from him, but I doubt there is anyone else that would send me something so fancy.

To: Aubree,

For your curiosity and the nights that need some competition.

From: Alexander.

I shake my head because I knew it, but still I place the note aside and rip at the tissue paper in anticipation, only for my jaw to drop in surprise.

Sex toys. So many sex toys.

There are vibrators, a variety of lube, and a bunch of stuff I’m not even sure of what it does or where it’s for, and anger starts to build inside of me.

That arrogant, manwhoring asshole!

I grab the note, toss it back inside the box, and then slam it shut, before storming to my room, and tossing the whole thing beneath my desk. How dare he. How fucking dare he take something so vulnerable about myself and turn it into whatever the fuck this is.

Grabbing the clothes I laid out earlier, I quickly get dressed, put on some makeup and then pull my hair back into a clip, before slipping on my boots and snatching my bag up from near the door. Fury burns inside of me as I head to my car, and I drive across campus until I reach Hockey Row. By the time I pull up, I spy Alexander and some of his teammates heading back toward his house, looking as if they are getting back from a workout.

Nova is up front, but I spot Archer, Jake, and Alexander not far behind. Their captain doesn’t pay me any attention as I step out of the car and slam my door, heading straight inside, but I see the other two eyeing me as I glare at their teammate.

“Morning, Bree, everything okay?” Jake asks, and I don’t miss the worry in his tone, as I can only presume he is thinking something is wrong with Evie.

“Yep, just here to talk to your teammate,” I snap, and I see Alexander frown, slowing his pace, as a smirk spreads across Archer’s mouth.

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” he sings, coming to a stop in front of me, as Jake looks between Alexander and I, but I push past them both and stalk towards their goalie, slapping him hard across the face. “Oh shit,” Archer adds, now only sensing this is not a joking matter.

When Alexander meets my stare, he searches it, before looking to his teammates. “Fuck off,” he demands, somehow sensing we need privacy, and the two of them promptly disappear, but my rage is still alive and present.

“How dare you!” I yell in his face. “How fucking dare you! I told you those things in confidence because I thought you were my friend, not so you could use them as some baseless joke to try and get in my pants,” I scoff, still so fucking angry that he would do something like this.

“What? No. Aubree, I am your friend,” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Please, you don’t want to be my friend, you want to fuck me and add me to the no doubt endless fucking notches on your bedpost. Why else would you send me all that fucking shit?” I’m not sure I have ever used so many curse words all at once, but I feel the situation calls for it.

“No, Aubree, it wasn’t like that I swear, I just thought...”

I cut him off again. “I know what you thought, it’s exactly what you’ve thought since the night we met. What? You thought you could break me down and I’d fall at your feet like the rest of them.”

“No, of course not,” he tries again, but I’m still not done.

“Save your breath, I was right about you all along, you’re nothing but a playboy, and whatever friendship I thought we had is over, so fuck you.”

I don’t wait for a response, turning to leave, ignoring his pleas and his apologies, as I get back in my car and drive away, leaving him staring after me at the side of the road.

The anger stays with me the entire day, throughout all my morning classes, the lunch that I avoid going to the cafeteria for, and my afternoon classes too. I spy Archer and Daemon heading toward the art building after my last class, and from the look in both their eyes, I know they know. I saw how close Alexander is with his housemates, which I guess by proxy includes Daemon too, and I feel even more stupid than I did this morning. Ignoring their attempts at getting my attention, I storm back to my car and drive straight home. If Alexander thinks I will be going to his house for our tutoring session then he is fucking crazy. I want nothing to do with him after this.

A thought I hope he has caught onto, after he started to blow up my phone with apologies after I left, before I promptly blocked his number. I didn’t read any of his messages, nor do I care if he sent any more after I blocked him. As far as I am concerned, Alexander can take back his box of sex toys and use them to go fuck himself!

When I get back to the apartment there is another box waiting outside my door, and I grind my teeth so hard that I’m surprised they don’t crack. Stomping toward the door, I glare at the box in a mixture of disgust and annoyance, that fury from earlier once again burning red hot. This box is a lot bigger than this morning, and it’s heavy as I snatch it up. Unlocking my door, I storm inside. Does that arrogant playboy really think he can just buy my forgiveness after what he did?

I knew his type, I called it the moment I laid eyes on him, but when he started to show me something different I believed it. I let what I thought I knew be overtaken by what he was showing me, and I guess that’s my own fault. I should have known confiding in him was a mistake and well, lesson officially learned. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Heading straight to my room for privacy, I’m not taking any chances after the first one, I shut the door behind me and sit down on my bed. This box looks just as fancy as the one this morning, except a lot more personal. There is no design or logo, or any identifying markers as to what it could be, just a bright white box with a large black satin bow. There is no stamp on it so I can only presume a courier dropped it off instead, and I stare at it in wonder, trying to decide what offensive thing could be housed inside.

