S.P.A.R.K.L.E And S.H.I.N.E

Chapter 10-03

Chapter 10-03

He probably looked like a f*****g looney tune, standing there, smiling away, but he refused to head back in until the grin that he cemented in place felt one hundred percent natural.

"Sorry about that," he said as he swayed back inside. The warmth was a welcome greeting, kissing up against his numbed cheeks, and as he dropped back down into his seat, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Was that the prick?" Raven asked, the blunt pads of his fingers drumming against the armrest. The directness of the question had him wincing. There had been a time when Adam had gotten along well with the Toussaint brothers. When they'd all go out drinking together.

Ronan had no idea what had changed. What had caused the shift. He wasn't sure if the twins had done something to upset Adam and that was where all the passive-aggression towards them was coming from, or if he'd just woken up one morning had decided that he wanted to be a giant dildo. The world was a mysterious place, and since Adam wasn't all that big on sharing lately, then the problem had buried itself as one of its many mysteries.

"Yeah." It was harder and harder to keep that smile in place. What, with the brothers looking at him that way, like they could see just how many holes the call had poked in his mood. "He was just seeing where I was and wanted to know if I wanted to grab lunch with him. But I told him I was out with you guys, so it's fine."

Wasn't a lie, and that's what made truths so damn scary. They could be manipulated to fit so easily.

"That right?" Angel deadpanned. He necked back the rest of his drink, pushed to his feet and dusted his hands down the front of his jeans. Raven, who hadn't bothered ordering, mimicked his brother. "Well, in that case, I'm sure he won't mind you spending the rest of the day with us. b***h boy over there bailed on the gym. His princess' feet are hurting."

Raven c****d a grin and a shrug. "He's just pissy because my feet are prettier than his." He flipped his brother off before slinging an arm over Ronan's shoulder. "That was a lie, by the way. I just wanted to spend the day with you. So, what are our plans? Angel said you're dying your hair. Can I do it for you? Oh! We're making a pit stop at Selene's so we can colour match your make-up with whatever colour you go."

Magic. Words. It birthed a conversation of awesomeness, and Adam was almost completely forgotten by the time they'd managed to get around to discussing accessories and shoes. Angel fell behind them, sighing deeply, but otherwise didn't get involved with the excited buzz that was their conversation. Raven suggested doing a Cruella Deville and doing a fifty-fifty dye job, and he was almost tempted.

They mooched around a few shops, and like the spoiled little princess he truly was, Raven doted on him, like he always did. Whether he wanted it or not, the big guy bought it for him. It was the way he was. Since they'd very first become friends, he'd grown accustomed to the fact that if they were out together, Raven was paying. For everything. There were no ifs, buts or coconuts about it.

At first, he'd assumed it was because they used to f**k. That maybe it was Raven's messed up way of saying yeah, I had a great time, you're basically my sugar baby now, bishhh, but he'd quickly dismissed it; Angel had the same 'I got this covered' mindset, but was set apart by the self control needed to avoid buying him three bags worth of gifts from every shop they visited.

That, and nothing had changed between them when their days of screwing had dwindled to an end and he'd started dating Adam. His Ravey-bird still showered him in affection and love. Still checked up on him and spoilt him rotten. Man, he truly envied the guy who made an honest man outta Raven, because they were going to be treated like royalty. Like the way Angel doted on Luci, but more extreme because Rave didn't do things by halves.

"What should I get Lucien for Christmas, Angie-pie?" he asked when they hit a supermarket for hair dye. The brothers had spread out either side of him like his own personal bodyguards. Raven carried a basket that was inconspicuously filling as they went along, and Angel's hands were heavy with the things that Raven had already insisted on buying him. So far, he'd got a new makeup pallet. Silly putty. A new storage and travel case for any beautifying accessories he had lying around, and a whole lot of other pointless but adorable stuff.

He felt bad; he didn't have the heart, or the courage, to tell Raven that Adam had tossed out the last make-up he'd bought him. But if he thought that was bad, he trembled at the thought of explaining what had happened to Teddy. Raven had made him promise that he'd tell him if Adam did anything to him, but he was scared it was going to cause conflict so he buckled on his word.

"Nothing with glitter in," came Angel's reply. "This way."

Ronan had set the pace and the direction, but the other man's command had him changing course and following blindly.

"What about sequins?"

"I can deal with sequins," Angel said. "I was going to ask you to make him one of those crocheted things you were making. A Pikachu one. He'd love that."

"Oh!" Smacking his forehead, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes and chide himself. "I could make him and Sly matching Little sets for Christmas and it'd be adorable!"

His online business was far from booming, and perhaps on the struggling end of the rope, but there had been an interest. He'd started small by crocheting stuffies, customised to the buyer's liking, and making Little bundles: Pacifiers, a blanket, a customised bottle and a colouring set with a variety of books to choose from.

The idea behind it was that he knew how hard it could be being a closeted, underage Little, so he'd wanted to start a service to help them out. The name that showed up on the bank statements was wonderfully innocent, nothing to concern nosey parents, and he offered discreet postage. He'd even send them to click-and-collect boxes that some stores offered if the person couldn't have mail delivered without it being checked.