Page 77 of Gravehouse

“What?” she glances around the table. “I’m right.”

“You usually are,” Atlas mutters, chewing his food.

Khloe beams proudly. “Thank you.”

My phone buzzes again. Punk. Then Luce right after. They always have impeccable timing to rub in my suffering.

Atlas nudges his head toward my plate. “Eat something, V.”

“Are you worried about me?” I tip my chin up, all wide eyes and zero sincerity.

He huffs a breath through his nose, amusement ghosting across his face. “No. I’m worried you’re going to stab somebody with a steak knife and ruin dessert.”

I glance at him. “There are worse losses.”

His mouth twitches.

Across the table, Camille leans into Asher again, fingers brushing the open collar of his shirt, and he lets her. More than lets her. Encourages it. He goes lazy in his chair, one hand sliding onto her thigh, angled just right so I have a full, unobstructed view of exactly how little he gives a fuck. The worst part is that he knows I’m watching. He can probably feel it the same way I do.

I empty my glass, swallowing it in one go, before Khloe gasps from my side. “Oh, this one is it. Ivy looks hot. I’m posting. If I have to sit through this weird incest-adjacent jealousy pageant, I deserve joy.”

Camille stiffens, and Elea closes her eyes for one brief second like she’s speaking privately to God.

Atlas holds out his hand. “Phone.”

Khloe finally gives it up, and he studies the screen, then whistles low. “She’s right.”

I don’t need to see the photo. I know what I look like.

Shaking my head, I let Khloe have her fun, since she’s right. Tonight is fucking weird enough.

Khloe points at me like she’s presenting a prize. “Tell me she doesn’t look hot.”

“Khloe,” Elea warns, but I see the flicker of a grin. Huh. Could little chaos have earned this trait from her mother?

“What?” Khloe widens her smile, eyes glistening with absolute mania. “I’m asking the table.”

We all kind of know she isn’t…

Atlas turns the phone a little, angling it away from the candles. “Smash.”

Khloe bursts out laughing, and the tension in the air just cracked up a notch.

Camille says something to Asher, but he doesn’t answer, too focused on Atlas, before shifting to me.

Oh, oh… have we rocked his perfect boat?

Before I can give him my widest smile, a weight drops in my gut. I should look away. I don’t.

Asher’s mouth curls, his voice low. “You having fun?”

The whole table goes still, and Khloe leans back with her lips pressed together like she’s biting down a grin.

My eyes land on him. “Oh, are you talking to me?”

Blood rushes behind my ears, muffling out the sound of Atlas cussing beneath his breath.

Asher raises a brow. “I am, actually.”