Screw it I meant this to be posted in two parts because it's insanely long, but I can't find a good place to break it in half so hopefully, this brightens someone's quarantine. All of yall updating and posting new stories are honestly inspiring. I meant to have this done a lot sooner but originally it was two chapters that had to be written together because I woke up the night after posting the last chapter to five reviews that made me so happy. Shoutouts to anj, Nameless, Doctor Kay Strange, mnbvcxz-xx, and virtue01 and bibliophile609 for your reviews!
Disclaimer: I've never been to a party on a yacht or to California or Alaska don't me for inaccuracies I researched as good as I could! It's a fanfiction.
Check the Pinterest for vibes, gowns, yacht visuals, assorted aesthetics, if you got nothing better to do. I certainly didn't when I made it this chapter has like 80 pins.
Drink some water and grab a snack goons this chapter is LONG.
…
If she closed her eyes, Georgia could almost pretend she was home. There weren't mountains in Angeles, and it was nowhere near as cold as the icy air on the Yukon coast where even in summer you could feel the frosty chill of the sound. It was barely cool enough here, on the last night of the year, to even see her breath in the air. The condensation joined with the smoke from her cigarette, to disappear over the Santa Monica Bay. The lights on land from the city were almost blinding, not like the cluster of lights from Sitka, from home, from her memories.
She remembered that summer in Sitka in shades of silver. The sun barely sunk below the mountains at night, leaving them in a temporary false twilight for only a few hours before it made its appearance again. On the still pane of silvery water, on General Caine's favorite pleasure craft, it was always a bit cold. Summer in Yukon was too short to warm up the water properly, even with the seemingly endless days. Gray cigarette smoke-they all smoked too much that summer. The white of her dress, silver in the midnight dusk. Eyes that were blue silver in the light, his blonde hair flopped over his eyes no matter how much he slicked it back. The dimple on one side of his face that tended to make its appearance far more often when he was with her, sliding his coat off his shoulders and draping it over hers. Wondering if he ever suspected she wasn't what she pretended to be, or the possibility that he wasn't either.
It was the same ocean, at least, she told herself. Georgia tapped the ash from her cigarette on the railing of the royal yacht, watching the embers float down to the water below. She wasn't cold, not with the fur draped over her bare shoulders, though Ophelia had been extremely upset early, saying the party was ruined because of the cold front moving through. There was one thing Georgia was good at-and that was planning a party. She had no reason to believe that this one wouldn't be a success just because of fifty-degree temperatures.
She did have other reasons, however. One of them manifesting in the first of the guests boarding the yacht as the rest of the Elite scrambled around with last-minute preparations. Vera should be on her way back to the palace to arrive with Wesley (she had won the rock-paper-scissors that Eleanor insisted on). None of the royals had arrived, though Eleanor and Ophelia were dutifully greeting the first of the guests as they embarked. Iris and Veyra were looking over the food and drinks one last time, Dresden was supposed to be confirming the fireworks with the head of security. Georgia had already finished her set up duties and had taken a few minutes to herself before the party started.
Unfortunately, that time was being cut short. Lieutenant Jason Trevelyne looked terribly out of place—he needed to shave, a good night's sleep, and a better fitting tuxedo. He looked at the other guests like he thought they were about to drag him away or throw him overboard, which she supposed they might if they knew who he was. Last Georgia had heard, he had been elected in Yukon for their senator in the wake of new elections as the provinces had been restored, on account of all the rest of the leaders were dead or imprisoned. He was being considered for a spot of King Andrew's expanding Council, a tentative olive branch toward the leftover government of Yukon and Atlin as they tried to reconstruct the nation to what it had been. Last she had heard too, he was cooperating. Not that he had much choice. That probably was why he was here tonight. She watched as Jason accepted a drink from one of the staff under Eleanor's watchful eye, awkwardly thanking the footman with a nod. He looked at Georgia then, like he knew she was watching him. It didn't last long. Jason looked away, pretending it had never happened. As if you could—pretend things had never happened. Georgia never quite believed in that. The cold, the sway of the yacht under her feet, Jason looking at her with some degree of scorn—none of it was unfamiliar. She could almost be home.
Almost.
Back in the days of the war, Jason Trevelyne would have been well dressed and courteous, a stark contrast to his ill-fitting suit and avoidance of her tonight. They would probably be on the water too—Georgia had learned long ago that that was one of the best places to hold a party. The boats in harbor sound in Sitka had been popular with the rebels in Yukon, with General Caine especially. Sitka had always been a hotbed of rebel activity, from Mitch Levi's attempted coup to the secession and the war. It was close and far enough at the same time to the front in St. George, close enough to the provisional government in Atlin and far away enough from any real danger. There were plenty of boats commandeered from the wealthy rebel society, though they were nothing that compared to the yacht of the royal family. The endless summer sun in the nights and days in Yukon were filled with parties on the pleasure craft in the Sitka harbor, and Georgia remembered them fondly. The Sorrels had hosted General Caine and his staff at their home like it was an honor. Sometimes it seemed there were more parties than fighting and society connections mattered more than political attachments.
In those days, Jason had always followed his brother around. Cody Trevelyne was General Caine's brash young captain, and he didn't take too kindly to Georgia's attachment to the General, not when she could be winning him over. He was the insufferable kind of boy who curried so much favor everywhere he went with both his superiors and every female who laid eyes on him. The party where she had first met the Trevelyne brothers had been kind of like this, except the midnight sun ruled instead of the lights of Angeles. It certainly hadn't been the last- both men were part of Caine's staff, occupying the Sorrel home as the general made Sitka his headquarters for the summer. Between her parent's wealth and place in Yukon society, their home had been the logical choice for quartering the general of the army of St. George. Jason had never been promoted beyond a second lieutenant, though then Cody had been an arrogant and newly made captain. It didn't take long before he found himself a Lieutenant Colonel despite his age and to his older brother's chagrin. He had told Georgia once it was a tragedy of age—as the men who were qualified enough to hold these ranks died, men who had no business holding them had to take their place. Then, Georgia had rolled her eyes at his insolence and turned her attentions on the general, not telling him what she really believed -that none of them had any business at all holding any rank that wasn't from the crown.
