Page 4 of Keep Me

“Yeah. She told me to pick her up, but I think she already left.” I wave my phone to imply the girl has called or texted me. “So, I’ll just…be on my way.”

His brows pinch inward skeptically.

“So, you just barge into my house uninvited?”

“Yeah, I—”

When his lazy focus turns back to me, I notice a change in his demeanor. His eyes rake up and down my body before landing on my face and leaning in a little closer.

“Go on…” he mutters in a low, teasing manner. Goose bumps develop across my arms and neck. The man looks to be older than me, maybe midthirties. With long brown hair and a thick beard, all I can really see are his bright green eyes.

“I was just looking…”

“For your friend,” he says, finishing my sentence.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers, his face so close I feel his breath on my cheek.

I jerk on my arm, but he still won’t release it. “Then, let me go,” I argue.

A wicked grin tilts the corner of his mouth. “I’m just starting to wonder…” he says with a note of sarcasm in his voice, “if you’re here for the same reason she was. Perhaps you can pick up where she left off.”

My blood runs cold, and I feel the heavy weight of fear settle in my stomach like I’ve swallowed a stone. Is he really implying that I’m here to sleep with him?

“Let me go,” I mutter through my teeth.

With a few steps toward the wall, he slowly corners me against it. “Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer.

“This is why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No!” I shout, putting a hand on his chest and trying to shove him away. Like a brick wall, he doesn’t budge. There’s a hint of humor on his face, and I can’t quite tell, but I think he’s teasing me. Saying all of this just to scare me. It’s working.

“Then, why are you in my house?” he replies. His playful smirk fades, and it’s replaced with something more sinister. “Are you spying for my sister?”

I flinch. “What? No.”

When his eyes trail to the phone in my hand, his brow creases. I already know what he’s about to do, so when I struggle to release myself from his grip, it’s futile.

“Give me this,” he growls, snatching the phone from my hand.

“Stop!” I scream.

Then, I watch in horror as he tosses my phone to the floor and stomps the heel of his boot on it so hard it shatters against the hardwood.

Finally, he releases my arm, and I gape at the broken phone on the floor. “You brute!” I scream, taking a swing at him. My hand lands disappointingly against the thick muscles of his arm, clearly causing him no pain at all.

“What did you do that for?” I shout.

He points a finger in my face. “You tell my bitch of a sister that she’s not getting my house, and she can stop sending her little friends to spy on me. Now, get out.”

His lips curl in a sneer as he points to the door. Then, he drops his arm and walks away, leaving me to blink in disbelief.

“Hey!” I call after him. “You need to replace my phone!”

Still walking away from me toward the back of the house, he doesn’t respond to my shouting.

“Asshole!” I yell again. “I’m talking to you.”

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