Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(127)

When Timo is at parties like this one, he gets hit on by young dudes and older men—really, all ages—about thirty times, at least. John is the one that has to constantly say, “He’s mine.”

But more than six-months into their relationship, they’re at a good place together. I think both have trouble believing it, but for different reasons.

Noise explodes as a huge group of family bounds over, some crawling out of the pool and soaking the cabana bed. I sit up against the pillow with Baylee in my arms.

She stirs, squints at the incoming men, and just shrugs them off, sleeping again.

I’m glad she’s used to my family, and she’s not agitated or bothered by them. I can’t excuse half the shit they do, I’d lose my voice.

I’m pretty sure Abram is pissing behind the cabana.

“Looking good, Thora James!” Timo calls, and everyone starts clapping as Thora approaches us with Nikolai. He claps too, nothing short of proud.

All the promo material for Amour has Thora’s face front and center. A huge honor. Something they’d never think to do with me.

(I’m not aching to be on promo art.) There’s a reason they picked Thora. Daisy Calloway, one of the famous sisters, left a raving review about aerial silk in Amour, and Aerial Ethereal capitalized on that quote, the aerial silk act, and their new star Thora James.

After a hard start to the beginning of the year, she still worked her ass off. It goes without saying, she deserves this recognition.

Robby parades one of the many Amour posters, pumping it in the air like a boxing cue card.

Thora puts her hand to her mouth, a little embarrassed.

Nikolai whispers to her, infatuated with his girlfriend. That night at the hospital, months ago, didn’t draw them apart. They’re closer now than they’ve ever been.

And then Sergei slips into the cabana behind Erik, and there’s an unmistakable shift in mood.

I try to stay relaxed, but the air pulls taut. Everyone glances between Timo, John, and Sergei.

Timo hops off the ottoman, and John looks to his boyfriend on whether he wants him to leave or stay. The cabana falls to silence.

It just got really awkward.

“I can go,” Sergei says, about to turn around.

Timo hesitates. “Wait.” He told me that Sergei texted him a five-hundred word apology for The Red Death, and he asked me, “What should I do, Luk?”

I said, “He seems sincere.” It means something to me, but to Timo, I think what he’s been searching for, all this time, wasn’t sincerity or honesty.

It was just the smallest acknowledgement that Sergei still cares about him. About the little brother he used to put on his shoulders and find ponds to ice-skate on during wintertime. No matter which city we were in.

So as they meet each other’s gaze, Sergei waiting on pins and needles for Timo’s response, I’m almost positive I know what he’ll say.

“You should stay,” Timo tells him. “The party is here.”

Sergei looks like a lot of emotion just slapped him at once. He says in Russian, “I heard the party is wherever you are. I’ve missed it.”

Timo lets this sink in, but his rising lips suddenly part in alarm. I follow his gaze that drifts across the pool.

I jolt up, stirring Baylee even more.

“What?” She rubs her eye, frowning until she meets the horror on my face.

Everyone is looking at what Timo and I see.

Frozen next to the DJ speakers and chaotic pool party, Katya stands tear-streaked. Black mascara runs down her cheeks, and she wipes at the makeup. Head swinging left and right like she’s searching for something. Someone.

I know it’s us.

Her family. Her brothers.

“I’m going to kill someone,” Nikolai says lowly as he parts from the cabana, his stride urgent.

I slide Bay off, and she nods like go, go. I jump up and put a hand on his shoulder, just as Nikolai tears through the crowd. Other cousins follow. So do my brothers.

Thing is, Katya was on a date today.

I’m not sure anyone knows this fact besides me and Timo, and if I tell Nikolai, he really will want to kill some motherfucker.

More than I want to right now.

My lungs are lit on fire.

“Wait!” I shout at Nik over the commotion, servers flocking the area with trays of booze. Beach balls are launched rapidly into the air. “Wait, Nik!”

He stops, head dipping back at me.

“Let me talk to her first,” I say. He’ll turn whatever happened into a lecture, and she’ll be more upset.

He contemplates for only a second before nodding. “Three minutes.”



*



The Worst Date In History Of Dates.

That’s how Kat describes the event to me, each word like a fist to my heart. I’m not prepared for the worst date in the history of dates. I’m not ready to go fuck this guy to someone who’s unhinged her life.

Nothing could ever make me ready for that.

My head is spinning, and I instantly ask, “Are you okay, like physically?”

Katya sits atop a counter in the empty boys’ bathroom, tile floor wet from people dripping pool water, and our siblings stand guard outside. Timo waits for the three minutes like Nik. I think he’s afraid of accidentally annoying her.

“Kat?” I pass her paper towels from a nearby dispenser.