It didn't matter now, she supposed. With her help, Cody Trevelyne had made a mistake that cost General Caine most of his army and had been thought to have died along with the soldiers until the news of the Public Trials broke. General Caine was in jail, General Hunter in Atlin was dead, and even the Berlins were being put on trial, along with the rest of them in a few weeks. Jason had only got off in the end because he cooperated and was a far lesser officer than the rest of them. If he made a wrong move, it would no doubt make things go worse for his brother, and Georgia knew Jason would do almost anything for Cody.
The country was back in one piece. Everything was as it should be. Almost.
She didn't relish the idea of the Public Trials, in fact, she dreaded it. She had been called on to testify even before Wesley had asked her to accompany him, Fallon, and Vera. All her actions would be staring at her dead in the face, spread out for the whole world to see. The Selection had come just in time for Georgia. She had left Yukon, scorned by her family, her friends, everyone she ever knew. It was land of strong sediments of rebellion and they had never got over her betrayal. In her heart she knew what she did was right—at least she kept telling herself that.
Georgia put out the remnants of her cigarette, not letting herself think that Jason's avoidance hurt her more than she cared to admit. Being so far from home in the glitter of the Selection, it was easy to pretend that everything she did had never happened. Seeing him, looking rather lost and beaten down by the world, that made everything real.
She adjusted the neckline of her gold lacquered gown, pulling her fur closer over her bare shoulders. She watched across the deck as Jason greet Fallon under one of the heaters installed over a food table, like neither one of them had ever been involved with the rebellion and the civil war. She held out a white-gloved hand and Jason kissed her knuckles like she was a princess in her own right. She very well could have been, Georgia reflected, had things gone differently for the north. She watched Jason talk to her, and it could have been a trick of the light, but Fallon didn't quite seem so frozen as usual. She remembered meeting the girl before, in Atlin, where she had attended a reception in the Berlin family home with General Caine, one almost as nice as the Shreave palace. She didn't buy the act then, and she didn't buy it now. The Berlin family had one ambition and that was power. She wondered if the rumor about Fallon being involved with one of the servants was true.
Prime Minister Evans and his wife arrived then, a glittering couple as usual with the First Lady garbed in a gown of pale blue embossed with gold, a red ribbon tied at her throat to display the Illean colors. Georgia watched Jason make a hasty retreat, leaving Fallon with her wrap draped tightly around her shoulders. She looked the picture of innocence, her creamy tulle gown softly embroidered with golden roses and sitting off her shoulders, setting off her blue eyes and the dark brown of her hair twisted up on top of her head. White and gold, the colors of the north. How strange that two former northern girls should be found down south. Georgia was a poster girl for the rebellion, Fallon nearly so too in her own right. And now they were here in Angeles, competing for the hand of a Shreave prince.
Maybe that's what made her approach Fallon Berlin, who regarded suspiciously, her head thrown back in what could nearly be described as haughtiness if her eyes weren't practically dying of fright. Maybe it was how Jason ignored her and not Fallon, frankly, she didn't care.
"You know the Trevelyne's?" she asked, standing next to Fallon as they surveyed the guests.
Fallon didn't look at her. "Everyone knew them," she replied quietly, hugging her shawl closer. "Me included."
"Everyone knew you too."
Fallon glanced sideways at her for a second. "You were no exception yourself. You went everywhere with General Caine until the army went south."
"I know."
What a tangled web of lies.
…
Wesley had promised himself he was going to be okay, and he was. Next year. Right after this party. As in the wee hours of the morning. He still had a few hours left in the old year, and he planned to enjoy them to the fullest.
"I can't wait to see how you guys did," he told Vera, sitting next to him in the limo. "Hopefully we make it there without coming under fire like last time I was in a car with you."
Vera rolled her eyes at him, something he noticed she did a lot, but he plainly saw her fighting back a smile. "Don't joke about that," she said, voice serious.
Okay, so he did a few shots with her before they had left. It was New Year's Eve.
He poked his finger at her cheek, in the dimple that appeared every so often, and typically when she was trying not to smile. "It's how I deal with trauma."
Vera looked at him, tucking her messy blonde waves behind her ears. "That's unhealthy."
Wesley shrugged and leaned his head on her shoulder. Vera sighed.
"This is why I don't like New Years,"
"You don't like Christmas either," Wesley pointed out. "But you like me, right?"
She rolled her eyes again, her lips twitching as she tried to act mad. She had won the duties of acting as his escort out to the yacht tonight and while Wesley was happy with the outcome, he had the feeling Vera was rethinking it. New Year's Eve was his favorite holiday, after all.
"I don't do parties. Especially not like this," Vera said. She had already ditched him before they left the palace to swap the gown the rest of the Selected had approved for a far simpler look. Her silk navy blue evening gown was something he'd seen her wear to dinner before, and she had her favorite leaver jacket thrown over her shoulders and a flat pair of combat boots hidden under the hem of her dress.
"I love parties," Wesley said, still using her as a pillow. "And I love that this feels like a date with all of you but you're still the one picking me up."
Vera jiggled her arm in an attempt to dislodge his head. "This part was Eleanor's idea. Too bad she isn't here, missing out on this magical time with you, drunk before we even get to the party."
"It was two shots!"
She seemed a little pissed and he didn't blame her. They had basically been spending every night together for the last month until the last couple of days when he had ignored her without any explanation. He should probably apologize for that.
"Hey, Vera?" he mumbled into her jacket sleeve. "I'm sorry for ghosting you. I think I just needed some space."
He felt her shrug. "It's fine. You could have just told me yourself instead of having your bodyguard not let me in your room."
"I'm literally sitting right here," Nick said from the front seat of the limo. He turned around in the seat. "Hey Wesley, you really going through with this?" he held out the copy of New Year's resolutions Wesley had faxed him.
Wesley sat up. "Yeah. And your job is to make sure I keep them, okay?"
Nick raised an eyebrow. "You're going to quit drinking?"
Wesley nodded. "Yep. At midnight tonight. Actually, probably not midnight, but like before tomorrow."
"Let me see that," Vera snatched it out of Nick's hands before he could stop her. Wesley tried to grab it back, but she held it out of his reach. "Let's see, quit drinking, quit drinking…you're going to therapy?"
Wesley could feel his face getting hot. "Well…yeah. I thought I might try it. It can't hurt can it?" He took advantage of her distraction to grab the list back.
She shrugged again; her body language suddenly closed off. "I went to one once. Cute little office, really nice lady. She gave me a prescription for some sleeping pills. I took one that night and couldn't wake up from the nightmares. Just be careful."
Wesley nodded. He folded up the list and put it back in his pocket. "Nick, you're in charge, remember? Are we almost there? The last time the three of us tried to go somewhere it sucked."
