Logic says return it. If it’s back in his father’s office, Kane can’t hold it against me anymore.
My hair is finally knot-free. I place the brush on the bedside table, then sit on the edge of the bed and grab the dagger from the drawer. The sheath’s surface is scuffed and faded, darker where the knife hilt has rubbed against it. I’m not an expert by any means, but I recognize expensive leather when I see it—and this feels luxurious. It also has that dry, smoky tang to the leather, the kind that clings to your hands after touching it.
I pull it out of its sheath to inspect the blade, my gaze drifting to the door when I hear voices outside, but they walk past. With a bit of luck, they’ll bang in my brother’s room and leave a big cum stain. That would serve him right.
The blade gleams as I flip it over in my hand, running my thumb over a cursive inscription. It looks like Latin, but the text is too small to read. Either way, it’s not a language I understand.
Hang on. I squint. The handle is carved with deep grooves and more inscriptions circle the base.
The phone pings, and I grab it.
Rain:
Guuuuurrrl. Huuurrryy!
My lips twitch into a smile, but it quickly fades when I click out of the chat. How long has it been since Kane messaged me? And why do I start feeling strange the longer I go without hearing from him?
I open the chat and scroll through our previous messages.
Kane:
Good morning, little thief. I dreamed of eating your sweet pussy again. Now I have a raging erection. Want me to come over?
Kane:
Fine. No sex. Let’s watch a movie or something. What are your favorite snacks?
Kane:
MGK Waste Love, track 12 (2:09s–2:14s)
I shared that song on my socials the other day and he sent me a song lyric. If I ever doubted whether he pays attention, that last message proved it.
The strange feeling in my chest comes back, that odd warmth I feel when he messages. I rub the spot, staring at his words before setting my phone down to get dressed. He’s not worth my energy, even though I’ve never opened my Spotify so quickly in my life just to check a lyric. It’s not cute, is it? Or romantic?
Ugh. Stop. He hasn’t messaged me since then. So why am I thinking about him? This is for the best.
Five minutes later, I’m shimmying into my denim shorts when Rain starts banging on the bedroom door.
“Come on, guuuurl. Stop masturbating. We’re going out.”
“Chill, will ya?” I say as I pull on a tank top and tie my hair up on my way to the door.
The moment it opens, she thrusts a shot into my hand and tells me to drink it. “Everyone’s heading down to the cliffs to party.”
It’s a popular party spot for young people from the Falls. Misty and secluded, it’s the perfect place to get drunk and hookup with strangers. But I don’t plan on becoming tomorrow’s latest gossip.
“There’s our girl,” Rain shouts as Summer exits her room. She wobbles over to her in her tall heels and leather dress. “Now it’s a party.”
Waves crash against the cliffs below. I take another sip of my lukewarm beer to chase away the chill in the air. Maybe I won’t feel it if I get sufficiently drunk. I left my jacket at home and I regret it now that the sun has set and the temperature has dropped. The sea breeze brings a sharp chill to the air.
Thankfully, a bonfire sends sparks into the night sky. I watch the crackling flames, then look up at the stars above. Around us, trucks are parked in a semi-circle with people drinking and smoking weed on the flatbeds. One couple is having sex, semi-hidden by a blanket, while others are dancing or talking.
Chris cups his mouth and shouts my name. I turn my head over my shoulder. He’s lounging with my friends on foldable camping chairs where they sit with beers in hand while passing a joint around. Summer and Rain are on the flatbed, the latter half asleep, her head resting on Summer’s shoulder.
I walk away from the heat. Jackson pulls me onto his lap, and my brother scowls and tells me to get off. I don’t like being told what to do so I stay put just to piss him off.
It works.
