Page 10 of Vicious Little Snakes

“Caroline. Look at me.”

I do, and he nods for me to keep talking. I stand, dropping my napkin down next to my plate.

“If you want to ride in my car, then I’d finish your food, Grey. I’m leaving.”

He pulls his phone out and begins texting, and my panic sets in. My hand darts out, swatting at him.

“Don’t you dare text Liam.”

Grey draws back, tensing his jaw, and shoves his phone inside the front pocket of his blazer. Pushing from the table, he stands to his full height and looks down at me. It’s intimidating, but I’m not intimidated.

“I texted Cherry about your party this weekend, Caroline.”

I swallow, feeling exposed and stupid. Grey steps closer to me, looking me up and down. “Did you eat today?”

My lips press together, securing my silence. I hate how easily Grey slides inside my head. He raises an expectant brow, so I speak.

“Why are you so concerned about my eating habits?”

I turn away, grabbing my Birken from the chair adjacent to me. Grey’s words are spoken to my back, but they hit just as hard.

“Because I know when you feel—anything—you actively seek out your own demise. Now, answer my question.”

I spin around, smiling the fakest smile I own.

“Who the fuck bothers with feelings anymore? You’re getting soft, brother. Shame, really. You were one of the greats.”

Grabbing an apple off the table, I wave it at him. “Leave the heavy lifting of my baggage to my therapist.”

I walk away, knowing he’s behind me, but I won’t look back. The last thing I want anyone to know is that Liam makes me feel. I make my out to the waiting limo and climb in, Grey doing the same. As he does, my phone buzzes—Laura. Thank fuck.

“Hi, Laura.”

After what I said to her last week and making her stay home, she’s been calling me daily, and I haven’t been a dick. That’s not to say that I’m warm. But I wish I got credit for the things I don’t say because those might put me in the running for fucking sainthood.

“Hey,” she breathes. “I know you’re on your way, but you’re never going to believe what I just heard.”

She pauses for dramatic effect.

I look out of the window and cross my black-tight-adorned legs.

“I can’t decide until you tell me.”

“Right. So, do you remember Hunter? Hot lacrosse player at St. Simeon? He basically followed you around that whole party last summer.”

A vision of a guy we met at some party in the Hamptons comes to mind, and I nod. “I think so…dark hair, sexy brown eyes, killer body.”

“Thank you.” Grey smirks to himself, staring at his phone. “Perfect description of me.”

“Crazy small dick energy—” I add.

“Definitely not me then,” he answers again, not looking up.

“Hold, Laura.” I pull the phone away from my mouth and look at Grey. “Please shut up, narcissist. Not everything is about you, remember?”

He grins, reaching into his pocket, producing one of his signature smokes, and rolls down the window, looking like some Ralph Lauren model depicting the rich and famous.

“If you say so.” Rolls off Grey’s lips with an exhale of smoke.