"I actually have a date to this thing too, so…" Nick said.
"Uh, what?"
"It's usually my night off, but I volunteered to work tonight because I was going to be there anyway."
"You have…a date?" Wesley stammered. "With who?"
"None of your business," his bodyguard said. "But just so you know."
Vera leaned her head back against the headrest. "Ughh, I really don't want to go to this thing," she looked sideways at Wesley. "Wanna skip? We could go to the beach or something."
"Tempting, but the other Elite would hate me."
Vera groaned again. "They already hate me."
"They don't hate you," Wesley assured her. "They just—"
"Don't like me? Yeah. I know." Vera crossed her arms over her body. She noticed him watching her. "What?"
"Maybe I should try harder to pay equal attention to everyone." Wesley mused. Vera scoffed.
"That's bullshit, but okay. I just over it."
Wesley said. Sometimes it annoyed him when she did this, telling she had feelings for him that scared her but treating the Selection like it didn't matter. "You could try making more of an effort."
She looked away from him, staring out the window. Undoubtedly, she rolled her eyes.
"I'll take you to the beach soon though, I promise. Maybe when it's warmer."
"It's not even cold," Vera said, her back to him. Definity even more pissed.
"it's fifty degrees that's literally freezing."
"In St. George we call that a nice day," Vera closed her eyes as she laid her head back again, and while she didn't seem mad, she wasn't exactly his biggest fan at the moment. "Wimp."
In the front seat, Nick laughed. Wesley aimed a kick at his seat. "Oh, shut up, Mr. Secret Date."
It seemed like they were one of the last cars to arrive to the area where the yacht was docked. It was already dark even though it was barely six, the air cold to Wesley but salty and the briskness sobered him up a little. The lights of the city glowed as brightly as any stars, and he could even see the lights of the palace on the hills from here.
"Ah, that smells like freedom," he said to Vera as she clambered out, refusing any help and not needing it in her boots. "The last time I left the palace we were getting shot at."
"Don't remind me," she tucked her hair behind her ears. Nick trailed them as they approached the throngs of cameras and reporters and assorted media, and Vera placed her hand lightly on her arm.
"I kinda hate this, but I'm not going anywhere," she muttered quietly to him as they stopped long enough to smile and wave for pictures.
"I'm glad," he whispered back, giving the reporters a final wave before heading to the yacht itself.
Ophelia and Eleanor were the first to welcome him, and he almost didn't recognize them they were so incredibly gorgeous. They were slightly coordinated, he noticed. Ophelia's cherry blossom pink gown was made of lace, covered with sparkling beading, the lace softly creeping from her torso and shoulders over a full skirt of tulle. Her bronze skin was equally glowing, her hair slicked into an elegant bun, sparkly blush eyeshadow lighting up her face. Eleanor wore powder-blue, the gown a similar off-the-shoulder/full skirt silhouette to Ophelia's but covered with metallic details. Her dark brown hair was softly curled, and she had a delicate headband on her hair that looked suspiciously like a tiara, but he didn't dwell on it.
"Wesley!" Eleanor greeted him with a squeal and Ophelia beamed when she saw them stepping off the gangway that connected the yacht to the dock.
"Welcome to by far the most under-rated and neglected space of the palace!" she teased, referencing their unofficial date from a few nights ago.
His first thought when stepping onboard was wow. The whole place was lit up like…like a royal yacht on New Year's Eve, he supposed. There were bright white lights strung up over everything and wrapped around the railings of the decks, along with heat lamp things over tables of food and drinks and sitting areas. Lights from under the ship were even illuminating the water around them. He looked up, counting two more levels of the boat above them, people gathered in groups along the railings. There was even one deck lower at the waterline though it wasn't as lit up or much occupied. It sported a pool he hoped he wouldn't end the night by drunk jumping into, as tempting as it was. He caught glimpses of the other Elite as well as his family members scattered around, and members of the Council and the usual residents of the palace from Ethan's Selection. As he had been informed ahead of time, all the men wore black tuxedos. The women, however, resembled the royal jewelry vault, dressed in gowns of shimmering fabric or decorated with glittering beads that caught the light. As he stood at the entrance ogling everything, Vera squeezed his hand and slipped away into the crowd with only a quick smile.
"Did she change?" he heard Eleanor whisper to Ophelia. Their gowns were far fancier Vera's leather jacket ensemble, and it did seem strange now that she had changed. He wasn't interested in Selection drama, and Alyex arrived just in time to distract them. Her gown was metallic silvery yards of tulle belted at the waist; a similar hued faux fur draped over on arm. "I think it turned out pretty good!" she said to Eleanor and Ophelia, who affirmed her statements with exuberance.
"I can't believe we pulled it off," Ophelia said.
Alyex turned to Wesley. "What do you think?"
"It's incredible," Wesley said, trying to take everything in. The lowest deck (other than the pool deck) was where they currently were, the deck area occupied with small tables and chairs to take advantage of food and drink stations and heat lamps. The dining stateroom was located on this level, the doors open to the dinner buffet and full bar inside. "How did you even get an eight-piece orchestra on here," he said, pointing to the third deck where the musicians were stationed against the railing. The yacht was certainly no Great Room and dancing proved to be a little difficult on shifting decks, but people were still doing their best on the second deck, the one that didn't host any staterooms and had been left mostly bare of furniture for dancing purposes.
"We had to get creative with the piano. The top deck is off-limits, except for them and your family," Alyex explained. Wesley could see Christine and Nicole with their kids up on the top deck and he waved to his nieces and nephews, thankful that the Selected had included an area for his family to retreat. "That's where the staterooms are anyway, and it's kind of small anyway." She turned to the others. "Hey, Ophelia, I think Wesley and Vera were the last, we're ready to embark."
Ophelia excused herself to go double-check and talk to the captain, and Wesley turned to Nick, who was awkwardly trailing him, though he had managed to already procure a drink from somewhere.
"Hey where'd you get that?" he asked but didn't wait for a reply. "We're about to be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I think I'm okay. Go find your date." His bodyguard looked unconvinced, rolling his eyes at his charge. Damn, all these people needed to stop rolling their eyes at him. "I'll be fine. There are other guards anyway."
"Honestly I'm more worried about you drinking too much and falling overboard," Nick said. As if to prove his point, there was a loud honk and the yacht lurched forward, sending Wesley stumbling into the railing, only stopped from falling by Eleanor and Alyex grabbing his arms. "Or cracking your head open."