Deciding there is no point delaying the inevitable, I pull off the bow and break open the box, scoffing when I spy another envelope. Like the box, it’s a lot more elegant than the one this morning, again as if more thought was put into it, and I frown in confusion when I spy two fancy letter S’s on the back, engraved into a gold-melted seal. I carefully peel it open, pulling out a fancy cream piece of card with gold foiling around the edges, with a handwritten note taking up the rest of the space.

Aubree,

Apologies for the delay in getting this to you.

My son was adamant after we spoke on the phone last week that I was to send this ASAP.

He isn’t used to not getting his own way, as I’m sure you know by now.

Anyway, I hope you love what he picked out for you, it will be an honor to see you in my clothes.

Let me know if you need anything else.

All my love, Sinclair.

PS: Thank you for giving him your friendship, I really do hope to meet you soon.

I read the note once, twice, three times, and still the words don’t change. It’s from Alexander’s mother, as in Sinclair Striker, as in my favorite model and designer, as in my fucking idol. My heart begins to slam against my ribcage, my hands shaking, as I place the note aside and gently dig into the tissue paper.

The box is literally huge, and when I start to look in it I realize why it was so heavy. Piles of clothes rest inside, varying in pastel colors, and it takes me several moments of hyperventilating to look through all of them and realize she has sent me her entire unreleased spring collection. Tops, skirts, pants, dresses, all of it resting beautifully inside the box, and all of it in my size. My hands continue to shake as I inspect each piece in utter and total awe and confusion, because what the fuck?

How did she know my size?

How did she know my address?

The questions are pointless because I know how, it was him. Alexander did this, and it’s only then I recall the note. Reaching for it again to reread it, I notice where she says he arranged this after we spoke on the phone. That was on Thursday, before I told him I was a virgin, or even joked about hearing Evie and Jake through the wall. So does that mean he arranged this gift before the other one?

Was it really a cruel joke to him? Or did he genuinely think the gift would be something I’d enjoy, just like this one?

Those thoughts are still running rampant in my head an hour later, as I’m trying each piece of clothing on. Which is how Evie finds me, standing in front of the mirror in a purple silk dress, admiring its beauty.

A knock interrupts my admiration, and when I shout for her to come in, she pushes open the door before coming to a halt. “Holy shit, you look like a fucking model in that dress, Bree,” she gushes, and heat stains my cheeks, as I flick my stare between her and the mirror.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scold, shaking my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious, but Evie moves to my side and joins me in staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“I am not being ridiculous, you look insanely stunning, where did you get this?” she asks, trailing her gaze over me, and I wish she hadn’t caught me fawning over the dress, given who it was from.

“Alexander’s mother sent it to me,” I start slowly, wondering what she will make of all this. “He found out I was a fan of hers, so I guess he arranged for her to have some stuff sent to me,” I sigh, gesturing to the box on the bed, and she shakes her head, as she moves toward it.

“Of course he did,” she laughs, as if she isn’t surprised in the slightest, as she snatches up the note and reads it, before slowly surveying the items strewn across my bed and the box. “This is so typically him,” she adds knowingly, and I can’t help but push for more information.

“What do you mean?”

“Gift giving is his love language,” she explains, gently moving some of the stuff aside so she can take a seat on my bed, still looking through each item with as much awe as I did. “He’s been like this ever since I’ve known him, always going out of his way to get things if he knows they will make you happy. For my first anniversary with Jake, he booked us an all expenses paid weekend in the Hamptons, because Jake couldn’t afford anything at the time. It was completely over the top and expensive, but that’s just what he’s like. It’s what he does when he cares, so welcome to the crazy Reign Club, I guess.”

A bitter taste coats the back of my tongue as I listen to her talk, a lump forming at the back of my throat, as I wonder if I reacted too harshly to the other gift I received today. This second gift was clearly arranged first, so he didn’t just randomly decide to send me a box of sex toys, he did it because he genuinely thought they would help me. Just like he picked out these clothes because he knew I would love them. Turning back to the mirror, I no longer feel like I deserve to wear such a beautiful piece of clothing, not after what I did to him.

A thought that must be etched across my face because Evie asks, “So, is this his apology for whatever made you slap him?”

My head whips around in surprise. “You heard about that?”

She rolls her eyes at my question. “Of course I did, that’s the power of the girlfriend privilege, Bree, you should know that.” She is smirking at me knowingly, and I can’t help but sigh, as I move to take off the dress.

“No, this isn’t an apology,” I say slowly, letting the silk fall from my skin and already missing the comfort of it. My mom would have loved it just as much as I do. “But it does make me believe I may have overreacted this morning,” I add truthfully, and her smile softens.

“Well, that’s another great thing about Reign, he will forgive you, so don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know him,” she replies with a shrug, standing up and moving to leave. “Oh, and because he’s at the front door begging to be let inside,” she coos, before slipping out of the room without another word, as my eyes widen in a panic.

Fuck.

What the hell is he doing here?

