“I can’t believe he said that shit,” Allie says, still reeling.
I wish I was surprised, but I know Chase. He’s always been an ass. Jaw tight, I open the door of my truck and climb in, digging through the glove box until my fingers close around the cool metal of the screwdriver.Perfect. Hopping back down, I stalk toward the cherry-red truck I know belongs to Chase.
“What are you doing?” Allie hisses, following at my heels.
“I’m showing some restraint,” I reply, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips. “Payback’s a bitch.”
I’d like nothing more than to jam this screwdriver into all four tires of his truck, but I’d rather not have to deal with criminal charges tonight. Instead, I crouch down, press the tip to the valve stem and listen in satisfaction as air hisses out of the tire, waiting until it is good and deflated before moving on to the next while Allie shifts nervously, glancing around to make sure nobody is watching.
"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?" she whispers, wide-eyed.
I glance up, my smirk widening to a full smile. "Sometimes I don't like waiting for karma to catch up to the assholes."
"You're an absolute menace, Sawyer Addams," she says with a surprised laugh.
"You love me for it," I say, winking before finishing off the last tire.
Once my job is done, I grab Allie’s wrist and take off across the gravel parking lot, the two of us sprinting toward my truck. She giggles breathlessly behind me, her laughter bubbling over as she jumps into the passenger seat.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she says, still catching her breath.
I snort in disgust. “I’d rather have punched him like Tripp did.”
Allie sighs, dropping her head to the headrest. "I wish I could do somethingto get back at that asshole."
I glance over at the way she gnaws on her lip, hands balled up in fists in her lap.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say with a smirk, feeling a little wild and a whole lot reckless.
“Lord, have mercy,” Allie mutters under her breath. “Do I even want to ask?”
I meet her eyes, my grin carefree and nearly feral. “You ready to have a little fun?”
After a quick pit stop at Allie’s, we pull up to Chase’s small house, several rolls of toilet paper in hand. I can’t think of anything more fitting for that piece of shit than covering his house in the fluffy white justice.
We giggle like a couple of delinquent teenagers as we creep across his lawn, dry leaves crunching under our feet.
“Think he’s figured out his tires are flat yet?” Allie whispers, tossing a roll from one hand to the other like a pitcher warming up.
I glance at my watch and shake my head. “I doubt they’ve left the bar yet.”
The house is dark, and we both get to work launching rolls over tree branches, draping long ribbons across the roof, decorating the property in a chaotic mess of white.
Allie laughs as she spells out"fuck you"in the grass, and I thank the man upstairs for the lack of wind tonight.
I shake my head, grinning as I toss another roll into the highest tree, watching it spiral before it catches on a branch.
“If you’re not done with that assholenow, then I’m admitting you to the psych ward,” I whisper-yell, tossing another roll over the house.
“This is better than therapy,” Allie says, punctuating it with a maniacal laugh that makes me snort.
I take a step back to survey our masterpiece. It’s a work of art—truly, a thing of beauty. Chase is going to lose his damn mind when he sees this.
Allie is finishing up her last roll of toilet paper when the unmistakable glare of headlights washes over the lawn. My stomach drops.
A flicker of blue and red flashes through the night with the single, sharp wail of a siren. The sheriff’s car rolls to a stop in front of Chase's house.
Shit.
