Star-Crossed by Luna Lacour Read Free Book Online Page A

things he was yet to discover. “And you're Kaitlyn Laurent, aren't you? I saw an article about your dad in the Times. Impressive.”
    “Yep,” I smiled smugly. “And you're Marius. Marius St. Vincent.”
    “But far from saintly,” he said. “Anyway, I guess I'll see you around the corridors.”
    “Or in class,” I grinned. “I'll see you around.”
    And then I watched him go, smiling that lovely smile that still rang with sweet delight in a way that only your early teens can grant you; I was oblivious to the man he would become.
    While our parents were dating, I was able to maintain an almost-friendship with Marius. With a mutual acknowledging that we should at least have gotten to know each other, we spent some evenings watching movies or taking walks around the city. Occasionally, we'd stop at one of the bridges and admire the picturesque scenery; the autumn colors and heavy clouds and buildings like giants. I'd watch the people pass by, sometimes with my arm looped around Marius as he guided me – a gentleman's gesture – and we'd laugh about one thing or another. Classes both academic and of social stature. Gossip and typical jokes.
    But this was all thwarted when during one of our evening strolls, I spotted a young girl – a fellow freshman – and remarked:
    “Didn't you sleep with her?”
    At that moment, I hadn't even meant to offend him. It had been all around the halls of Trinity, and I'd simply never brought it up.
    Marius yanked his arm away, infuriated.
    “No,” he insisted. “I didn't. It's just a stupid rumor.”
    When she turned, spotting him, she giggled and waved. Marius returned the gesture, automated. Like a robot. I decided to drop the question and opt for something else, but Marius was fixated on the idea that I believed the slander of his own truth. He kept repeating the question, over and over again, until I was so flustered that I finally just caved and gave him the answer that he wanted to hear. The only answer that he'd hear.
    That's the thing about insisting. We don't beg to know the things we already know. We beg for the things we want to be true. Denial is a potent drug.
    “Yes!” I cried. “Yes, I believe it. And it's hard not to when that girl clearly seems infatuated with you.”
    Marius dropped his shoulders. I shook my head.
    “And Marius,” I said. “You know, she was the one that started it. I heard her talking in the bathroom.”
    He said nothing, I said nothing. Our only accompaniment was the symphonic clashing of street sounds; car horns, screeching breaks, laughter and wind through the tree branches.
    “You're right,” he confessed. “I just - I don't know.”
    “You don't know what?”
    He looked at me, his expression unreadable.
    “I guess I just wanted you to think differently of me.”
    What those words meant, I didn't know. As a friend, as a step-sibling. And no doubt, I understood his attraction. But as I watched him run off in the direction of this girl, scooping her up in his arms with a sugary-sweet laugh, it was hard to take any of his further advances seriously. Especially when his promiscuous ventures eventually erupted, and Marius exchanged numbers and trysts like they were exchangeable gifts with a receipt tucked away in their panties. When finished, he traded them in for the next best thing.
    It wasn't long before our parents married. Marius moved in, along with Vivian, along with his boat of equally-expensive belongings, and along with his attitude.
    “I hope you don't hate me or anything,” he said during the very first night in the mansion. I was in the Great Room, practicing my violin notes.
    He stood in the doorway, silent for a few moments like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he walked away.
    I don't hate the player . My answer, if spoken, would have rung through the halls, if only to fall on deaf ears. I just hate the game .
    The irony was only bitter now.

    The first rule of seduction, unquestionably, is that you don't