"We'll keep an eye on him," Eleanor gave Nick a winning smile. He just scowled and sighed heavily.
"Fine," he shook his head. "Remember, resolutions start tomorrow."
Wesley didn't dwell on the future too long, planning to enjoy himself in the moment. "Veyra told me the other day she worked all night on a signature drink," he said to Alyex, holding out his arm. "Take me to it."
Alyex giggled at him, obligingly grabbing his arm and leading him to the bar. Everywhere he looked, it was amazing. It was honestly as good as any of the parties his mom or sisters-in-law had ever planned, if not better. It helped that the yacht was really cool too. The breeze was a little cold, but Wesley was glad for his tuxedo jacket. Most of the women wore long-sleeved gowns or wraps or furs around shoulders. Alyex gave him the lowdown on the rest of the Selected as they got drinks and sampled some of the food.
"Ophelia and Eleanor worked like crazy on this. Eleanor was practically crying earlier she was so stressed out. I think they really want to impress you. They were both really mad when Vera won escort duties, especially because she really didn't do any of the work."
"Anyone else mad about her changing when she went to get me?"
Alyex shrugged, sipping her champagne. "It's kind of weird to do, don't you think? The dress code is white-tie and she just wears her leather jacket and an evening gown."
"You got me on fashion," Wesley shrugged, going straight for some little bacon-wrapped things. He hecking loved bacon-wrapped appetizers.
"Also, Georgia's been hiding out in her room a lot lately, though she got all her work done for the party and I daresay she did an amazing job on her stuff. Lillian's been weird since that dinner you guys had, but other than that everyone seems fine."
"Did you seriously spy on them for me?" Wesley asked around a mouthful of hors d'oeuvrs, grinning.
Alyex laughed, and at least tried to wink, though it was more of a blink. "You asked me to be your friend, I'm trying to help!"
Wesley was laughing too, almost choking on his drink. He had already spewed crumbs everywhere when Alyex's laughter died in her throat and her eyes got wide. Wesley turned to see him mom approaching them, but when he turned back Alyex had already made her escape. He tried to chew quickly and look relatively normal. The dowager queen was her usual level of extra, wearing black velvet covered with glittering silver beading, shoulders left bare but half sleeves starting above her elbows and going to her wrist, a black fur stole nestled in the crick of her arms. She was wearing one of her biggest crowns, the intimating one, as Wesley liked to think of it. He could easily see why Alyex had run off.
"Hey Mom," he greeted her. "Hors d'oeuvr?"
Francesca smiled as she reached him. "Happy New Year, Wes," she planted a cold kiss on his cheek. "Your Selected did a wonderful job. You have at least a couple of good options for princesses among them."
His chest tightened a little at the implication, but then he remembered that was a problem for next year. "Ha ha, yeah."
"I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Lady Alyex lately," she raised her eyebrows in asking. "Is she…special to you?"
He didn't know if his mom would quite appreciate a friendship with a Selected, he had never got around to asking Ethan about his with Nat.
"She's easy to talk to," he came up with.
"What about Lady Dresden?" his mom spoke softly, standing close enough so only he could hear her. He looked to where she motioned, seeing Dresden looking glamorous in a sheer translucent long-sleeved deep magenta gown, her lipstick equally dark. An obviously fake smile was pasted on her face as she spoke to Ben and Nat.
"We have an…understanding." Since he had last talked to her, they hadn't really made any progress on their attempted friendship, though the hostility on her part had calmed down.
"Interestingly enough," his mom said, lowering her voice anymore. "The governor of Columbia is in attendance tonight, and he just spoke to me about allegations against Lady Dresden regarding the black market and smuggling charges."
He didn't know what to say. He turned around to the food table again to try to busy himself. If he looked at Dresden, she would know, and he just couldn't look at his mom right now.
"Whether they are true or not," she continued like she hadn't said anything. "Such rumors are not befitting to a lady of the Selection."
Wesley focused his gaze on the ocean, on the lights of Angeles getting further and further away. Dresden wasn't special to him. They'd had a grand total of one civil conversation and even that hadn't got them very far. It was just the control slipping further and further away from him. He'd held off on eliminating any of the Elite for this reason. He didn't want to be faced with this decision. He wasn't ready.
He tried to speak but his mouth felt like cotton. "I'll…" he tried again. "I'll talk to her."
"You can't marry a girl whose accused of being a criminal, Wes," Francesca said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. "True or not."
He swallowed back a remark he would regret as she patted his shoulder and left, draining the rest of his drink instead and turning to the ocean, the cool rush of air a contrast to the burn of alcohol in his throat.
"You like my drink, Shreave?" Veyra joined him as he coughed a little on the bite of gin. "I worked for ages on that."
"It's strong," he said, voice cracking as he cleared his throat. "Yeehaw. What's in it?"
"Grapefruit juice, rosemary syrup, and gin. It's amazing, isn't it?"
"Get me another," he said, pushing the whole Dresden fiasco out of his mind. She deserved to at least enjoy herself for a little while. Wesley planned on doing the same. "Dude, you're not wearing black," he said to Veyra as she asked the bartender for two more. "Well, not all black." The top part of her dress was a black and gold overlay on sheer gauze on her sleeves and neckline, the gold fading down her body to black skirts. She picked up both drinks as the bartender set them down and handed one to Wesley.
"New Years is supposed to be fun. I thought gold was appropriate."
"Very," he agreed, sipping his drink. After giving her the praise she deserved and that he suspected he was going to have to give a lot more of tonight for very good reasons, she dragged him into the dining room area to sample all the real food, since that had been her and Iris's part of the planning. They found Iris there too, pretending not to keep an eye on everything. Her dress was simpler, blood-orange colored, made of a billowing lacquered fabric that caught the light just as well as Veyra's gold sequins and the metalwork on his mother's gown. The matching smart bolero jacket was very Iris—all angles and sharp clean lines.
"Hey!" her face broke into a smile upon seeing them. It was contagious, but Wesley still felt a little nervous. At first, he had really liked Iris, she was shy but in a cute way, and he thought they had good chemistry. After the whole fiasco downtown in Joseph and Lissa and an unfortunate pair of shorts, he had never quite been able to reconnect with Iris like he originally had. Maybe he was embarrassed, maybe he just had issues.
"I hear food was your specialty," he said as she stepped back from hugging him greeting. "Veyra's drinks are really strong so I need to eat."
