the royals ✅

chap 8: royals and pastors

 As soon as Adonis's car pulls up beside my house, I realize my mistake. My eyes widen as his gaze flickers to mine, the question in his eyes clear. The yacht is clear in the distance and Adonis would be a fool not to notice it. "Is that-?" He starts, and I cut him off. I had one job, and that job was to keep him away from them. Anyone I love- anything I value, is sure to be used against me. I use their imperfections, and their insecurities, against them. And they won't stop for a second before doing the exact same to me.

 I smile a little as I stare off into the distance, a bitter smile. They've won again, "It's a yacht" I mumble, unbuckling my seat belt slowly. If I was sober, I wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake. However, I was still recovering from the drinks I had a mere hour ago. In my haste yesterday, I had forgotten to eat anything. Drinking on an empty stomach was even worse, and considering the amount of drinks I had poured down my throat yesterday, I was bound to have a hangover.

 He nods, staring at me. He still seems to be in shock, tilting his head slightly to admire it. It's gorgeous, I'll admit that. Parker's father has a fine taste. It's white, extravagant, with a pretty wood border around the deck. "My friends are here" I explain in a thin voice, managing to sound a little excited. I force myself, but my spirit is lacking. I've been going through a whirlwind, and now, this. It's not possible to explain to Adonis why I don't like any of them without explaining the game. Explaining the game will be the end of us. He will never speak to me again. And it's not a matter of if he will be able to forgive me because I know Adonis. He won't. Ever. I wish he could, and I wish everything was simple.

  I'm in fucking love with him. I know it. He must know it. And it'll shatter me when he leaves. I suddenly remember the kiss Muhammad had forced onto me. I'd meant to tell Adonis yesterday, but in the chaos, I had forgotten. I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it, putting a hand on my shoulder.

 He's smiling, calm as ever, "Will you introduce me to them?" He asks curiously, running his hand through his brown, perfect hair. I nod slightly, gritting my teeth. This is not playing out how I want it to, but I take it as I always do. With a forced smile and improvisation, I can make it through. I always do. Lying is a second nature to me, and the words slip off my tongue.

"I need to tell you something" I uneasily start, and an intense stare takes the place of the easygoing smile that had been on his face several seconds ago. He nods slightly.

  He plays with his hands, "Okay" He thinly replies, his voice cracking as he says these words. He coughs for a second, and then looks back at me. His expression is as calm as it always is. The smile however, has disappeared. His smile is gorgeous. One of my favorite features. His teeth seem to glow, and he always looks excited. As if the prospect of simply living is delightful to him. Adonis appreciates every single moment for it is, not letting himself dwell on unimportant things.

 "I went to the ball as you know, with my father. This boy I've known since childhood. His name is Muhammad. So afterwards," I say, and I pause for a second, taking a deep breathe and forcing myself to continue. I haven't ever had to discuss this sort of thing with him, and I have no idea how he'll take it.

"We were on the roof, just catching up and drinking" I say, and Adonis doesn't say anything, but his figure stiffens. Adonis hates when I drink on the regular. He doesn't mind parties, but he knows I need control "And he kissed me" I finally blurt out, the words spilling quickly from my mouth. Adonis turns to gaze at me, scanning my face. And then, he chuckles.

 I grip the dashboard in front of me, my fingers digging into the soft leather of the interior. I don't look at him. I want him to trust me. I hope he does. It'll mean the world to me if he puts his faith in me, "As long as you didn't kiss him back, I don't care" He quietly says, and a warm smile flits across my face instantly. He knows me well enough. He trusts me. He shouldn't, but he does. I have dozens of secrets, hidden behind my lips. I'm a liar. A skilled liar. Someone who doesn't deserve a second of love, a second of anything, but people choose to trust me anyways.