Page 48 of Vicious Little Snakes

I’m staring, watching as her fingers brush over the top of the puffy sticker, and this time when she looks my way, I keep my eyes on hers. I point to the top of the box, and she looks back down, flipping it around, confused until she sees the writing on the inside of the top.

For the girl that feels everything and wears her heart on her sleeve.

Happy birthday, Carebear.

Liam

The black carpet is littered with gold and silver confetti that’s sticking to my Oxford shoes as I make my way to the front door. Camera flashes accompany catcalls, barked at a slew of socialites, begging them to smile and turn around, but I keep my head down, already second-guessing the fact that I’m here.

I knew it’d be a fucking feeding frenzy of who’s who and Manhattan extravagance. So I’m not surprised by the reception. Caroline has managed to “PR” her birthday into bed with the likes of the Met ball. I bet by tomorrow, the list of guests is plastered on every fucking blog and entertainment section in this city. And that bet is why I’m walking on this goddamn carpet going to a goddamn party for a girl that I’m desperate to forget about.

Not showing tonight would make for a much bigger headline. Something Donovan not so subtly reminded me of, again, in a series of texts about an hour ago. Now I’m here to make enough of an appearance to satisfy the loose lips, and then I’m bouncing.

And if I’m lucky, I won’t even see Caroline.

I bypass the attention whores standing still on the step and repeat, hands in my black tuxedo pockets, ignoring “Liam” as I make my way up the steps, giving security a nod. The security rope pulls back for me, and I step over the threshold to walk into the house, but I’m halted as an arm snakes through mine.

A purred, “Hi,” warms my ear.

I’ll be damned. My head turns.

“Hi, yourself, beautiful.”

Arden Livingston smiles back at me, that whole summer we spent together flashing before my eyes, leaving me smiling. I don’t have one bad memory of this girl, not even when we said goodbye—Arden’s good like that. No commitment, all fun.

She comes to stand next to me, and I motion with my other arm, letting her take the momentary lead before giving her my arm again. We walk in silence, giving each other quick glances as we head toward the elevator.

“My, my, my. You look good, Liam.”

I smirk.

“As do you, Arden. How long’s it been?”

She smooths the lapel on my tux.

“Summer before your junior year.”

“That’s right.”

And what a welcomed summer it was. I was mending a broken heart, and she was more than happy to help me find ways to lick all my wounds. Her auburn hair flits through her fingers as she runs them through cocking her head to smile at me.

“And here I thought tonight was going to be boring.”

We stop in front of the elevator, and I bring my face closer to hers. “Boring? At a Caroline Whitmore party? Never. She might be better than you at throwing them. But I’ll definitely do my best to make sure you have a good time.”

She pushes my face back.

“Better than me? How cruel. I can think of a few things I’m the very best at. Seems someone may need reminding.”

Looks like Arden’s gonna save the day for the second time in my life. Maybe I’ll stay for longer than a minute.

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Two emaciated girls holding cigarettes, both wearing way too much makeup and laughing too loud, step out, practically skidding to a stop when they look up to see Arden and me standing in front of them.

We ignore them. It’s easy to do when Arden is around. She’s so used to the attention that missing it becomes easy. We walk inside the shaft as they exit, and Arden turns to stare at me. I press the button to take us to the atrium, not taking my eyes off her, as the doors close, leaving us alone, with matching grins.

“Didn’t you have a date, Arden?”

I realize I saw someone with her after she’d said, “Hi.”