Page 57 of Ricochet

No. I’m not there yet.

I only just stopped hating him.

Of course, after his reaction earlier, I’m even more confused about what exactly I feel toward him. That was…well, pretty fucking toxic. But I also can’t deny that it felt kind of good to be wanted that intensely. Even when my stepdad owned me, he never cared when—

I shove those thoughts back into the dark hole where I store everything else. It’s a wide chasm, a deep abyss, where all thoseshadows live. It’s all I can do to keep them from drifting out and enveloping me until I suffocate and die.

My eyes slide from my biology textbook open on my lap to my pillow where my secret sketchbook is stashed beneath it. Since last weekend, the number of sketches within its pages have nearly doubled. Since I couldn’t get close enough to see Stone’s kill clearly, I had to use my imagination for a lot of the details. It ended up kind of running away from me, and there are more than a dozen drawings done from different angles with different expressions.

In most of them, the stranger’s eyes are empty and blank while Stone’s are filled with emotion—relief or rejoice or repose.

But every sketch is bloody.

I want another kill to draw.

And I’m pretty sure I know when and how to see one.

Something tells me that the kill on the dock that night wasn’t Stone’s first, nor was it a one-off. He was furious after our game that night. He was just as enraged after practice today, if not more so. The look in his eyes was familiar.

I could be wrong, but if I’m not…

Making a decision, I reach beneath my pillow and slip the book out. I shove it into my bag, hop off the bed, and put on my shoes. When I open my bedroom door, I see Jesse and Eric on the couch with textbooks and papers spread out on the coffee table.

“Hey, man,” I say, looking at Jesse. “Sorry to interrupt. Do you think I could borrow your car?”

“Everything okay?”

I don’t blame him for asking. I rarely ever ask anything of him.

“Yeah, of course. I just told someone I’d meet them at the library to study. It’s already pretty late, so I’d rather be able to drive back instead of walk when we’re done.”

“Oh. Sure, go for it.” He nods over at his keys that are hanging on the hook by the door.

“I could’ve picked you up when we’re done here,” Eric says.

“Thanks, but I don’t know how late I’m going to be.” I take Jesse’s keys off the hook and put them in my pocket. The campus library is open all night during the week, so it’s a decent alibi. “See you guys later.”

I open the front door and step outside. Once I’m in Jesse’s car, I pull out my phone and open my texts with Stone. The last ones were from yesterday while I was working on my biology paper that’s due next week.

Stone: What are you wearing?

Me: Really? You’re going with that?

Stone: I’m only asking so I know what I’ll be taking off you when you get here.

When I read that one, I distinctly remember my face bursting out into flames and my cock twitching in my pajama pants.

Stone: 405 Winter Oaks Dr. Apt. 112

Me: I’m not going anywhere. I have a paper to write.

Stone: So do I. Sounds like we could both use a break. ;)

Me: No.

And that was the end of it. He never texted me back. I didn’t mind. I really did need to work on that paper.

Of course, when I imagined him taking care of things himself after I refused to come over, I ended up needing to take that break anyway. I only managed a few hundred words of my essay after that. I should be staying home and trying to get it finished because I know I won’t get much time this weekend between the two games we have.

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