Page 54 of Stitches

“I’mbeing difficult? You’re the one who won’t let me sleep and wants to go stomping around at midnight in the cold.”

“I’d have let you sleep once I smothered you with your pillow.”

“Don’t do me any fucking favors,” he muttered.

I let out a soft chuckle. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sinclair?” I threw my arm around his shoulder.

“Get off me.” He shoved me away, making me laugh harder. “You’re such a fucking creep.”

“I’m the creep?” We stepped onto the dark path, and I looked around. “Look at you out here at midnight with me. What’s that say about you?”

“That my creep roommate wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“So sassy, Sinclair. That’s a huge turn on for me.”

He let out a soft curse.

“Come. Let’s go into the woods.”

He groaned but followed me into the trees. After several long minutes of trampling through the dark forest, he finally spoke.

“You could have killed me in the dorm.”

“Of course, I could have. I could have killed you a million times while I stood over your bed and watched you sleep every night. But I haven’t.”

He swore at me again, making me laugh.

“You really watch me sleep?”

“Of course. I like it when those around me are vulnerable,” I said, stopping near the small clearing and leaning against a tree. I pulled out a special sugar-laced joint and lit it. I’d procured it from the streets not long ago out of curiosity. I knew it was all the rage, albeit a bit pricey. I took a hit before handing it off to him.

He eyed it for a moment before taking it and pulling in a drag.

“Didn’t know you smoked this shit,” he said. “Thought you just did weed. What is it called again?”

“It’s called sugar,” I answered, taking back the sugar stick and smoking while I continued to lean against the tree. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Perfect time to ask any questions you have. We can play twenty questions.”

“OK.” He settled on a fallen log and stared at me through the dim moonlight. “Why the fuck are we out here in the cold at midnight?”

“We’re hunting,” I said simply.

“What are we hunting?”

“Oh, you never know.” I took another hit and handed it back to him before blowing out the smoke.

He sighed and inhaled his hit deeply. We stayed in silence for quite a while before he asked another question.

“Where were you last night? You didn’t come home.”

“I had to see a friend.”

“What’s that friend’s name?”

“The Archangel,” I said, resting the back of my head against the tree, enjoying the high. “He has fallen so low. Time is ticking for the seed he sows.”

“Sounds major.” Sin stretched and let out a yawn.

“It is,” I said, looking down at him on the log. “You’ll see.”

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