“Butt cheek of dawn?” he asks, looking slightly perplexed. “That’s not a phrase, Chuck.”
“Sure it is. Why is butt crack of dawn a phrase, but not butt cheek? What’s the difference?”
“It’s crack of dawn, Chuck-let,” he argues, but I shake my head and hold up a finger.
“I’ve heard butt crack of dawn used plenty of times.”
“Yeah, by you.” Spencer shakes his head at me, and then sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. My eyes close of their own accord, and my hands lift to fist in the front of his yukata. That spark between us is heating up again, and even with my suspicions, I feel powerless to stop it.
“I was out smoking early because I couldn’t sleep, Chuck. I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were in there with Church, and I …” He exhales hard, and his warm breath feathers against my lips. My eyes crack open, and I find myself staring up at him, at those long, dark lashes lying against his cheeks. “I was jealous,” he admits. Spencer opens his eyes and crooks a wily half-smile. “Doesn’t look too good on me, does it? All this jealousy?”
“I’d be worried about you if you weren’t jealous,” I whisper back, wanting to kiss him so bad my lips hurt. “I mean, if you were dating another girl … let alone multiple girls—identical twins, no less—I’d lose my shit. I couldn’t do it; it’d break me.”
“Break you?” he says, and then chuckles, his cedar and hyssop smell taking over me. “It’d take a lot more than that to break you, Chuck-let.”
I smack him in the chest with the back of one hand, and then grab the edge of his yukata.
“I don’t care that you’re jealous; I get it. I don’t want to share you with anybody else.” The words come out in a low whisper, so low that I’m afraid Spencer hasn’t heard me, and I’ll have to repeat myself. He leans down suddenly and takes my lips in that frustratingly perfect way of his, this sweetly domineering escapade that leaves me breathless and enthralled all at once.
“You don’t have to share me,” he promises, sucking on my lower lip, taking it prisoner before mercifully releasing it. “I’m just having trouble sharing you. That’s what kept me up all night, got me up so early. I was just trying to smoke a few cigarettes and have a think in the damn woods.” He leans back a bit and picks at the front of his yukata with his fingers. “That isn’t even my hoodie; it’s Micah’s. I borrowed it last night when Ranger and I went to smoke. It gets cold here in …” Spencer looks around for a minute and frowns. “You know, wherever this is, Butt Cheek, Middle of Nowhere, yeah?”
A smile twitches on my lips, and then I groan and sag back against the wall.
“That was Micah’s hoodie?” I ask, pointing over my shoulder to indicate the clothing line where the soggy hoodie in question now hangs. Spencer nods briefly before pausing and gives me a look.
“You don’t think …” he starts as I scrub my hands down my face.
“I don’t want to think he’s a killer any more than I do you,” I sigh, dropping my hands to my sides. Spencer reaches into his pocket and digs around for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, drawing first one out and then the other. He pauses again, frowns, and then flips the lighter over, so we can see what’s on the other side.
What he shows me … gives me serious fucking chills.
There are spatters of red wax all over the damn thing.
“Let me guess,” I start, before Spencer can say anything else. “This is Micah’s lighter, too?”
Spencer might not be one of the killers … but Micah could be.“It's just a lighter,” Micah starts, blinking big green eyes at me as I drop the offending item into his palm. He studies it for a moment, and then his face pales. Likely, he’s doing the same thing I am, and recalling the red candles and the headless bird, the spatters of red wax left on the coffee table in the girls’ dorm. “Ah, covered in red wax. But I can explain that.”
“Dude, you sound guilty as fuck,” Tobias murmurs, giving his brother a sidelong glance. “Even I don't know why you have a lighter covered in red wax in your hoodie pocket.”
“I brought it to smoke weed with Spencer,” Micah argues, lifting an arm and gesturing at his friend. He reaches up to ruffle his red-orange hair as Church and Ranger watch him, standing to the right of the door.
Somehow, I feel like I'm surrounded by sharks in this room.
Just … are they going to eat me or eat the fuckers who are trying to kill me?
“Listen up, Jaws,” I start, only vaguely realizing that perhaps my Jaws movie reference only makes sense to me. “You better explain yourself and quick. All of you.” My eyes flick over to Church as he exhales and closes his own eyes for a moment. I still have yet to see hide nor hair of Mr. Dave.
