Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(102)

So it’s not all on me.

Baylee gives me a look like is he for real?

I nod in reply. He’s a hundred-percent unaware of how people perceive him.

“It’s not funny,” Sergei tells me. “You need to take this seriously.” And he’s reading my expression incorrectly.

“I have been,” I assure him. “I don’t know what else to say, dude.”

“You could say thank you.”

My brows jump. “Geoffrey really returned our act’s music because you asked him nicely?” That’s incredibly hard to believe.

“Yes,” Sergei says like it’s simple logic.

It’s not.

I don’t understand how that worked at all.

Dimitri leans forward, forcing me to edge back, and Camila Ruiz stands in front of him.

She splays out her palm for the money.

“Ah-ah-ah. Beer first.” Dimitri wags a finger at the draft spouts.

Baylee is near laughter, and I understand why. Neither one of them have recognized each other yet.

Camila looks to Baylee and asks, “What?”

“No, no, no,” Dimitri chimes in, putting his hand at Bay’s face. “Ignore this one. She’s purposefully trying to make me dehydrated.”

“If only that were true,” Baylee says into her sip of water.

Camila squints in the poor lighting and tries to scrutinize Dimitri. She stiffens at the sight of his neck. “Is that a burn mark?”

“Yes, Nancy Drew, now beer. Right there.” He jabs another finger. “I’ll make it easy: I don’t even care what kind. Just give me something.”

Camila smiles. “You’re Dimitri.”

I can see the gears clicking in his brain, processing her voice, maybe. And then he says, “Princess?”

Camila curtsies.

Simple as that, he forgets about his pursuit of beer. Dimitri grins and rests his elbows on the bar, leaning so far over. “You’re obsessed with my cock.”

“Tiny cock,” she corrects.

“Whatever you like to call it, it’s fine with me, princess.”

Camila taps the red glow necklace on her head. It’s complicated could mean anything, and Dimitri would hit on her even if the necklace represented taken.

“You know what the red one means?” he says.

Camila crosses her arms and waits for the punch line.

Dimitri straightens up. “It means you’re confused until you’ve met me.”

She stretches her hands on the bar, and confidently, she says, “Take a long look. Because that’s all you’re ever going to get.” At this, Camila snatches his hundred-dollar bill and starts filling a pint of beer.

I pat his shoulder. Dimitri is the underdog, every which way you look, and I understand that more than I do a champion. I understand someone losing more than winning and fawning over people you can’t have from afar.

Dimitri isn’t pushy. When someone rejects him, he accepts this fact, but he still watches like maybe there’s a hidden chance. A world in which he gets what he wants, too.

So I’m not even a little surprised that he hasn’t peeled his gaze off Camila—or that he doesn’t pressure her either. He just grins when she glances back at him.

Horns and trumpets suddenly blare through speakers, and multi-colored lights flash. Girls in matching silver cocktail dresses parade into the club. Carrying baskets and bottles of booze.

John scoffs. “Not this stupid thing again. Why didn’t you warn me?” He’s asking Camila.

She slides the overflowing pint to Dimitri. “Because you still would’ve come and complained for a solid three hours beforehand. I was saving myself, cuz.”

“What is it?” Baylee asks, just as the girls strut over to the bar. They pause to pour liquid in a few mouths, and then they reach into their baskets.

I can’t see what they grab.

“It’s a promo thing,” Camila says. “The club offers free booze and a Vegas experience. People tell their friends, and then before you know it, we have a full house and I’m swamped at the bar with tips ranging from best night of my life to I want to eat a tub of rocky road.”

“Vegas experience?” John arches his brows. “That’s what we’re calling it now?” He doesn’t see the girl with the basket behind him, or the others pouring shots into my cousins’ mouths.

In one swift move, a girl procures a pink fuzzy handcuff from the basket and clips John’s wrist to Timo’s.

John gapes. “What.” He looks personally affronted, and we’re all laughing. Except for Timo, who’s really trying to avoid Sergei. I think the handcuff situation makes it harder to keep John away from our older brother.

“Natalie,” John says dryly, knowing the basket girl who works here.

She high-fives Camila.

“I hate you all,” John says. “Where’s the key to this fucking atrocity?”

“There’s never any keys,” Camila reminds him. “That’s the whole fun. If you understood that word, this would make more sense to you.”

John cringes. “Whoever came up with this idea is a sadist.”

“Don’t diss my boss. She’s the best.” Camila tosses a dirty towel at John, and he dodges the rag.