"She's all tucked in," I tell him, stumbling down the stairs of my residence hall and onto the sidewalk. "Shit!"
"Careful, there," Miles says, scooping me up and tossing me over his shoulder.
I laugh, but only for a minute before I'm dizzy and light-headed. "Okay, I need you to put me down now," I tell him. "I can't be upside-down much longer. You'll probably drop me, anyway."
For whatever reason, this offends him. "Why the fuck do you think I'd drop you?" he asks. "Do I look that fucking weak to you? Like I can't carry some one-hundred-pound girl?"
I'm taken aback by his harsh tone. "Well, I weigh more than that."
"That's not the fucking point!"
"I'm going to vomit, okay? I'm going to puke on you. Please, just put me down."
Miles doesn't set me down—he drops me. I stumble, falling onto my hands and knees before pushing myself up and regaining my footing, and he laughs.
"I'm glad you think that's funny."
"It is funny. You know, men should laugh at women more. They laugh at us all the time, and they just get away with it."
I don't know what switch just flipped, but I know I'm out.
"You know what, Miles? I think—" But before I can finish the sentence and tell him I just want to go back to my room, I spot Elias's Porsche Cayman sitting in the driveway of a red brick townhome across the street.
So, this is where he lives…just two blocks away from my residence hall.Perfect.
"What?" Miles asks. His eyes follow my own, landing on the vehicle and then, likely, the custom plate on the back: THORPE7. "Is that your brother's car? I thought he couldn't have a license."
So, he knows Elias well enough to know that. Interesting. "He got it back."
"Is that where he lives?"
"Apparently."
"Doesn't look like anyone is home."
"No, probably not." I shrug, not grasping why it matters. Surely, he doesn't want to see Elias. "I'm going—"
But once again, I don't get the chance to finish my sentence. Miles struts across the street toward the front door. "Hey, wait!" I call after him. "What are you doing?"
I have to run to catch up with him, and once I do, he's turning the knob and ramming the door with his shoulder.
"Stop!"
He ignores me, trying a few more times, and when it doesn't give, he moves around the back of the house and jumps the chain-link fence surrounding the small backyard.
"Don't!" I shout, nervously scanning the perimeter before climbing over after him. "We have to get out of here. This is stupid."
But when he tries the sliding glass door, it opens. He turns to me and smirks before stepping inside.
I should run, but I saw the doorbell camera, and I know whatever he is about to do is going to be my fault. I have to get him out of here.
A loud crash rings out from inside the house before I make it to the back door…and then another. I step inside just in time to watch him pull the mounted television from the wall, letting it shatter on the floor.
"Stop! They have cameras outside. They're going to know it was you!"
"I don't give a fuck," he says. "He tookeverythingfrom me."
"What are you talking about?!" I shout.
