Instead, I’m stuck here with a mouth full of maybe-sock.
When the car finally stops, Alex and Brooks haul me out, guiding me through what I think is a parking lot. I’m half-stumbling, half being dragged across uneven pavement, tripping over cracks I can’t see.
My shoulder bumps a doorframe, then a wall, then something soft I don’t want to identify.
By the time they steer me forward again, I’m bracing for another collision, but nothing comes.
I’m almost thankful when they sit me on a hard chair because at least I know I can’t fall into someone.
I’m seconds from clawing the blindfold off when something cold snaps around my wrists.
Click.
Handcuffs.
“Mmmph!” I try to shout, thrashing against the restraints, the sock muffling everything.
“Oh—my bad,” Alex snickers, and someone finally rips the sock from my mouth.
I cough, then growl, “Seriously? This isn’t even remotely funny. What the hell are you doing?”
The only response I get is howls of laughter from my team.
I’m so fucking pissed that I try to wrench myself out of the chair, but I can’t. They’re holding me down.
When the blindfold is taken off, I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim, red-soaked lighting.
I freeze, knowing exactly where we are.
Behind Closed Doors.
The goddamn burlesque club.
Fuck's sake. All this to take me to a burlesque club for my birthday. Idiots. I'm surrounded by fucking idiots.
A sudden burst of white light blinds me for a second. I flinch…then realize it’s not a stage light.
It’s one of my father’s cameras, and Jerry is standing right beside it.
Fantastic.
Perfect.
This is exactly what I wanted: my birthday “surprise” filmed for the whole world because my dad apparently thought this would make great content.
My jaw clenches.
Of course he was in on this.
I want fucking out of this.
I breathe out, taking in the room when my eyes have adjusted to the light. NotBehind Closed Doors,but a room at a rec center with balloons all around me. Every single freshman is here. Every single one of them except Erik.
They’re all grinning like idiots, waiting for a reaction from me.
What are they expecting? A standing ovation from me when I’ve been cuffed to a chair.
Once again, idiots.
