When I pull back, I’m suddenly shy. “Do you want… me to do the same to you?” I ask.
His thumb comes up to trace the outline of my bottom lip, the one he bit. “Fuck. Come to my place with me? Right now?”
The words are harsh, a demand more than a question, and I flinch. He sees it immediately. He shakes his head, a flicker of self-loathing crossing his face.
“Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen,” he says quickly, his voice softer. “I mean… we don’t have to do anything serious. I just want… us to have more time. More space than this fucking closet.”
I understand. God, do I want to. The thought of being alone with him, of having hours instead of stolen minutes, makes my stomach swoop.
But a deep-seated kernel of fear is still there, a lifetime of caution warring with this explosive new desire. And… there’s the party. The cleanup.
“Forget it,” Raiden says sharply, misinterpreting my hesitation as rejection.
“No!” I say, relieved he didn’t just shove me away and leave. I press my body fully against his, needing to feel the solid reassurance of him. “You’ll come to the final prep evening. Tonight. Come. And then… we’ll go to your place. Or mine.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “What else do you need to finish?” he asks, his voice grudging, but he’s listening.
“Move some of the heavier furniture back out, now that the lights are all set. And after the fire this morning, we need to scrub the soot off the floors and—”
“The fire?”
His voice cuts through my explanation like a whip crack. His hand clamps down on my elbow, his grip painfully tight. “What fire?”
I tell him everything, about the prank theory, the melted table, the cut trip wire. As I speak, I feel the atmosphere in the tiny room shift, grow colder, more dangerous.
He listens without a word, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter until I’m sure he’s going to crack a tooth. When I’m finished, the silence is terrifying.
“You’re not going,” he says finally, his voice flat and absolute.
“What?”
“The Christmas party. You are not going.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending. I even laugh a little. “Um, no. You’re joking? You’re really exaggerating. It was a stupid prank, Raiden. Even the dean said so.”
“I don’t give a shit what the dean said.” His expression hardens into something I’ve never seen before—not mockery, not desire, but cold, hard command. “The coolant line, now afire? No. It ends. I’m not letting you go to that stupid party. The thing isn’t worth it. Something is wrong, and you might be in danger.”
“Stupid… party?” The words feel like a slap. All the air leaves my lungs. I push against his chest, creating a few inches of space between us.
“It’s not a stupid party to me,” I say, my voice dangerously steady. “And I’m going. I’m going to celebrate Christmas in the best way I can.”
“With a school party?” he scoffs, his eyes narrowing. He’s trying to protect me, I know, but his words are careless, and they cut deep. “Almost no one will come, Artie. Half the school has gone home for the holidays, and the rest will find something better to do.”
“Well, if no one’s coming, then there’s nothing for you to worry about, is there?” I retort, a bitter sting behind my eyes.
He actually recoils, seeing the glint of tears I can’t hide.
“Fuck, Artie. You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his tone softening with frustration. “It’s a forced school activity. That’s how other people see it, even if you manage to make it the coolest party ever.”
“I don’t care how other people see it,” I hiss, my teeth clenched. “This is the only party I can have, and I’m going to have a good time with my friends.”
Anger flashes in his eyes, his own hurt lashing out now. “Of course. Your friends andChase. And I’m not on that list.”
“I just invited you tonight!” I cry, incredulous.
“And I told you not to risk your fucking neck for a holiday party! Someone started a fire, damn it. Why can’t you see that something strange is going on?”
I can’t control it anymore. The words, the secrets I’ve held tight for a decade, just burst out of me.
