With a quick glance down at my phone, I realize that I’ve somehow missed a few texts from Parrish.
Don’t mess around with Chasm. You and Kimber are fucking thirsty. Back off.
My teeth clench again, and I almost briefly forget about the person moving in the bushes. A twig snaps, and my heart leaps into my throat, convincing me to start moving again. The wind teases my skirt up around my thighs, causing the plaid fabric to billow. That’s when my neck begins to throb, and I know I need to get the hell out of there.
Sprinting down the hill, I end up falling on my ass and sliding part of the way down, hitting the flat ground near the lake and collapsing to my knees. I’m panting as I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see anyone lurking in the evening shadows.
“So fucking creepy,” I murmur, standing up and brushing the dirt off my knees. I feel silly for overreacting, but I would’ve felt even worse if I’d underreacted and something happened. Who would be stalking you, Dakota? Who? As a teenage girl, I’m more than well-aware of how predatory men can be, but this feels like something different. It rings a different set of alarm bells, and I don’t recognize the sound.
“Are you ready to head out?” Lumen asks as I look up and find her waiting in a towel beside a cluster of blackberry bushes.
“I’m ready,” I agree, but I can’t resist just one, last look over my shoulder as I walk away.
Still, there’s nothing. Somehow, I feel like there is most definitely something.
Later that night, when I part Danyella’s curtains and peer out, I swear I see a shadow watching us from the edge of the property. But when I run down the hall and flick on the outside light, there’s nothing there.
I must be losing my goddamn mind.
Or … somebody else already has.
When I get home on Saturday, I head straight for Parrish’s room and throw open the door which, surprisingly, is unlocked. He lifts his head up from his sketchbook to stare at me through a slitted gaze.
“What the fuck do you want?” he drawls, as if he didn’t go out of his way to embarrass me in front of the entire school. I’m starting to see that Kimber’s assessment of the situation was accurate: if I hadn’t somehow endeared myself to Lumen, I might very well be in trouble here.
“You were creeping around in the bushes outside of Chasm’s place last night,” I snap, shoving the door closed behind me and putting my back against it. Parrish continues to do his prince of the angry sloth routine where he moves like he’s wading through molasses, pushing himself into a sitting position and frowning at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “And Danyella’s, too.”
“Why the fuck,” he hisses, shoving some of that pretty tousled hair back from his face, “would I bother doing that? If I wanted to see you naked, all I’d have to do is wait for you to change with your door cracked which, I might add, you do on the regular. Trust me: I’ve seen enough, and I’m not impressed.”
Anger ripples through me, a boulder crashing into the serene surface of a lake. I had a good time last night, great actually. For the first time in weeks, I’m starting to see through the murky shadows of my situation. I don’t have to like Tess; I don’t even have to like Washington. But I can have friends, I can enjoy the experience of having younger siblings. I won’t let Parrish ruin that for me.
“Nice. Keep body-shaming me, asshole. It helps emphasize your natural level of maturity.”
Parrish swings his long legs over the side of the bed and stands up, moving over to where I’m standing. My body betrays me, my breath stilling as that angry heat mixes with my natural attraction toward him.
“Ask yourself this: would I waste my Friday night hiding in the bushes on the off-chance that I might see you having a pillow fight with Lumen of all people? Danyella, the theater geek? Or is it you that I’m supposed to be interested in?”
I force myself to exhale as Parrish reaches around me, going for the handle of his bedroom door. I clamp my hand over his to stop him from turning it, and my stomach flip-flops dangerously.
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” I demand. “Someone was out there; someone was watching us.”
“How the fuck should I know? There are perverts everywhere,” he says, trying to turn the doorknob again. I tighten my grip on his hand, and he turns those toasted almond eyes of his over to me. Our faces are stupid close, like way closer than any two normal people would ever stand. “You seem to think you have a stalker who kidnaps you in the middle of the night and returns you unharmed to your bed. Maybe it was him? Like I said, if you’re that worried, go tell Tess all about it and see how much harder your life gets.”
Parrish yanks his hand back and turns away, returning to his bed and his abandoned sketchbook. He lounges back into his pillows and starts to sketch again, like I’m not even here. That infuriates me. It’s worse, I think, when he pretends I don’t exist versus when he actively ridicules me. Why is that?
“Don’t ignore me,” I demand, moving over to his bed and then climbing onto it. He whips his gaze up to glare at me and scowls. We do that a lot in one another’s presence, scowl like that. “I know it was you. It had to be. With Chasm tagging along, probably.”
“Why are you so goddamn obsessed with Chasm?” he bites back, slamming the cover on his sketchbook closed before I can snag a peek at it. “If you like him so much, ask him out.”
“I don’t date manwhores,” I tell him, biting my lower lip and then lunging forward to grab the sketchbook. Parrish doesn’t expect it, so I manage to pull the move off, yanking the book away from him and then rolling off the bed and onto the floor. As I scramble away, I flip it open to see what he’s been working on.
There’s a dead body with a puddle of blood nearby.
“Whoa, need to see a psychologist much?” I ask just before Parrish snatches the sketchbook back from me. “You need to stop listening to those murder Podcasts; they’re not doing much for your psyche.”
“Get out of my room,” he breathes, just like he did the night I got kidnapped. “Now.”
“Make me.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and we’re left standing there toe to toe, the air thickening and heating with unspoken things, forbidden things, taboo things. He kissed your neck, I remind myself, thinking of that night again, but for entirely different reasons. Why? If he hates you so much, then why?
Parrish just stands there, and then he smiles at me in a way that I can’t explain.
That’s about … two seconds before he leans down and presses his mouth against mine. Just like that. His tongue slips between my lips or maybe I part them for him, I’m not sure, but either way, as soon as he starts kissing me, I start kissing back.
That’s when things get really weird. Parrish’s right arm sweeps me up and he drags me closer, crushing our bodies together. The fingers of his left hand tangle in my hair as he tastes me, slow and languorous, like he has all the time in the world. Stupid, annoying, irritating, rude, piggish, selfish rich boy, I think, but ohmyfuckinggod, he’s delicious, too.
“Stop telling everyone at school I have a small dick,” he whispers, pulling back slightly. He can’t hide the way he’s panting, the way his eyes are half-lidded and heavy. It’s painfully obvious that he’s attracted to me—even if he doesn’t want to be. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing it just to keep the other girls away from me.”