Page 77 of Raise Hell

Sixteen

Excerpt from the diary of Olivia Pratt:

Tonight is the night.

Everyone will be at the Bacchanal, getting wasted and running wild. This is my chance to show him that he can’t keep me hidden away where no one else can touch me. If he isn’t willing to show me off to the world, then I’ll find someone who will.

I’ve spent too much of life feeling invisible, and I’m done with it. Keeping quiet has never gotten me what I wanted, not ever. Now it’s time to make some noise. I am going to this party. When I walk in, every person there is going to notice me.

The old Olivia is gone, and the new one doesn’t sit around waiting for a guy to call.

Everything changes tonight.

I’ll show him. I’ll show all of them.

* * *

A loud bangingon my door wakes me up way too early on Monday morning. My bleary gaze moves to the cell phone on my nightstand, and I fumble for it as I try to check the time.

Class doesn’t start for another hour.

“Go away,” I yell through the pillow that I pull back over my head.

The knocking comes again, louder this time. Anya shouts through the door when I don’t respond.

She sounds both excited and terrified.

“Olivia! Seriously, you have to get up. Drake is here.”

Drake is here.

I scramble up into a sitting position. “Jesus, what does he want?”

“He didn’t say, but you better hurry.”

Guess it didn’t take long for him to figure out his bike is wrecked.

I shoot out of bed too quickly and bang my knee hard on the wooden bed frame. One glance in the mirror confirms that my hair looks like birds have been nesting in it, and the imprint of my embroidered pillowcase is pressed into my cheek.

I briefly consider locking the door and refusing to see him. The window is another option, although probably not the best idea considering we’re three stories up. “Tell him to go away.”

But it isn’t Anya who answers this time.

“Open the door,” Drake growls. “Before I break it down.”

Oh shit.

At some point, Anya and I are going to need to have a conversation about letting people into the apartment. Doors have locks for a damn reason.

“Just wait a minute, Jesus.”

I run my fingers through my hair, even though it won’t do a bit of good.

Without a drop of makeup on and my eyes still crusty with sleep, I look like the crypt keeper.

Drake bangs on the door, hard enough that he must be kicking it. “You have five seconds.”

Grabbing a face wipe, I scrub away the worst of my raccoon eyes.

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