"I told you!" Iris said to Veyra.
Veyra ignored her. "You have to try the carving station. And the rolls? I would literally kill someone for them."
He had no doubt she would, and he eagerly filled his plate with the two girls on either side. They found an empty table outside and sat down together as the yacht sailed further out into the bay. If he thought the appetizers were good, dinner was better. He hadn't even made it up to the second deck and the party was already better than he could have imagined. He was groaning at the thought of dessert that they were both more excited about than dinner, so he took them up the second deck to dance. Everyone was up there, it seemed. He said hi to his brothers and their wives, avoided his mom, suffered through Nicole, Nat, Gracie, and Adele tell him how cute he was and how amazing the Selected had done, and recount their own stories (again). He was feeling much much better after a few of Veyra's cocktails and dinner, and Iris giggled as he sloppily steered her in a waltz, almost falling again when the yacht rocked beneath them. She to leave to go make sure the dessert buffet set up was going smoothly, so he asked Veyra next.
"So, is this how you always celebrate New Year's?" he asked her as they danced.
Veyra's dark eyes looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Always. We always take the yacht out with a hundred of our famous friends," she deadpanned, sarcastic as always. "I always pull an all-nighter to get my stuff planned too."
"And here I thought secret agents always did way cooler things than princes," he fired back, but bantering with her took his mind off the dance he almost collided them with another couple.
"Well one New Years' Eve…" she trailed off, her eyebrows crinkling. "How much security clearance do you have?"
"Vey, I'm a prince!"
She smirked at him. "I'm pretty sure it was classified, so I can't tell you."
He assured her he had clearance she still refused to tell the story no matter how he begged as they danced a few more songs. The begging turned into joking and soon they were both giggling too hard to talk or dance on the shifting deck and decided that was enough dancing for now and went in search of more drinks.
Back down on the lower deck, she insisted he do shots with her while the bartender made their cocktails. He knew he certainly looked like a mess when Nick rolled up to the bar, but at that point, he no longer cared.
"I knew it, you really didn't have a date, did you?" Wesley said as his bodyguard shook his head in disapproval at Wesley's increasingly drunk state.
"I'm grabbing drinks," he explained, nodding to Veyra who was also increasingly tipsy. "Lady Veyra. How's the early no caffeine resolution going?" Wesley remembered sending him out to grab coffee for her during their Christmas cookie baking and thought it was nice of Nick to remember.
Veyra smoothed back her hair, her cheeks flushed with alcohol. "Oh, I totally gave that up. It was a trial run and didn't go well in the slightest," she giggled slightly. "I'm sticking with the caffeine."
"You should see this guy's list," Nick jerked his head in Wesley's direction.
"Unfortunately, that is also under a security clearance," Wesley said quickly, standing up and fully prepared to cover Nick's mouth with his hand in case he decided to spill the beans. He couldn't explain why the girls knowing about his plans and inevitably his vices made him so uncomfortable, but it just did. The only reason Vera knew was that she had shared things in a similar vein with him. It was just different with Vera. And despite the similarity of their names, his relationship with Veyra was totally different than his with Veyra. It was playful and teasing and flirting and not serious but serious at the same time.
"Hey, Elvira, my bodyguard's breaking security clearance," he yelled to the brunette as she approached the bar. He clapped his hand over Nick's mouth as he started listing presumably Wesley's resolutions, though it was hard to understand him. Veyra collapsed into a fit of giggles.
Elvira crossed her arms, giving Wesley her best superior officer look, though in her gown it was hard to see her as a military figure. Like Veyra, she preferred wearing black all the time and this one was no exception, the deep v-cut was belted at the waist, the delicate black fabric glittering with beading and silvery inlay, a short black fur cape over her back. "He needs a new assignment."
"Wesley, I am not hauling your ass out of the ocean or the pool in a few hours when you decide to take the plunge," Elvira said, her blue eyes sparkling. "That's Nick's job."
Nick pried Wesley's hand off. "I won't say anything!" he held up his hands, finally consenting to smile for once in his life. "Remember-" he pointed at Wesley and then turned to the bar to pick up the drinks he had ordered. "They start tomorrow."
"You keep telling me that," Wesley grabbed his own drink as well. "You also keep saying that you have a date and I still don't believe you. Oh, hey Elvs, congrats on the promotion. It was long overdue." Veyra echoed his congratulations.
Elvira smiled her usual close-mouthed smile. "It was officially changed months ago, but there was so much going on after the war I didn't care if it waited awhile to be announced." She looked at Nick and he smiled at her, wow that was a record, two smiles in two minutes. She plucked the other drink from his hand.
"You're going to have to excuse me if I still call you captain even though you're a general now, that's just how I always know you—holy shit."
Elvira sipped her drink through a straw. "Wes, you never call me by my title …what?"
"Holy shit." Wesley replayed the interaction he had just seen in his head and it all came together. He almost dropped his drink and leaned against the bar, knowing that if the yacht lurched right now he would most certainly fall. "Holy shit—Nick's your date?"
He watched them take each other's hands, Nick's face getting steadily redder as he chuckled and looked down.
"Uh…" Elvira looked at the three of them in turn, her face very confused. "Nick's my boyfriend."
He felt his mouth drop open. "WELL WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?"
"After you and Vera were attacked...You didn't tell him?" Elvira turned to Nick, her voice a furtive whisper.
"He's my boss!" Nick protested. "It wasn't a secret or anything."
"WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME?" Wesley yelled. He looked at Veyra for support, but she had turned back to her drink. "I mean like you have my blessing and I'm happy for you…I just did not see that coming. Damn."
The couple looked at him like he was crazy, which he probably was. He expected to feel something—pain or sadness—at the thought of Elvira moving on when he had just found out about her unfinished romance with Drake during the war before he had died. He was surprised to find that the total opposite was true. It was like a warm glow had filled his heart—one that only had slightly to do with the alcohol. He broke into a grin and held up his drink. "I propose a toast to y'all."
They rolled their eyes in sync, so he basically decided he was going to be the flower boy at their wedding then and there. They toasted anyway, and while his heart clenched just a little at wishing Drake could be here instead-but life moved on. He knew his friend would want both him and Elvira to go with it. He took a deep breath as Elvira and Nick fought about who-asked-who out first, taking a moment to remember in the cold salt-tinged air and the slight haze in his brain from drinking, the warmth in Elvira's eyes and how Nick looked at her when she was talking, the feel of Veyra's hand in his as he impulsively grabbed it. Sometimes things felt like they were spiraling further and further out of his control, but times like this—he knew he would be just fine.
