The Ballerina & The Devil

Seven. Figuring It Out

I was running my straightener through my hair slowly, careful not to burn myself (which I managed to do most of the time) when Deacon walked in.

"There's this thing they invented a long time ago," I said, picking up the final undone strand of hair. "It's called knocking."

Deacon ignored me and flopped down on my bed. "You going to this party tonight?"

"Nope, I'm actually getting ready for my funeral," I set my straighter down and began pulling my brush through it. "It's a pretty big deal."

"Do you know it's at Chase's house, Miss Sarcasm?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm aware."

I set my brush down and picked up a hair tie. I sectioned off a small portion of my hair and tied it up at the back, so it was styled in a neat half and half style with my side bangs left out. I clipped on a black bow where I tied off my hair.

"So, you know it's Chase's party and you're still going to go?"

"Deac, I'm completely over it."

Lies, lies, lies, lies.

"Liar," Deacon said, as if reading my thoughts.

"And how do you know that?" I demanded, turning to him.

"It's the twin telepathy thing," he said seriously. "I can sense it."

"Shut up," I turned to the mirror to study myself.

I was dressed in liquid black leggings, a Peter Pan collared shirt that was white with a black collar, and black, lacy pumps. I had applied mascara and some eyeliner, as well as a coat of lip gloss. Perfect party attire.

"Seriously, Dem," he said, sitting up. "If Majesty and Kenzie are forcing you to go-"

"They aren't forcing me," I tugged at my shirt, adjusting it so my stomach looked more flattering. "I want to go. Chase's parties are always fun."

That was annoyingly true. Chase was known for throwing the best parties of the year. It probably had to do with the fact that not only was his house equipped with everything to contend to the heart's desires, but also because his parents were never home.

Mr. and Mrs. Adams were these big shot entrepreneurs that traveled the world constantly. I didn't think there was ever a time they were in their home for more than a week at a time every couple of months.

That would probably explain why their son turned out to be such a misogynistic asshole who had no respect for others. They obviously were too busy hopping from country to country to raise their son.

I would always carry a little bit of sympathy towards Chase because of his upbringing. It couldn't have been easy to know your nanny or your maid better than you knew the people who brought you into the world, but that did not grant him a free pass to treat people however he wanted. Not at all.

"Plus, I probably won't even see him," I shrugged, sitting down next to him. "The place is huge. Don't worry about it."

"You're my baby sister," Deacon gave me a look. "I can't help but worry."

"Deacon, you are ten minutes older than me," I reminded him for what seemed to be the millionth time.

"Key word, older."

I rolled my eyes and stood up. "You wanna carpool with me, Majesty, and Kenzie?"

"No," Deacon said immediately. "Kenzie is always touching me," he winced.

"She hasn't been touchy with you in three months."

"That's because the last time I saw her was three months ago."