I laughed. “You did a shit job of that.”

First she’d caught my attention; then she’d caught the attention of Lottie’s friends.

Her eyes flashed. “I was in seven out of eight of your classes at Crowne Point High. I’m willing to bet you don’t remember me in any of them.”

My brow raised, interested. “You went to CPH?”

“I’ve lived here since I was fourteen. I’ve served you at all your breakfasts and dinners, placed your Christmas presents under the tree, shined the frame on Mr. Charles Crowne’s portrait and waxed the floors after you scuffed them. You knocked my books out of my hand and kicked my soap bucket over more times than I can count.”

I dragged my hands through my blond hair.

She chewed her lip. “This has been my home for the almost a decade.”

“It’s my home—”

“Not really,” she shouted. Fucking yelled. It was enough to shut me up. Snitch didn’t yell. “You might live above us, but you live in a house, not a home. You have no love or laughter. You interact with cruelty. We’re like ghosts to you. We live here, it’s our home, but if you notice us, you exorcise us.”

I sat up, twisting my legs off the bed, elbows on my knees, until I was leaning off, closer to Snitch. Her honesty was so fucking addicting. I licked my lips, leaning forward.

“I learned to drive here,” she continued. “I broke my heart here…”

Who the fuck broke her heart?

My hands were in fists before I realized.

“I lived in a house until Crowne Hall, and now I have a home.”

Disbelief froze my tongue, washing over my face. “You actually like it here?”

I just assumed everyone hated it. I know my siblings did. I know my mother did. My grandfather only showed up on holidays he hated it so much. How could servants like it here? The thought didn’t even compute.

“The only thing wrong with Crowne Hall are the Crownes. We are like ghosts to you, but you? You are monsters to us. We tiptoe around you and pray we never wake you.”

I leaned closer, until I could smell her. “No one ever talks like this to me.”

I’d spent a good thirty minutes talking with Lottie today.

She wasn’t mad at me anymore. She wasn’t…anything with me. But worse, I kept waiting for that pop that happened every time I was with Snitch, and it never came. We talked about the weather, about the music, respectable things that people like us should talk about.

Lust.

That’s all it was.

I’d loved Lottie for years.

She peered at me. “Do you have any real friends, Grayson?”

No.

I laughed. “You have to be insane to keep talking to me like this.”