Page 19 of Secret Obsession
That has my eyes opening. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.
We’ve done this before.
He’s chuckling in my ear. How can he laugh after he killed someone? How can he—how can he benormal?
“Okay,” he agrees. “Are you at Greyson and Violet’s house?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. Seems like he’s unlocked my voice, after all.
“Sleeping on the couch?”
“Maybe.”
“Drinking whiskey…”
I frown down at the bottle. My head whips to the side, to the window at the front of the house. Where I can just barely make out the headlights in the driveway. Headlights that don’t belong to Violet’s car or Greyson’s truck, or my car parked behind my best friend’s.
“Why are you outside?” I blurt out.
“How about you come find out?”
I don’t want to do that.
Or… maybe I do. Because I’m already mostly dressed, and all it takes is me slipping on my coat and shoes. Curiosity has me drifting to the front door. I unlock it and step outside, my phone still connected to his. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I shiver. I don’t move off the porch, and my eyes burn from staring down his car.
“Come on,” he goads. “Unless you’re scared?”
I square my shoulders. I don’t like challenges. It’s the competitive part of me that just won’t let it rest. Which is why I don’t think as I say, “I’m not.”
“Then get in the damn car.”
His words unfreeze my limbs. I trot down the porch steps and down the walkway. I yank open the passenger door and slip in without peeking at him. Until I’m closed in, and he locks it. Then I turn my head and take him in.
He’s wearing a black beanie, his dark-blond hair peeking out and curling around the edges of it. His quarter-zip sweater is done up to his chin, and his brown leather jacket over it is open. Jeans. Boots. A different outfit from this morning.
How many times have I climbed into this car before?
Always in the backseat, because we’ve never been alone. Especially not like this.
“How drunk are you?”
I lift one shoulder. “Probably not enough for whatever you plan on doing.”
“I don’t plan ondoinganything.” He pulls away from the curb.
I twist to face him. “Then why am I in your car? In the middle of the night?”
He’s silent. His fingers flex on the wheel, but he doesn’t seem particularly inspired to answer me. Which is… fine, I guess. Some things, I’m better off not knowing. We pass campus, pass the road to the point, pass the hockey arena. Until he’s turning onto my street and slowing in front of my house.
“Go inside,” he says.
I stare up at the dark house, and that familiar fear bites at my skin.
“I don’t want to.”
“Too fucking bad.” He shuts off his car and climbs out. He leaves me there, striding ahead of me and stopping in front of the main door. There’s that one that lets us into the little entryway, then the stairs up to my apartment, and then another door.
It only takes him a moment to get it open, and I suck my lower lip between my teeth.
