Page 9 of Sinister

Sin shifts uncomfortably by the door, glancing around the room as if looking for something to focus on other than me.

“So, um, if you don’t want to borrow any of Elias’s mom’s clothes, we could just toss our stuff in the dryer,” he suggests. “And while they’re drying, we can change into the bathrobes?”

“Yeah, that works,” I say, suppressing a smile at the lost-puppy look on his face. “Thanks.”

With that, I turn my back to him and start peeling off my wet shirt. He starts taking off his shirt and trousers as well, and for a while, there’s just the squelching noise of our clothes coming off—in the most unerotic sense.

If you had told me that this is what I’d be doing on my eighteenth birthday, getting dunked in the swimming pool and then awkwardly shedding my wet clothes in a room with a guy I just met, I would have laughed at you.

Things like these happen to heroines in novels and movies, I would have told you. I’m just an angsty, rich teenage girl who wants to be seen.

Funnily enough, at one point, I do feel Sin’s eyes on me, and even though I know he’s trying not to look, it’s impossible not to be hyper-aware of his presence.

It’s not like he’s that bad to look at. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of his corded back muscles and athlete’s arms.

Phew, this guy works out, my inner critic mumbles, and I am quick to shush her. As I fumble with the blouse, I catch a glimpse of him looking at me in the mirror.

Just as I see him, his gaze quickly darts away.

“Ahem, Sin?” I say sharply. “Do you mind?”

He flushes a bright shade of red. “I swear I wasn’t looking! I mean, not on purpose.” He’s already shrugged off his attire and is wearing a bathrobe.

“Just turn around, okay?” I say, smiling a little at the sight of his flustered face.

“Right, right. Sorry.” He quickly turns his back to me, staring intently at the wall.

Once I’m out of my blouse and skirt, I feel cold again, and goose bumps erupt all over my skin. Standing there in just my bra and panties, I hastily wrap myself in the soft, warm robe, tying the belt tightly around my waist.

Outside, the party sounds somewhat muted now. People may be starting to leave in earnest.

“Okay, you can turn around now,” I say at last, gathering my wet clothes into a bundle.

Sin turns back, carefully avoiding my eyes.

“Do you want me to take those to the dryer?” he offers, nodding toward the soggy pile in my arms.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I reply, handing them over. As he takes the clothes from my hands, his eyes meet mine for a moment.

There’s a softness there, a genuine concern that makes my heart ache in grief. Am I going to have to rely on the kindness of strangers all the time? And more importantly, would that be so bad?

“No problem,” Sin stammers. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just . . . make yourself comfortable, I guess.”

I nod, watching as he leaves the room, and the door clicks shut behind him.

Alone again, I let out a trembling breath. Despite the awkwardness, there’s something comforting about Sin’s presence, something that makes this chaotic night feel a little less overwhelming.

Who did that? I can’t help wondering. The most obvious suspects were Daphne and her followers, but I am somehow not convinced.

Sure, the three of them are notorious bullies who have ruined the lives of many an unsuspecting juvenile pariah, and pushing me into a pool is just the kind of petty trick they would play.

But . . . but what? My instincts are telling me something, though I’m not sure what that is.

All I know is that the voice I heard immediately before being pushed into the pool couldn’t have come from any of the trio. It sounded far too calculating.

Does that mean I have another enemy? Someone else who wishes me harm? It’s a daunting question, but one I have to face if I deny that it was Daphne or Lenora or François who had sent me into the pool’s icy depths.

“Great, just great,” I mutter. “Could this night get any weirder?”