Papillon

Chapter 6: Sore Loser

Francis

I liked winning. But somehow, engaging in pointless battles with Bella Ryder made my heart race unlike any other–even if I wasn't the victor. And unfortunately, this morning, I was not.

Bella was hot and she knew it.

My dick knew too.

All day long, the memory of water sluicing down her curves as she pulled herself out of the pool was on replay, sending heat straight to my dick. My shorts did not appreciate the constriction.

That evening, when we got together for dinner, my skin itched. While all my friends were more than comfortable living in wealth, I was not and it was evident. The fabric of my pants chafed my skin and the long sleeves were starting to really annoy me.

Robyn, in a two-piece white cocktail dress, laughed and walked over to me. She rolled up the sleeves of my dress shirt to my elbows and fastened them, smoothing my shirt with a gentle hand.

"There you go," she smiled, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I feel like a fraud," I groaned, leaning my head on the crown of hers.

"You don't look it."

"You know better than to lie to me, Little Hale," I clipped. She laughed and blew some hair out of her face, but it died down when Christian walked in, in all his imperial royalty. He just looked like he owned the place. Like everything his eyes fell on belonged to him. Every woman—and multiple men—in the room turned in his direction.

"When are you going to tell him?" I asked.

"Tell who what?" She asked innocently.

"Tell New York's most eligible bachelor that you've been in love with him since you first laid eyes on him," I told her matter-of-factly.

"Probably when Damon tells Ariadne," she played and then frowned. "I don't understand how I am so obvious to everyone but Christian."

"Because he's an idiot."

"Bella and Ariadne don't know either."

"That's because they know he's an idiot so they can't fathom that anyone really likes him," I drawled.

She laughed. Little Hale was, by far, the nicest person I had ever known and just being around her made me calm down. It didn't last long because when Bella walked in, I swear the entire room sucked in a breath. At 16, she was a fucking vision in a sparkly red dress that had a deep neckline, stopping halfway down her thighs. Glamor loved Bella Ryder–she owned it.

I had always hated it. Unless it was on her.

When Ariadne walked in in a more modest purple dress, Damon ran his tongue over his teeth and walked to the bar to refresh his drink. And I didn't miss Christian's eyes trailing over Robyn when he sat down at the table either. Every time he walked in a room, the first person he looked for was her. Whether he knew it or not.

The six of us were honestly, beyond insufferable.

It was inevitable–Damon needed someone to show him it was okay to let those walls forged by the underworld down every once in a while. On the other hand, Christian lived so high in the clouds, so detached from the face of the Earth, that he needed someone to bring him back down to reality.

And me?

Merde.

I had no idea what I needed but a lot of my body seemed to have a fairly good idea–and that was Bella Ryder. She fucking confused the hell out of me because she was the exact opposite of me in all her sparky, shiny, fucking pink. I resented the way she could make me lose control. I liked my universe in a very specific way, but she walked in and destroyed all of that.