And then she leaves.

She just…walks out the door, down the steps and keeps going. I watch her from the foyer window, her slender frame getting tinier and tinier as she makes her way down the driveway.

Not once does she look back.

I’m glad she’s gone, I tell myself. I’ve been dying for a drink, and now that I don’t have to worry about making her uncomfortable, I can get that drink. I stare at the necklace in my hand, tempted to whip it against the wall. In the end, I shove it in my pocket, because Lauren was right. Damn thing did cost fifteen grand. Might as well save it for the next girl. This time I’ll pick someone who’s grateful and actually appreciates me.

I stomp off to Dad’s study and raid the liquor cabinet. The only stuff that’s left is his disgusting port. I guzzle the sweet shit down, anyway. Booze is booze. This’ll get me the buzz that I need.

I can’t believe her. I’ve been nice to her. I’ve stood up for her. I’ve protected her. She should be glad. She should be on her little knees thanking me for throwing the mantle of the Royals over her.

The mantle of the Royals?

I nearly puke in my mouth. Is that the kind of person I’ve turned into? No wonder she didn’t want to spend more time with me.

I fumble around and look for another bottle. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the warnings of my brothers, telling me not to flush my life down the tube.

“No pills. No drugs,” I tell my imaginary brothers. “Just a little booze. Nothing wrong with that.”

As I tip the bottle against my lips, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall. My mom’s picture used to be up there. Now it’s a reflective monstrosity. How can the old man stand to look at himself? Wait, he’s never here, so that’s why.

I’m the only one here, drinking crap I can’t stand because I don’t want to spend a minute of my life alone. My head’s a bad, bad place.

I clench the bottle tighter in my fist. Drinking alone is for losers. I, Easton Royal, am not a loser. I finish off the bottle and grab a second one and stumble toward the beach.

Chapter 21

The walk to Felicity’s is a blur, but I find myself at the right spot. Or at least what appears to be the right spot, judging by the number of bodies smashed on one patch of sand.

“Easton Royal!”

I hear my name called out by a number of kids. Felicity must’ve invited non-Astor peeps, because I recognize the faces of some folks who’ve started college already.

“Hey, Felicity’s been looking all over for you,” someone says. “She’s pretty pissed. You may want to hide.”

“Stu brought girls from college down. They’re so fine.” Another guy bites his fist. “I can’t wait to graduate.”

“Where’s the booze?” I mutter.

“Pool house. But…man, you look lit already. Sure you need anymore?”

“If I want your input, I’ll ask for it.”

I shove past him, not even registering who it was. Up the small incline, I spot the pool, pool house, and a small dance floor set off to the side. Ella’s on it with Val. They love to shake their booties.

I grab a glass out of some dude’s hand and make my way over. Behind me, there’s a scuffle and some protests, but I flip the guy off and then ignore him. He can get another drink easily. I muscle over to the girls, spilling half my drink along the way.

“God, who’s the drunk—” Lindsey from Government breaks off mid-rant. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Got a problem with me?” I drawl.

“No,” she replies, but her eyes say a different thing.

I give her a cool smile and step to the side. “Good call.”

“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

“Bitch.”

A meaty hand grabs my shoulder. “I heard that, Royal. You’re the one spilling shit all over people.”

Blearily, I peer into the new face. It’s Zeke, Lindsey’s thick-necked boyfriend.

“I know you don’t get enough attention at home, Zeke, but you’re barking up the wrong tree,” I inform him. “Either get your hands off my Tom Ford original or fork over the grand for a replacement.”

A red-faced Zeke hauls back to deliver a punch. If it landed, it would’ve hurt like hell, but he moves slower than a snail. I duck under his grip, grab his wrist, and pull it up behind his back. He falls to his knees.

Lindsey cries out. Then another voice yells my name.

“Easton! Easton!” A pair of small hands ineffectually push at me. It’s Ella. She looks worried.

“What’s up, baby sis?”

“What’re you doing?”

I whip my free hand wide and the remaining liquid in my glass splashes over the rest of the dance floor. “I’m here to party.”

“You’re drunk.” She claws at my fist—the one that’s gripping Zeke tight.

“Two gold stars for you! I’d clap for you but my hands are full.” I lift the glass high. If I bring it down at the right angle, I could knock Zeke out. That might be fun.

Lindsey’s screaming has turned into sad little cries. I start humming to drown her out.

“Where’s Hartley?” Ella demands.

“Who cares.” My throat seizes up on the lie. I care. I care too fucking much.

“Easton, please.”

“You beg like that when you’re with Reed?” I wink at her. Or try to, at least. “That must be why you carry his balls in your purse.”

Her worried face turns ice cold. “You’re drunk,” she repeats. “Go home.”

Another set of hands joins Ella’s. These are big and strong and almost manage to get Zeke out of my grip.

Bran’s face swims into view. “Hey, dude. We’re going to play Frisbee football and could use another body.”

“It’s too dark,” I grumble.

“Nah, Bran stuck some LED lights on it,” Pash says at my side. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, I let go of Zeke. Lindsey collapses on his back, which doesn’t look comfortable at all. I start to say something, but Bran and Pash drag me away. Last thing I see is Ella’s stormy face.

I guess I hurt her feelings again. I’ll have to apologize in the morning. She’s so sensitive.

Someone tosses a lighted disc in the air.

“Got a joint?” I ask.

“Let’s just play,” Bran says with a sigh. “We don’t need anyone smoking pot tonight.”

I turn on Bran. “Are you monitoring my recreational habits now?”

“Just trying to keep the captain of our defense healthy and suspension free.”

The disc comes hurtling in our direction. Bran leaps up and catches it before it hits me between the eyes. “Maybe Frisbee is the wrong plan tonight,” he says wryly.

Pash nods. “Maybe we should chill at my house? We could watch a movie.”

“Movie? The last thing I want to do is a movie.” I slap one fist against my palm. “How about we fight?”

“There will be no fighting at my party!” Felicity’s shrill voice says.

I pivot to see her standing a few feet away. Her eyes are spitting fire. I wonder why she’s so mad. Then I remember. She wanted to break up with me here where everyone could see.

Well, I’m happy to oblige.

“Felicity. There you are.” I walk over and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “My pretend girlfriend. Hey everyone,” I call out. “We’ve got something to share with you. Felicity has an announcement. She’s going to break off our fake relationship.”

There’s a hushed silence, broken by a few female titters.

I back off and spread my arms wide. “I’m here. Have at it. Whatever you want to say to break it off, say it. Make it look good.”

“Easton, let’s go home.” Ella shoves her way to the front of the crowd.

“No can do, baby sis. I promised my pretend girlfriend she can humiliate me in front of all our friends.” I wave at Felicity again. “Stage is all yours.”

Her mouth’s screwed up into a tiny circle of disapproval, as if someone stitched around the edges and then pulled the threads tight.