“Nate, mostly,” Cross says, “Though Markus sometimes shows up when he needs more room than what he has in the wyverns’ den.”
I find the thought offensive. “I can’t believe you have such a large professional studio just for a couple of students.”
Cross shrugs. “It was set up a few years ago, and we haven’t had any reason to redesign the room. There’s always one or two artists amongst us.”
Why would they convert the room, when they already seem to have space for everything else?
“You know,” Cross drawls slowly, “I’m sure Nate wouldn’t mind sharing the studio if you wanted to work there.”
I snort. “And what would that cost me, exactly?”
His smile tells me everything I need to know. “I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.”
“No, thank you,” I reply primly, making everyone chuckle.
“I see empty glasses. Can’t have that in our house.”
The group migrates to a bar in the lounge rather than the table with the keg and a few bottles.
Keller chuckles as Cross steps behind the bar. “You’ll serve us yourself? I’m honored.”
“Not all of us keep bloody servants, posh prick.” Cross roll his eyes. “So, what will it be?”
“Wine, if you have something drinkable here. Or do you keep the good bottles upstairs?”
“What’s upstairs?” I ask.
Dez’s tour only covered the ground floor, but Nate also mentioned the first floor.
“Trust me when I say, you don’t want to know,” Cross tells me, turning to Keller. “Red or white? I have a decent Chablis chilling, and I had a good Bordeaux at dinner, so it’s open.”
“The Bordeaux, if you please.”
I opt to go along with the experts, and the wine’s so good, I don’t even want to guess how much it cost.
I look around at the throng of people chatting, dancing, laughing, and realize I’m having a good time, despite the stress.
As the host, Cross’s often called away to replenish snacks or handle a drunk idiot, but he comes back every time, checking on our drinks.
Markus and Dez only stay an hour or so before disappearing, but Claire and Keller stay with Olivia and me. We gravitate towards the pool, even though nothing could induce me to take a dip—not only because it’s the middle of October. I don’t think I ever can see this pool without picturing Charlotte drowning.
That said, their patio furniture is ridiculously comfortable, and it’s a nice evening, so we lounge in the reclined chairs while chatting.
“It’s starting to get late,” Claire says, looking at her boyfriend with a glint that betrays that statement.
She looks like she’s thinking about something positively wicked.
I have to agree, and I yawn for good measure. Checking my phone, I see it’s already one in the morning. “God, yeah—I’d better get back to the dorms.”
I vaguely consider checking up on Jack, but he appears just as Liv and I stand, stumbling a little.
Cross was of the belief that no guest should ever have an empty glass—not to mention everything I drank before we switched to wine. I’m not completely hammered, but I’m unsteady on my heels.
“There you are!” Jack yells, clearly far more plastered than us.
“Hey,” I wave. “I was wondering how you were doing.”
“Great!” he rasps, throwing his hands up for good measure. “I am great. And you are too! So beautiful.”