"... things worked out."
I rub my eyes, still sleepy. It's one A.M. and Sparky woke me up with a phone call. "What?" I say.
Sparky laughs over the phone. "I don't know how it happened, but Anathi, John, and Felipe all found out. You snitched, didn't you?"
"I didn't think they'd tell their parents," I hiss. "I told them not to."
"Well it's working out. They're investing money into my company. I've been flying all over, trying to get customers now. It's working, Valentina. It's working. You might be able to stay at Arbourne. If this keeps going how it's going, we can make everything back. See how important connections are?"
I'll be able to stay. I'll be able to stay with Jasper and Seung-jun and Teddy and Noelise and everyone in our little club. I'll be able to stay at Arbourne.
Or will I?
"You're sure?" I ask.
"I'm sure. I just wanted to tell you as soon as possible. What time is it over there anyways? I'm in Singapore right now."
"It's 1 A.M."
"Well, I hope you sleep easier now."
He hangs up with a click. I throw down my phone, collapsing on my bed and staring at the ceiling. All I can feel is overwhelming, overwhelming relief. I'll be able to stay at Arbourne for a little longer, stay with Jasper a little longer. Honestly, he's headed for Oxford and I'm failing the most basic classes, so I don't know how close we're going to be in the future. It's scary and awful and I was scared, but now I'm staying. But now I'm here. But now, now?
Now, I want to stay by Jasper's side.
꧁꧂
"You're staying?"
"I'm staying," I confirm.
Jasper doesn't say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses me, long and slow.
We're in the pool. It's a warm day; not quite summer, but warm enough to swim. The air is hot and heavy; I think there might be a thunderstorm on the way. Jasper wanted to swim before it started raining.
"I feel bad," I tell him suddenly.
Jasper looks at me, blinking lazily. His lashes are wet. "Why?" he asks.
I shrug, flipping over so I'm floating in the water. Absentmindedly, Jasper runs his hand along the side of my ribs, right where it meets the water. "I just ... I feel bad that this all happened."
"Don't," he says immediately. "I don't want you to leave Arbourne. I made my dad invest for entirely selfish reasons."
"Yeah but—"
I break off, staring at the sky. It's grey and heavy with clouds. How do I tell him? Jasper says he likes me even though I lied to him about who I am and my mother and how I'm not really some old-money heiress from Italy. Does he though? I don't even like myself.
"Stop overthinking. I can see it on your face."
"My poker face is great," I tell him.
"Your poker face sucks. Why don't I distract you?"
He traces loops along my stomach, poking me. I laugh, sinking into the water. "How?"
"Am I not distracting you already?" he says quietly, smiling with infuriating arrogance.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. I must be blushing, but how am I supposed to not, with how close he is to me? I open my mouth to answer something doubtlessly coherent and clever when suddenly, thunder rumbles in the distance.
"We should go in," I say, grateful for the sudden interruption. I can't think straight around Jasper.
He smiles, his teeth gleaming. "Yes, we should."
Then he grabs my back and legs and lifts me effortlessly out of the water. My mind goes blank, because I'm pressed up against his arms, his chest, his heartbeat. "You're a bastard," I tell him, because that's the only thing I can manage to say.
"The best kind," he grins.
My mind slingshots into action when we're halfway into the house. "Put me down!"
"Don't you like it better like this?"
"I—what—I—"
"Or do you like it better like this?"
In a flash, he turns around and pins me against the wall, still half-carrying me. He's so close. My heart is thumping an irregular staccato. My hands are on his shoulders, he's pressed flush against me, and I've never wanted to kiss him more.
Somehow, I retain just a little sanity.
"Kiss me once I've showered," I say, and push him away.
Jasper stumbles, looking very offended. He regains composure, winking flirtily. I don't know how he does that without being embarrassed of himself. "I look forward to it," he says, and blows me a kiss.
I flush, turning away. "You're awful."
All I hear is his clear, beautiful laugh as I leave to go take a shower.
꧁꧂
I keep thinking about him all throughout my shower, even when I'm drying my hair and changing, and I hate him for it. He must have gotten so goddamn good at this kind of teasing and flirting with all his previous girlfriends. He knows exactly what he's doing and I'm just fumbling blindly with infatuation.
I kind of like it though.
Or maybe I just like Jasper. I like him so much that I almost hate him.
I change into an oversized red t-shirt (something designer, I don't really know) and jeans. Jasper's manor, despite being so large and historical, actually has excellent heating. Apparently they installed it a few years ago. I've gotten to know his manor very well. I'm basically here every weekend. Jasper's parents never seem to be in. Honestly, that's fair. Sparky owns a penthouse in Manchester, but he's never there. Why would you stay in one place when the world is at your fingertips?
I leave the guest bathroom which I showered in, running a hang through my hair. Jasper already knows it's naturally straight, so there's no point in pretending. I like being around him because he already knows most of my lies. I don't have to pretend.
I knock on Jasper's door.
"Come in," he calls.
I open the door. He's collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Jasper's room is the most Jasper thing I've ever seen. The walls are practically covered with pictures of cars and horses and golf tournaments and whatnot. Also awards. Lots and lots of awards. He's just so infuriatingly talented. I'm a little jealous.
I sit down on the bed next to him. His blonde hair spills out on the sheets, the low light catching on the angles of his face.
"Where's my kiss?" he asks cheekily.
"You have to win it."
He looks at me, smiling cockily. "How?"
"Diamonds and—"
He grabs me, pulling me over. I topple onto the bed beside him, laughing at my own joke. "You're not funny," he tells me, kissing my cheek.
"I'm so funny," I tell him. His kisses move to my jawline, my neck, my collarbone. "I'm so funny, I'm funnier than you would ever—"
I gasp as he bites down on my skin. My mind stutters.
"Is that okay?" Jasper murmurs.
"I—yeah, yeah." I mean it. This might be a bad idea. But I like bad ideas. I've always liked bad ideas. There's something seductive about bad ideas, and Jasper is the worst idea so far.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He smiles at me. It's infuriating. He knows exactly what he's doing to me. I can't believe that I know what he's doing, and I'm still falling for it all the same.
"How about this?" he asks, his voice low. He presses a kiss to my abdomen.
"Do I even need to say it?" I mumble, feeling my face go red.
I know he's smiling, even if I can't see him. "Just making sure."
He kisses me further up my side. I shiver. "Why don't you just take off my shirt? It's not like it's doing much at this point," I mutter. I say it like I'm joking, but I am far from joking.
He sits up, leaning over me. His blue eyes are amused, but I can see desire in them. I'm struck by how beautiful, how cold yet warm he is. How contradictory. How much I hate him and like him at the same time.
"Gladly," he says.
꧁꧂