The smell of the full English has my stomach rumbling, so I waste no time in picking my fork up.
Dad pulls my plate away before my fork can reach the sausage, blocking the meal with his arm. He digs in, stabbing his fork into the sausage I was eyeing.
“Dad!”
“You owe me. Don’t think I forgot that you left your own father to be taken away. After everything I’ve done for you. I let you shit in my favourite hat.”
“I was three months old,” I snap. “I can’t believe you’re going to let your only daughter starve.”
“Why do you smell weird?” he asks, sniffing my hair.
I swat him away. “It’s called being fresh, unlike you, who smells like a brewery.”
“Have mine. I’ll go get another,” Clayton rushes out, pushing back his chair.
Dad sniffs the air, tilting his head up. “Did someone speak?”
“Max,” Mum chides.
I snort. “Dad, stop acting like you wouldn’t have done the same. I only did what you taught me to do.”
“She has you there,” Mum scolds. “You’re old enough to know better.”
“Why are you all blaming me? Malik was the reason we got arrested this time. I’m innocent.”
“You were the cause of it, dickhead,” Malik grits out.
“And,” Dad drawls out, turning to me, “I would have had the genius idea to record it. Not so smart now, are you, short stuff.”
I smirk after swallowing a piece of bacon. “Ah, but I am a genius. Hope got the whole thing.”
Chairs scrape across the tiled floor as they get up to see the footage Hope has saved on her phone.
“Guys, me and Faith cancelled today. We’ve rearranged it for tomorrow. No one is in any fit state to get behind a wheel today.”
Everyone sighs with relief, clearly not looking forward to being tossed around on a Go-Kart.
Since Dad is occupied eating and talking to Mum, I lean in to Clayton, whispering, “Want to try hot tub sex?”
He grins against his mug. “After we try kitchen counter sex. I saw some chocolate I’d love to try,” he tells me, his eyes heating.
My pulse spikes at the promise, and I squeeze my thighs together. “It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Dad snaps.
“Nothing,” Clayton and I squeak.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It’s our last night here, and it’s bittersweet. I don’t want our time here to end, or to go back to a reality where I don’t get to sleep next to him every night.
I’ve only slept over at two guys’ houses before, and both were more out of convenience than actually wanting to be there. And with both, it was a struggle to fall and stay asleep.
With Clayton, neither were a problem—not that we did much sleeping.
Tonight, however, has felt… different. Our large group had split up to have a chilled night, and although others had made plans, Clayton and I decided to stay in by ourselves. He surprised me by cooking us dinner, and even more so when he didn’t make a move to rip my clothes off. Instead, we sat and talked about anything and everything.
It felt like a line had been crossed, and the simple ‘no strings’ had gone out the window. And although I’m more than open to having a relationship with him, I won’t beg. I won’t force or manipulate him into having one, like so many in my situation do. Though it’s hard to keep myself firmly on my side of the line, I respect his choice, even if it is a stupid one.
It isn’t just his behaviour that’s changed, but the intimacy too. Earlier, I had been washing up, when Clayton stepped up behind me, pulling my back against his chest as he nibbled on my neck. I felt closer to him in that moment than I did when we had sex. Which is why his actions are confusing me.
Now I’m in bed, wearing my Ninja Turtles pyjamas, making notes on my report—or trying to, at least.
After a night of amazing sex, I woke up exhausted yet inspired. An idea occurred to me, and yet I’m torn on which direction I want to go with the article. It could go one or both ways. I want to write an article revealing the truth of what happened, but I also want to write the entire story, so the public gets more of a grasp on what happened, from the very first sighting of the gang. When people read it, I want them to truly feel what each victim has gone through, from the first to the last. And there will be a last.
I’ll make sure of it.
I only need one of them to talk, and if a cop is involved, and it’s he who falls into my trap, he’s going to sing like a canary. There is no way he won’t plead for a deal in exchange for giving up the others in the gang.
All criminals do. Because what sets them apart from everyone else is that they’re out for themselves.
When I get home, I want to get some quotes from victims, get their side before I continue writing it. When people read it, I don’t want them doubting my evidence, which is what most people do now because of the ‘fake news’ constantly being published.
I mean, how do they expect people to take the truth seriously if they continue to publish fake articles?
The door creaks, alerting me to Clayton’s presence. I quickly change the screen to the Love Loop Live website before smiling up at Clayton.
“You made me hot chocolate,” I gush, taking the steaming mug from him. “Marshmallows!”
“I ran over to Dean and Lola’s to stock up. I knew how much you wanted one.”
I did. The machine at the café was broken this morning and I was gutted. I need the substance to wake me up. “Thank you.”
“You working?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, staring at the screen.
My attention drifts to the foamy marshmallows, so he doesn’t see the lie. “I like to read posts, answer some if I can. It gives me more time when I come in to go over our segment.”
My mind drifts to Beau. I had hoped to speak to him before now, but he’s always been busy, or my interfering, lovable dad was watching me. He might come across dumb to some people, but for those who know him, we’re well advised on his intelligence. He would know something was up the minute I pulled Beau aside.
“You okay? You seemed to have spaced out.”
I place my mug on the side before facing him. “Yeah, but I, um, need to pop out a minute. I just remembered there’s something I need to talk to Beau about.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll come with you,” he offers, getting off the bed.
I jump out, unable to look at him. “That’s okay. I won’t be long.”
“Okay,” he drawls, sitting back on the bed and leaning against the pillows. “Before you run off, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
I stop reaching for my trainers and sit on the end of the bed, giving him my attention.
“If it’s about the jelly in the fridge, I didn’t know you were saving it,” I tell him, biting my lip.
“What? Wait, that was you? I thought your dad ate it yesterday when he came to see how you were, even though it was obvious he only came to do a room check.”
“I did warn you that would happen,” I remind him. He didn’t believe me when I told him he couldn’t leave his clothes in my room because my dad would do a surprise visit at some point. He only has himself to blame. “But by your reaction, that wasn’t what you wanted to talk to me about.”