Emelia "Lark" Benson's life was normal, easy, and full of love. Until one day, it wasn't.
Taken from her foster family and whisked away to another country, she loses the four people that she knew would always be there for her. Colt, Aidan, Luka, a...
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Lark: What am I supposed to wear to this?
I sent the text to Colt and paced in my apartment as I waited for his reply. I was feeling particularly nervous about going to Aidan's fight tonight.
We hadn't seen each other since last weekend at the club. Either he was gone training or I was on campus at classes. I missed him.
It didn't feel like he was avoiding me, but I also knew the distance between us felt charged.
Colt: You'll sit VIP with us so wear what you want. Most people wear semi-formal or streetwear though.
Lark: Got it. Thanks!
As I looked over the clothes in my closet, I settled on a pair of black pants and a white crop top. I didn't mind dressing up when the occasion called for it, but if given the chance to be more casual I'd always take it.
My mirror reflected the unease I felt and I wanted to hide it underneath a layer of makeup. Lining my eyes in a metallic brown, I let the normalcy of the task drown out my thoughts. I finished quickly and stepped back to stare at my whole ensemble. I felt cool. Really cool.
Colt: We're picking you up in 5 minutes.
The guys had insisted that they pick me up in whatever flashy vehicle they chose for the evening. It was still a little weird for me to wrap my head around their wealth. I had learned that it wasn't just Colt and Aidan that brought in the money. Luka's photography had taken off and he was being paid by many up-and-coming indie magazines to shoot their cover stars. Greyson always joked that once his first novel was published he would finally be able to be the breadwinner of the family.
I enjoyed the comfort that their money brought me and I appreciated how generous they were. I just wanted to contribute too.
I check my appearance in the mirror one last time and then chucked my used makeup wipe in the trash can. The poster I had thrown away on Monday stared back at me.
It was for some band that was playing at a dive bar the next week. The poster, along with a demo of their songs was shoved under my door when I got back to my place last Sunday. I was surprised that they had gone to that much effort since most of the first floor of my building was covered in the same poster.