I quickly grab some comfies from my drawer, some shorts and an oversized soft pink sweatshirt, before quickly stuffing all of the clothes back into the box and shoving it inside my closet. Only once I catch my breath do I leave my room, and find Evie sitting at the breakfast bar with a smirk on her face, Alexander still nowhere in sight.

“You didn’t let him in?” I ask in wonder, and she shakes her head no.

“Of course not, he pissed off my friend,” she replies simply, and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. “Don’t worry though, I’m sure he’s still out there waiting,” she laughs, and I nod at her with a smile, before moving toward the front door.

Stealing my breath, I open it and find Alexander pacing back and forth in front of the door, with two brown bags in his hands, only coming to a stop when he sees me. His eyes are a mixture of panic and sorrow, but still they trail over me from head to toe, before he meets my stare and swallows thickly.

“Aubree, I’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes out. “I’m a fucking idiot, and I never should have crossed the line like that,” he adds, and I hold my hand up to stop him from speaking, making him pause instantly.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you like that, you didn’t deserve that,” I reply softly, still surprised I even did that, since I have never hit anyone in my life, but I was just so mad.

“No, I did deserve it, like I said, I’m a fucking idiot,” he repeats, and I smile softly at his assessment. “I’m just so used to getting people stuff if I think they need it, even when they don’t ask for it, and I know it was unconventional, but I thought it would…” he trails off, as if he doesn’t know how to explain himself, but it’s okay, because I think I get it now.

“I got your other gift,” I say sheepishly, and his stare searches mine in confusion. “The one from your mother, it was waiting for me when I got home,” I explain, and only then does he nod slowly in understanding.

“Shit, I forgot about that one,” he replies, fidgeting with the back of his neck. “I hope it’s okay, I know it's a lot, but you said you love her clothes, and I just thought…” he trails off again, and it’s only now I see what Evie meant.

I know exactly what he thought. I told him I was a fan and loved the clothes, and he arranged to have me sent some of them, no questions asked. Not just because he knew I’d love them, but because he could, because he has the means to. I have no doubt that even if his mother wasn’t Sinclair Striker, that he would have still gone out of his way to get the clothes to me.

The same can be said of the parcel I received this morning. It wasn’t his way of being perverted or trying to fuck me, it was because I confided in him about not being sure where to start, and he thought those things might help guide me in a way that doesn’t involve someone else. It was about me being comfortable in my own sexuality without relying on another person, not for any other reason other than because he wanted to help.

“The clothes are amazing, I love them, and although they are definitely too much, I appreciate the gesture anyway,” I tell him honestly, and for the first time since this morning he offers me a shy smile. “And the other stuff, I get it now, I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“I really didn’t have any ulterior motive, I just wasn’t thinking how it might come across, clearly,” he scoffs, and I once again hear the panic in his tone. “Forgive me?” he pleads, and I nod with a smile.

“Truce?” I ask, hoping he will forgive me just as much in return, and this time his smile is blinding.

“Anything for you, Trouble,” he breathes, sounding relieved, as he holds out one of the bags in his hands. I take it in confusion, and when I peer inside my heart once again starts to hammer in my chest. There are two cans of pink lemonade and a food tray containing mac and cheese. “I had Daemon make the food, again not quite your mother’s, but I guarantee it will be better than the fast food places. It’s my way of trying to say sorry, again,” he explains, and tears burn at the back of my eyes at how thoughtful he is.

“Thank you,” I force out, willing myself not to cry, and instead force myself to focus on the other bag he is still holding. “What’s in that one?”

This time his eyes flick over my shoulder, where I’m sure Evie still sits, as he replies, “This one has Evie’s favorite food inside, just in case I needed to bribe my way in, but she told me to fuck off and man up.”

I feel Evie at my back, before she slings her arm around my shoulder. “And I stand by that statement, but now you two have made up, hand over my food, so I can leave you both to whatever this weird friendship is that you’ve constructed,” she muses, holding out her hand expectantly, and Alexander rolls his eyes as he passes her the bag. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Reign,” she winks, and then we watch as she heads to the kitchen to grab some cutlery, before disappearing into her room and leaving us alone.

When I turn back to Alexander, I find his eyes already on me, still not looking as relaxed and carefree as I have come to know, and I feel guilty for being the reason. It’s why I hold up the bag and gesture into the apartment. “We both know Daemon will have made enough for two, so would you like to join me for dinner?” I ask tentatively, and I practically see the tension leave his shoulders, as he closes the distance between us and nods.

“I would love to,” he purrs, moving to brush past me, before he pauses at my side and leans down, adding, “Who else would tutor you on the ways of the business world, love?”

And just like that we are back to normal.

I follow him inside, and we indulge in Daemon's delicious mac and cheese, which almost brings tears to my eyes, before Alexander covers this week's business topics, picking up exactly where we left off last week. There is no tension, no bitterness, just two friends enjoying one another’s company, and when I go to bed that evening, I sleep peacefully all night.