The more I think back on the ambush I received yesterday—was it yesterday?—the more I’m convinced Sebastian had a hand in getting the band to side with him. There’s no way they would’ve come to me and confronted me like that if it weren’t for him. We’re the closest thing we’ve got to family, the five of us. There ain’t a single one of us who didn’t come from a fucked-up home, have a tragic backstory, or who doesn’t know what it’s like to struggle.
Wicked Hearts was forged through tragedy; we’ve all got sorrow and agony in our blood. If any of them were truly worried about me, I’m sure they would’ve come to me on their own. Not a goddamn ambush. Nah… this was all Sebastian. I fucking know it.
I sit outside for a little while longer before dragging my ass into the bathroom for a quick shower. I’m starving, and can’t even remember the last time I ate anything of substance, so before I have to meet these assholes for intake, I decide to check out the restaurant in the main building. Hopefully, it’s not just a bunch of disgusting cafeteria food. I don’t know how much this place is costing me, but I’d imagine it’s a pretty fucking penny, so the food here better be top-notch. Grabbing my book, my headphones, and my phone—which is basically useless in this place, but thankfully, I still have music—I head downstairs.
There’s a paved-out walkway between this building and the other buildings, surrounded by a lot of big, green shrubbery and colorful flowers. It almost reminds me of the vegetation in a place like Hawaii, but I don’t think that’s where I am. It’s early in the morning, but the air is hot and humid already. The hostess is able to seat me out on the back patio, per my request, and after she brings me a water and an orange juice, she takes my order and leaves me to my own devices. Despite being in a band and touring all around the world, performing in a different jam-packed place every night, I prefer being alone. I find much more solace by myself with a book and my music than I do in a room full of people. I’ve always been that way, though.
My food comes; I ordered the French toast platter—can’t go wrong there. With my book beside my plate and my headphones blaring in my ears, I dig in. About halfway through eating, someone takes a seat at my table directly across from me. My eyes lift, taking in the stranger with short, buzzed blond hair and ratty looking clothes that look like he doesn’t belong in an expensive ass place like this one. His forest green eyes are already watching me, a wide smile tugging on his full, pink lips, and he’s wearing a pair of navy-blue headphones around his neck.
He says something, but I miss it because my music is still playing. Plucking out an ear bud, I lift my brows in question, waiting for him to repeat himself.
“What are you reading?” he repeats, voice rich and melodic, a surprisingly beautiful sound coming from someone as grungy as him, as he tips his chin toward the open book. I lift it, letting him see the front cover. He nods, grin magnifying. “Greek mythology, huh?”
I nod, setting the book back down and moving to put my ear bud back in, when he speaks… again.
“Caspian, right?”
Blowing out a heavy sigh through my nose, I set the bud down on the table,clearlynot getting back to that anytime soon. “Yup,” I grit out, annoyance flaring inside of me at his insistence for small talk, but I can’t say I hate the sound of his voice. He just stares at me for a moment, almost expectantly.
“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I deadpan.
“Little rude.” A smile still plays on his lips as he reaches over and snatches a blueberry off my plate, popping it into his mouth. “Rowan,” he says in between chewing. “My name. Rowan Davies.”
Davies.I wonder if he’s related to director Richard Davies.
Cutting off a bite of French toast, I shove it into my mouth as my eyes roam over his face. His eyebrows are thick and dark, framing his eyes in a way that somehow makes the green stand out more. It also lets me know that the blond is probably fake. His jawline is strong and square, free of any stubble, and his cupid’s bow is deep, pronounced. He has a pout to them.
Dragging my gaze down, he’s wearing a black bandana tied around his neck loosely, sitting beneath the headphones with a white and black splattered t-shirt on that has holes in it. I can’t tell if it’s just an old, worn t-shirt, or if it’s one of those Kanye style shirts that cost an absurd amount and are full of wear and tear on purpose.
Either way, it’s ugly as fuck.
Rowan pops another one ofmyblueberries into his mouth before reaching over and grabbing my water. Halfway to his mouth, I sit up and snatch it from him, water sloshing over the edge and onto my hand. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing, lad?”
“What? I’m thirsty.”
“So, fucking get your own. I don’t share.”
He sits back in his chair, fingers threaded together on his torso. “Well, that’s a shame. Sharing is fun.” The crooked grin and the glint in his eyes tell me that was an innuendo. It does nothing but further my scowl.
“Can I fucking help you with something, or are you this annoying to everyone?”
“Saw you on the news the other day,” he mutters, ignoring my question completely. The last fucking thing I want to do is talk about what happened that landed me here. “Was it yesterday? Shit, I don’t even know.”
Grinding down on my molars, I mutter, “Cool. Is that it? I’d like to get back to what I was doing.”
“Did you get here today?” he asks, clearly not letting this conversation die like I’d prefer. I barely get out a nod before he continues. “I did too. Can you fucking believe we’re trapped here on this island? Left here to be forgotten? Did you know that some islands are man-made? Isn’t that fucking wild to think about? How do they man-make an island in the middle of the water? How do they stay afloat?”
Fucking hell.
Shoving one more giant bite into my mouth before washing it down with the rest of my orange juice, I grab my book and pop my ear bud back in, Flights Over Phoenix’sHypnotizecanceling out any noise as I push out my chair and leave without another word.
I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, but I’m not in the mood for chit-chat, so preferably somewhere where I can be alone, that isn’t my room. After making sure they can charge my meal to my room up at the front desk, I push through the doors into the warm morning air, plopping my ear buds back in and turning on some music as I head in the direction of what’s hopefully a quiet place to chill. What better time to explore the grounds than now?
CHAPTERFIVE
Caspian
