Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(69)

My first reaction: He’s definitely a model. I can tell by his striking features alone, and I’m sure he’s someone she met at work. And then the minute he stands in front of the mirror and combs his fingers through his hair to style it, I see the real problem.

This guy isn’t a teenager. Not even close.

“Hey, man,” he nods at me. “You wouldn’t be her brother, would you?” He grimaces, already expecting harsh words. He doesn’t even know that she only has sisters.

“So you’re Daisy’s new boyfriend?” I ask, intentionally not answering his previous question.

He shifts uncomfortably on his heels. “Kiiind of…”

“Well the term boyfriend doesn’t have more than one implication.” I lean my shoulder against the door frame. “You’re either dating or you aren’t.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s confused.

“Well, we’re not fucking at all. She’s underage.” He grabs his coat off the chair. “What do you call that?”

A lie.

“You can still be convicted of sodomy for a blow job,” I refute. “So I call it fucking.”

His face goes pale. “Look, I’m a model. I’ve known Daisy for almost a year. We’re just good friends.”

“You’re about…twenty-two?” I ask.

“Twenty-three.”

Fuck. Ryke is twenty-three. He’s going to kill him.

I shake my head.

Daisy is confused. I read it across her face almost every time I see her. She has a career and has been treated like an adult from the fashion industry, from agents, photographers and models like Julian, since she was fourteen. But there are people, like Lo and Lily, who see her as a little sister. Who treat her like she’s sixteen going on seventeen and not her maturity level.

Age is a number that doesn’t reflect circumstance, environment or psychology. Age matters very little to me when some thirty-year-olds act like children and some teenagers take on the responsibility of households.

I don’t judge people based on two numbers. I judge them from the inside-out.

I’ve contemplated talking to Daisy about her situation. Letting her know that as confusing as it seems, it’s merely the construct of society that’s causing her to feel lost. That, no matter how many boxes people try to put you in, as long as you know yourself, you’ll be fine in the end.

And you may have to play by their rules, put up with their labels and use their terms—I’ve done so all my life—but it’s what you believe that matters most.

But I’ll never have this conversation with her. Frederick often reminds me that I am not the world’s psychiatrist. I can see through people, but I have to choose who and what I want to fix. Daisy is smart enough to get there on her own. She just needs some time.

Forbidding her friendships and relationships won’t solve her problems. It will just be another confusing reminder that two numbers matter more than her level of maturity. So I have to suffer being pleasant to her boyfriend.

“Word of advice,” I say casually. “If you’re going to have sleepovers in this house with your good friend, keep your orgasms to a minimum. I may not be the one to catch you next time, and it sounds like you enjoy your balls.”

“So…who exactly should I avoid?” He laughs.

“Everyone but me,” I tell him.

He laughs again as if this is a joke. I don’t break my even gaze and his smile falters. “Oh…” he mumbles. “Shit, that bad huh?”

“Yeah, man, that bad.” I inwardly cringe at my vocabulary, but he seems to respond better to it. His shoulders have slackened and he puts on an easy smile again. It’s almost like we’re friends.

Another one to add to my collection.

How fucking sick is that? Frederick—oh wait, I can’t call him. The annoyance builds and builds. I just need a fucking nap apparently.

“Julian, you think I could get your number? You’re coming to the Alps with us, right?”

“Yeah.” He recites his number for me and I categorize it in my phone. I have no intention of ever calling him, but if something happens to Daisy and she’s with him—it would be important information to have. “You think you can call Daisy back down here when you go upstairs? We were kind of in the middle of something, you know.” He gives me one of those looks that would accompany an elbow nudge to the hip.

He really is an idiot. “No,” I say flatly. “You can use your hand to finish up. She needs to make breakfast.” And something tells me she doesn’t want to touch you. I can’t look at him without wanting to slam his face in the crease of the door.

So I leave after I secure his number. I’ll just go upstairs and try not to wake Rose as I crawl into bed.

Thanks to Frederick, I can now sleep this day away.





CHAPTER 24





ROSE CALLOWAY





“Did you see what happened at the airport?” Lily asks me with a big, silly grin. “Not one person even blinked in my direction. And all I had to do was wear sunglasses.” She lets out an appreciative sigh before collapsing on the bed. “I think I love France.”

I can’t help but smile. Seeing my sister happy is a special event.