Page 236 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

There’s only a single light on in the house, on the second story.

Too far away. A yellow blur.

I glance around, but there’s nothing to see except more shadows and the deep purple of approaching night. Setting down the bottle, I push away from the cover of the trees and rushover the lawn. My back presses into the house’s wooden slats, and I count a few hundred breaths before daring to peek out at an angle. I’m almost right under the light. The window is small, so it must be a bathroom or something.

Fuck knows why, but I want to be inside. I want to see her again, even if she doesn’t want to see me. And the fact that I can’t fight that feeling scares the living bejesus out of me.

You’re losing control again.

You should be leaving, not breaking in.

But my hand’s already on the doorknob of what I assume is this place’s back door. My breath already stifled in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. I’m drunk, sure, but I’ve been sneaking around houses since I was a little boy. This stuff comes naturally to me. I take off my sneakers and leave them outside before inching my way into the quiet house.

Despite my precautions, I can’t prevent the floorboards creaking under my weight. If it weren’t for the roaring in my ears, I might have thought twice about proceeding. But I’m already in the middle of a dark kitchen, and my thumping heart practically propels me forward.

As does an intense urge to know what the fuck makes this girl so special, how the fuck she’s capable of messing with my mind. I haven’t fucked anyone since Jess because I didn’t want to lose control again.

Honestly, I haven’t even felt the urge, until I met Indi.

I’m facing stairs. It’s nothing like the sweeping stairways and magnificent landing at Briar Manor with its massive fuck-off chandelier.

I’m halfway up before I realize I never had any intention of turning back. I knew I was going to be inside this house right after I kissed Indigo in the park. Which raises a fuck load of questions I am too drunk to answer.

A stair creaks loudly under my foot. I pause, my heart jumping into my fucking throat. But there’s no ‘aha!’ No one demanding that I leave.

And when nothing happens, I push on.

Light shines under a closed door midway down the hall. The air here is scented with something girly—flowers, or candy, or something.

I stop outside the door, and stare for a second at the inch-wide gap.

It’s not even closed all the way.

Which, to my beer-goggled mind is better than a golden, hand-lettered invitation.

Chapter Sixteen

Indi

“Mmm, mm, mmmm, mm, mm.” I tap my foot against the end of the bath, splashing water everywhere. My earbuds are on full blast, sending wave after wave of cathartic heavy metal deep into my ear canals.

Yeah, kill them all, you fucking motherfucker.

“Mmm, mmmmmmm, mm.”

I need more wine. I grab a metal goblet from the rim of the bath, and shiver a little as a light breeze caresses my arm. I glance over at the bathroom door, and frown hard.

The fuck? Did I leave it open?

Admittedly, I’d already had three glasses of wine—some really decent red—before remembering I wanted to submerge myself in a mountain range of bubbles.

I gulp at the wine and set it back on the rim. Breaking off another block of chocolate from the slab, I slip it into my mouth.

“Mmmm, mmm, mmmmm.”

Kill other motherfuckers, kill them fucking dead.

My foot resumes its splash-tapping.

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