Nick and Elvira left after they turned him positively mushy, claiming they were going to dance (though he had his suspicions). Wesley finished his drink. "You wanna go to?" he asked Veyra. "Man, I am going to never drink grapefruit juice after tonight, am I?"
She laughed at him, her nose wrinkling. "Hangovers are always the best way to start the new year." Even though she was always sarcastic, her comment fell a little flat, and he noticed her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she sat stirring the ice of her drink.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
She shrugged, hiking her shoulders up to her ears. "Nothing. Just drank too much, I think. I'm ready for bed."
"It's not even close to midnight yet!"
She slipped out of her seat. "I stayed up most of last night to finish planning this dumb party," she yawned, trying to cover up with her hand. "I never want to do that again."
Things suddenly felt weird between them and Wesley didn't like it. "Well, everything's been great so far. This whole thing is amazing."
Her smile back was half-hearted. The cocktails and the chemistry flying between Nick and Elvira made the next choice for him, he didn't think before one hand was on her cheek and he was leaning down to kiss her. Her lips tasted like gin and grapefruit, but the hand she placed on his chest felt tense, almost like she was pushing him away. She ducked her head before it could go much further. "I know the drinks are strong," she said, "but please don't end up in the ocean, okay? You've got a lot of girls to dance with still."
She snuck off into the crowd, leaving him alone at the bar. He didn't have long to think about it before reinforcements arrived in the form of his brothers and friends, Andrew, Ethan, Ben, and Colin, who bucked him with a few shots before the five of them went back up the second deck (and only Wesley fell on the stairs) to disgrace their wives and Selected with their presences. By the time Wesley got up to the second floor of the yacht, he was confident he'd had enough to drink. The weird vibe he felt with Veyra didn't stay in his mind, neither did the looming conversation he would have to have with Dresden. Thankfully, neither girl was present in the yacht's makeshift ballroom of the second deck. In fact, the Elite kept ducking in and out of the entire party, constantly checking to make sure things were going smoothly. He danced with Alyex first, it seemed a good place to start. Vera refused him with her usual smirk when he asked her, preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch the others and not put up with his drunken antics. Luckily, Eleanor was happy to oblige him a dance, and he didn't even step on her feet this time, unlike the Victory Ball. He suspected it was because she led him instead of the other way around but who cared. He danced with Iris again, then one with Lillian that was still awkward after the dinner disaster. He even got Fallon to do one with him, though she said she was way too cold to oblige him a second. He got in a dance with his mom, Nicole, and Christine, though he absolutely refused one with Nat and of course Colin and Adele only danced with each other and he didn't risk asking Elvira. Georgia had gone back to the lower deck, but he went ahead and checked her off his obligatory dance list. The yacht was pretty far out into the bay now, and it was rocking a little more than he would have liked. Ophelia was last, agreeing with a delighted smile as she took his offered hand. The blush pink full skirt of her gown swirled around her, effortless glamourous as always. She basically belonged in a ballroom, he decided.
"So, I heard," he began as they took their positions and he clumsily led her in a waltz, "that you were one of the ones who worked the hardest on this."
She looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. "It was important to me," she said simply. "I work hard on things that are important."
"Well, it's incredible."
She smiled. "Thanks. I think everyone got a little fed up with me, I was trying so hard to make everything perfect."
Wesley looked around, exaggerating his movements. "It looks pretty perfect to me; I don't know what you're talking about."
Ophelia laughed. "I think I built it up too much in my head. No matter how hard I worked, I couldn't live up to my expectations."
He looked at her, though she avoided eye contact and he felt unsteady as the yacht deck jostled under his feet. Not mention the gin coursing through his veins. He remembered how the words had died on his lips in the Observatory the other night and felt about the same way then. He wanted to say she and all her hard work most definitely lived up to his expectations for tonight, but the words seemed stuck I throat. All that came out was, "You did a great job."
He had to sit the next couple of dances out since the yacht moving under his feet (and the shots, definitely the shots) was starting to make him queasy, but he found Nicole up on the top deck, in a similar situation. She wore a glittering pale pink satin gown, with long cape-sleeves trailing the floor.
"Hey," he said, flopping down in the chaise lounge next to hers against the railing, feeling the buzz in his head from drinking. The top deck was smaller than the other two, and they had a pretty good view of the party from up here, not to mention the musicians stationed at the other end of the deck. "what's up?"
"I'm either pregnant or seasick," Nicole greeted him with a smile, her hands resting on the swell of her belly. "Probably both."
Wesley laughed, and they watched below as Nat dragged Ethan out to dance with her. He wondered when this was all over if any of his former Selected would stick around the palace the way Ethan's had.
"So did my mom tell you or any of the other coordinators about Dresden?"
"Just me and Christine," Nicole said. "Have you decided what to do?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I've been avoiding her. I guess I'll just see what she has to say."
"If it's true she can't really stay in the Selection," Nicole said. "You know that, right? Charges of smuggling, especially to the rebels…"
"Some of the other girls have pretty bad raps too," he pointed out. "Georgia was on their posters, Fallon's family…"
"They didn't try to hide any of that." Nicole pointed out.
"And they came from northern provinces," Wesley agreed. He leaned his head against his hand and sighed.
"Sorry," Nicole was looking at him, her forehead creased. "I know the situation sucks."
"You're telling me."
Down on the second deck, he saw his nieces dancing some three-way waltz with Andrew and smiled. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a familiar figure watching them too. Lissa was wearing the same dress she had worn for the Victory Ball (he wouldn't have forgotten it) and for a second, he mistook her for Vera in her leather jacket since Lissa had a blazer on over her gown. It cleanly separated her from the guests and the staff, even from the top deck. He looked at sister-in-law, finding Nicole watching him.
"Lissa's back?" Last he had heard she had gone home for Christmas, and he hadn't seen her around the palace in a few weeks, he realized.
"She got back this morning," Nicole said. "Volunteered to work tonight too."
He didn't have anything to say to that, nothing that wouldn't implicate the way his heart sped up to see her at this party the Elite had organized. Would he never escape how she made him feel? No matter how he tried, he always felt something when he saw her. He thought of the Christmas present he had for her, still sitting on his desk in his office after he had gone to give it to her and found her already gone.
