I frown up at him, my mind blank. None of this makes any sense.
He keeps staring at me as he asks, voice low, “Do you know anything about that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth on Wednesday?” My confusion morphs into anger and maybe, underneath it, panic. “You didn’t warn me and you let me stay there alone and?—”
“You left your apartment last night at eight, came back at eight fifteen with a Diet Dr Pepper and a package of M&Ms. You had your phone in your hand and you were smiling and you sure as fuck weren’t texting me.”
My throat feels tight, like I can’t breathe, let alone get any words out. “You… How do you know that?” I was texting Heather, but I don’t bother telling him so when he’s clearly not telling mea lot.My chest heaves between us and I stare at the hollow of his throat instead of into his eyes.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to burst into your perfect little bubble, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have it under control.”
“Havewhatunder control, Storm?” I stare up at him now, annoyance making my face feel hot. “Stop speaking in riddles and?—”
“Riddles,” he interrupts me, his tone icy. “What does that word mean to you?” The look he gives me is one of suspicion, the way his lips push together and his eyes narrow.
I shake my head. “What? What are you talking about?”
He drops the coffin nail. It clangs against the hardwoods beneath us and he cups his hand around my face, his thumb running across my bottom lip. It’s a strangely soft gesture but it feels dangerous somehow. “Don’t fuck with me, Sloane.” He tilts his head, so his lips are close to mine, his thumb between us. “You don’t need to know anything but that. You don’t need to be scared so long as youdon’t fuck with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anger and fear both war within me.
He traces my top lip and I part them both, a little gasp leaving my mouth without my permission. He’s staring there, where he’s touching me, when he speaks again. “For your sake, I hope not.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
SLOANE
“What the fuck is going on?” I don’t bother being polite or asking how she’s doing. I want to know why my best friend left her own home without a word to me about it, and I want to know what the fuck is going on with Storm.
Remi says, “Turn the music down,” in a sharp tone to who I assume is Cortland, and the Deftones playing in the background grows so low, I can’t hear it anymore. “Sloane. What are you talking about? What’s going on?”
I glance out my windshield in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I left both drinks with Storm and got out of his house as fast as I could. He tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen. I don’t know who hurt him or why Remi and Cortland and Lyle left, but I know it must be connected, right?
“Where are you? Why did you leave? I came over earlier and Storm…” I trail off, then lean my head back against my driver’s seat. My doors are locked, windows rolled up, and my car is still on. My phone is connected to my speakers so I’m free to clench my fists tight into balls, my nails pushing into my palms.
“Storm?” Remi says his name sharply.
In the background, I hear Lyle cooing, and it’s the only thing that brings a smile to my lips.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she keeps going, but there’s apprehension in her words. “Lyle had a rough night last night and Cortland didn’t tell me he wanted to leave until this morning and?—”
“Baby,” Cortland says, no doubt from the driver’s side. “I’m sorry, but I’m spontaneous, you know.” But there’s a smile in his words. As long as she’s beside him, he doesn’t care about anything.
“Wait,” Remi says, ignoring Cortland. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about? Is that why you came over? I would have stayed if I’d known.”
“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But…”
There’s silence as I trail off, and Remi is the one to break it.
“It’s about Storm, isn’t it?” Her voice is deadpan.
“Oh, fuck,” Cortland swears in the background.
I clench my teeth.Oh, fuckis right.
“I knew it,” Remi says, and this time she has annoyance in her tone. “Iknewhe was starting to obsess over you. Every time you come over, he’s staring right at you with his creepy fucking eyes. He likes you, doesn’t he? Don’t fuck him, whatever you do, Sloane, don’t?—”
