He scoffs quietly when I say nothing, his eyes flooding with disgust, disappointment, and so much resentment.
Truthfully, I can relate, because it's how I feel about myself right now, too.
“I can see you’ve suffered, Reverie,” he says, his tone hushed. “Just not enough.”
He turns and gives me his back, dismissing me. Tears rise to the surface of my eyes, but I don’t waste a single second grabbing my jacket from the floor and charging for the exit, shrugging it back on and re-zipping it on the way.
The girls are no longer in the windows when I emerge into the living room, which is a welcome relief.
Except I can only bask in it for a few seconds. The moment I unlock and whip open the door, I come face to face with all of them huddled right outside it.
I jump back with a sharp gasp, my hand flying to my chest again and my lungs exponentially tighter than usual.
At this rate, my heart is going to either explode or completely give out from all the stress.
Their faces are blank, though mirth twinkles in a few of their gazes.
Beyond them, people are still partying in the hot tub, even louder and drunker than before. They don’t pay us any attention, too lost in their own worlds. I could call out to one of them for help, but there isn’t a single person who would care enough to save me. Not when they’d have to face Dread’s wrath.
“You’ve made your point,” I snap. “Leave me alone.”
Stacy steps forward, her expression neutral, though her eyes are lit up with excitement. She silently holds out her hand for me to grab.
I recoil from her, my face twisting with derision. For all I know, that hand could’ve touched Dread’s dick before I arrived here, and that’s enough of a reason to keep that thing firmly away from me.
“You can come with me, or you can let him bring you,” she responds, her naturally high-pitched voice tinkling with challenge.
There’s that sinking feeling again. Unease slithers beneath my skin, and while I’m tempted to punch her and make a run for it, there’s no way I’ll make it through eleven other girls.
Exhaling an annoyed breath, I begrudgingly save her from needing a rhinoplasty and motion for her to lead the way.
I’m still not touching her fucking hand.
She smiles and deliberately grabs my palm, anyway.
Oh,fuckno.
I attempt to dislodge her fingers, but she holds tight, nearly cracking my fucking bones.
“Please tell me you washed your hands after fucking Dread,” I say, my voice shaking from the anxiety of having his dick juices all over me.
I’m on the verge of swinging when she pins me with an ‘are you stupid?’ look.
“He only fucks blondes. Everyone knows that.”
I blink.Idefinitely didn’t know that. Apparently, Victoria didn't, either, since she's not blonde and planned to give Dread her number tonight. Or maybe she did and was just hopeful she'd be the exception.
Regardless, I’ve made it a point to hear and see as little as humanely possible about Dread’s dating and sex life. The only thing I’ve gleaned over the years is that he’s not an easy catch, but nothing about the requirementstocatch him.
My poor eyeballs can confirm he's made out with plenty of girls, but I've heard many of them complaining about it leading nowhere. Seems Stacy is no different.
Regardless, I feel slightly better about her hand touching mine, though I’d much prefer she and the rest of these girls let me the fuck go.
Stacy turns back around and tugs me after her while muttering beneath her breath, “Should’ve worn that fucking itchy blonde wig.”
The group crowds around me as we walk, ensuring there’s nowhere for me to run. Adrenaline continues to pump through my veins steadily, and my eyes bounce around every which way, just waiting for a moment to offer me a clean escape.
A white picket fence encircles the entire backyard, an exit gate in the far back corner. When we reach it, she unlatches the lock and drags me outside of it.