"You look at her a little too long to be just friends," Nicole's voice brought him back to the present. Heat flooded his face as her implication sunk in.
"We used to be more."
"You can't keep breaking her heart, Wes."
"I know."
It was somehow easy to say these things to Nicole, in the chilly darkness of the middle of the bay, with only the waves and the stars for witnesses. He was going to be just fine, everything was going to be alright, he told himself. He was. Nicole didn't bring it up further and they talked a bit more about the success of the evening until they figured they had hidden out long enough.
Wesley was back on the lower deck just in time for the dessert buffet to open up. He grabbed Iris and made her give him the spiel for all the different desserts. Alyex and Ophelia joined them to sample everything. There were like ten different layer cakes not to mention cupcakes and cake pops on sticks and ice cream and dessert cocktails courtesy of Veyra. He had gone back for his fourth piece of cake and stood eating it out of the way when he finally spied Georgia.
She was holding a glass of wine as she stared out into the darkness of the water around them, the fur stole she wore hanging in the crook of her arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Her dress was simply cut—strapless with a full skirt and unadorned, but the gold jacquard cloth caught the light and commanded plenty of attention that she wasn't already getting. The gold of her gown with her golden blonde hair, half of it twisted in a braid around her head, the other half loose in curls, and the delicate pearl choker she wore only enhanced the look. She looked sad, though. Leaning against the railing, her eyes downcast and lips downturned, like the rest of the party wasn't going on around her.
"Where have you been hiding all night?" Wesley mumbled through the cake as he approached her.
She straightened up quickly, regarding him a cool look. "Parties take a lot of work," she said after a moment to think of a reply. Wesley leaned against the railing next to her, facing inward while she faced the water. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, which probably meant she had been smoking a lot, though her glass looked untouched.
"I looked for you earlier, to ask you to dance," Wesley said, scooping up another bite of cake. It was really good. "Though you probably would have said no."
She looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "How many drinks have you had?"
He shrugged. "Lost count."
"Then I would have said no," she almost smiled.
"Fourth slice of cake though. It's really hecking good."
"Iris had that idea, to do a dessert buffet," she pointed out. "I think everyone likes it," she nodded to the dining stateroom area that was packed with people.
"Everything at a party on a yacht is a million times cooler."
She looked back out over the water. "They're not my favorite type of parties," she said, her voice quiet.
Wesley took another bite of cake. "Oh, that reminds me. I'm quitting smoking next year, so slap me if I ask you for any."
Georgia made a sound that was not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff. "I'll keep that in mind. Can I ask you something?" He nodded his head yes, still eating his cake. "The Public Trials…no one's being sentenced to death, are they?"
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Andrew says no, so I don't have any reason to think so. Why?"
"No reason," she said. "I just don't want to be responsible for anyone to die because of what I say when I testify."
That was about the time he heard Andrew calling his name and waving him over, from the looks of it for far less fun official Council business. He glanced at Georgia. "Wanna come?"
She pursed her lips to one side, considering. "Sure."
The man Andrew and Ethan and Colin were standing with looked very out of place, wearing a black suit instead of the dress code black tuxedo that didn't fit very well. The rest of him was unkept too, he sported stubble but not it an attractive way, light brown hair slicked back haphazardly. Unlike pretty much everyone there, he didn't look happy or buzzed or in any kind of celebratory mood. He looked at the other guests like they were a threat to him.
"What's up," Wesley greeted them, mouth full of cake. He juggled his plate and fork to shake the man's hand.
"Wes, this is Lieutenant Jason Trevelyne, the senator from Yukon. We're also considering him for a spot on the Council for Secretary of Northern Affairs," Andrew said, doing his best to maintain king-mode despite the party atmosphere.
"Nice to meet you," he mumbled through the cake. He cringed. Someone probably had told him Lieutenant Trevelyne would be here at some point in time, though he had forgotten. Brother to the infamous Cody Trevelyne, who would be on trial at the Public Trials in a few weeks, and one of the few rebel officers who had cooperated with the crown enough to grant parole, Lieutenant Trevelyne's good behavior hinged on his brother's fate. It was a complicated issue; one Wesley didn't savor in the least. Cody Trevelyne was a lieutenant colonel, even assuming command temporarily once when General Caine had been wounded. Unfortunately for him, he had lost at least half the army of St. George after making a foolish mistake. He had been captured after the battle and held prisoner by the crown, assumed dead by the rebels. As the Public Trials came up, it was announced he would also be tried and Wesley was fairly certain his brother Lieutenant Trevelyne had been called to testify as Georgia had.
Lieutenant Trevelyne smiled more of a grimace as he shook Wesley's hand.
"Oh, this is Lady Georgia Sorrel. She's in the Selection," he said, motioning to Georgia next to him.
Colin, who Wesley knew was a big fan of Georgia's patriotism and her acts for her country, started to speak. "She was a spy for the crown in Yukon…" but he trailed off, realizing the situation.
"Yes, I am well acquainted with Miss Sorrel's heroics." Lieutenant Trevelyne said, though his tone didn't suggest he thought they were heroic at all. He and Georgia exchanged a terse nod in greeting. A northern rebel officer and a northern turncoat spy…it was kind of ironic and highly uncomfortable as it all hit them. What had possessed him to bring her over here? He stuffed his mouth was another bit of cake so he wouldn't have to speak, wishing he was a little less intoxicated for this conversation.
"We even knew each other a bit, during the war," Georgia said, tossing her head back. She spoke to the others but kept her narrowed eyes on Lieutenant Trevelyne.
He did likewise. "I was on General Caine's staff when he was headquartered there. We were hosted by Miss Sorrel's family, and as I'm sure you all know, General Caine was quite…" he paused, "fond of her."
Wesley looked at Georgia, who took the comment in stride more so than he did. She regarded Lieutenant Trevelyne with a blank, haughty stare. Wesley knew Georgia was involved in rebel society in Yukon in her spying, but he supposed he didn't really know the extent of it. He thought of Dresden, involved in smuggling with the rebels, and now Georgia, who by the sound of it was personally involved with the rebels. For not the first time since she came to the palace, he wondered if he could trust her.
She flashed a smile that was more of a sneer and excused herself to go speak with the captain of the yacht to make sure everything was going as expected. The conversation moved to more Council-related things, though the tension remained. Lieutenant Trevelyne could barely hold eye contact and looked at everyone who passed them, his forehead shiny with sweat and probably the most uncomfortable person Wesley had ever seen. Wesley said a few dumb things that didn't contribute to the conversation and tried hard not to laugh at a situation that wasn't funny and realized he had drunk way too much to be in Council mode so he left in search of more cake.
Almost everyone has gone to the upper deck to dance as it got closer to midnight, the music changing over from classical and ballroom music. There were only a few groups of people chatting down on the first deck, and one small figure sitting by herself. Eleanor was perched on the stairs that went down to the pool deck, the one at the waterline they weren't using, her back toward the party. He watched her from behind, wiping at her face, and realized she was crying. There was just enough room for Wesley to sit down next to her, admittedly crushing the delicate fabric of her powder blue skirts spread around her. She looked up at him, embarrassed, blinking watery eyes. Her mascara dripping on her cheeks as she tried in vain to fix it, though it was just making it worse.
"Here," Wesley said, handing her his slightly cake-stained napkin, unfolding it and turning it inside out so it was a bit cleaner. She smiled weakly and took it anyway.
After giving her a few minutes to calm down and fix her makeup, he spoke again. "You okay, Eleanor?"
She nodded, still sniffling. "It didn't turn out like I thought," she confessed, her voice still thick. She pressed her lips together, tears flooding again in her eyes.
Sometimes, Eleanor Archibald could be the most annoying person in the world as she constantly looked for Wesley's attention. Sometimes everything about her seemed fake and forced, and she always seemed to be looking for everyone else's approval. But other times, like when they had talked on their date about losing their fathers, or when she came to his rescue during the Victory Ball, or how his heart had sped up a little to see her in her adorable Christmas outfit, or right about now—there was just something about her. Okay, maybe he like liked her just a tiny bit.
"Everyone keeps saying that, but I think this is the best party I've ever been to," he told her, reaching over to rub her shoulder in encouragement. Her skin was freezing, goosebumps pricked on her arms. She didn't even have long sleeves or a wrap like the others, toughing out the temperatures for the sake of fashion.
"I wanted to impress you." Her hands went to the new necklace Wesley had got her for Christmas, and for a brief second his brain made him think about Lissa's former necklace. "And you've spent all your time with Veyra and the other girls…" she trailed off, fanning her eyes as the tears threatened again. "I thought you were ignoring me."
Wesley sighed. He pulled an old trick out of the bag and draped his arm over Eleanor, also because he was really worried about her being cold. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. There's been so much going on tonight, I tried to spend time with everyone, but I guess I left you out." Other than one quick dance with her and greeting her when they arrived, that was about it. For some of the other girls, it didn't matter, but it did to Eleanor. He found that was another thing that made his heart glow, like seeing Elvira and Nick together. She cared about him.
"I'm sorry to overreact," she said, voice small. "I don't handle stress well. This party was so overwhelming." Her brown eyes met his, liquid amber in the darkness.
"It's also amazing what you pulled off," he pulled her a little closer into his side, rubbing his hand on her back a little. "I'm really proud of you."
Finally, at long last, she smiled. "Thank you, Wesley. That really means a lot."
"Anytime."
"I heard about Dresden, I'm sorry," she apologized, even amid her own emotions. "Are you going to eliminate her?"
"I don't know," He shrugged. "She's not the only one with a bad reputation, but she did try to hide it."
Eleanor nodded, looking down at her silver stilettos peeking out from under the hem of her gown. He could see the coppery glitter stuff she had all over her eyelids when she did that.
"My mom really tore into me over it," Wesley admitted. "We talked about our crazy mom's before, so you probably know the feeling."
Eleanor sighed and leaned back into his arm over her shoulders. "Acts like she knows entirely what's best for you and doesn't care at all about what you want?"
"I suppose she might be right," he allowed, "But still, makes me mad."
"Me too," Eleanor leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her hair tickling his arm. "My mom does that too. It makes me so mad."
They sat like that for a while, talking a little about nothing important. The music from the upper deck was loud, along with the party in full swing. Down here, they could hear the gentle lap of the waves on the yacht and see the golden glow of Angeles. Even the lights of the palace were visible from here. It wasn't even that cold. At some point, her hand ended up in his, though he wasn't sure when that happened.
It wasn't often when it was, but right now, he decided it was nice to be alive. To be here with Eleanor, to feel safe and care about and have someone to talk to who got it.
Eventually, the spell broke. "So, have you decided who you're kissing at midnight?" Eleanor asked.
Wesley felt his heart spike as she asked, her voice light and teasing. Like it wouldn't be a huge deal at all.
"Nope," he said, standing up and slipping off his jacket. He hadn't thought about that at all, which was a massive mistake. He had only ever kissed Vera and Veyra, and according to Eleanor, he'd been spending too much time with them already. He threw the jacket over her shoulders and held out his hand to pull her up. It was a problem for Future Wesley. "But I've got some time and I need to be drunker for that. Let's go dance."
The hour leading up to midnight passed in a wild blur once they joined the rest of the party. There was more drinking, and tons of dancing and things got pretty crazy as they counted down the last hour with sparklers and dancing. In the end, it didn't even matter who he kissed at midnight because he ended up puking over the railing into the bay as the fireworks went off overhead. Nick came to his rescue, holding him by the back of his shirt collar so Wesley wouldn't pitch in too and yelling at him.
"In my defense, I also think I'm seasick," he said when there was nothing left to puke, wiping his mouth. "Do you still have my sparkler?"
Nick scowled at him, handing the prince his now-burnt up sparkler.
"Thanks. You're basically my best friend," Wesley said, spitting one more time into the ocean.
"I'm your bodyguard."
Wesley had no memory of the rest of the night though he gave the party all he had. He was sure it was a good time because he woke up in the early hours of the New Year passed out on a chaise lounge to Vera shaking him.
He squinted his eyes at her, blinking against the light as the sun started to rise, turning the waters of the lavender, the sky pink and gold.
"Time to start those resolutions, Wesley," she said, smirking.
"Why am I wet?"
"You jumped in the pool."
He laughed and tried lifting his head, but it hurt too much so he just grabbed her arm and pulled her down on top of him. She resisted at first but gave him a trademark eye roll and gave in, tucking herself into his side. He wrapped an arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder, one hand resting on his chest.
"Is this more of an effort?" She asked, mumbling against his shirt, her body warm and comforting. It was really nice because he realized he was freezing, and his clothes were still wet.
"Definitely."
Time to be okay.
He was already off to a good start.