Page 31 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

“Just do it, Lucy!”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

On shaky legs, I force myself to rise to my feet. Lucy remains sitting, glaring up at me. There’s a challenge in her eyes, though, and when she realizes that I’m going to follow through with this, she raises her brows at me and stands.

My stomach squirms as the cheers get even louder—so loud that I’m pretty sure a camp counselor is about to come bursting in here. I’m barely aware of my body as we make our way over to the closet. I clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Every gaze on the back of my head feels like needles.

I can’t do this. I want to leave. I want to disappear.

It’s not even about Lucy. She’s pretty. Kissing her isn’t the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me, even if we have been snapping at each other and butting heads all summer.

To make matters worse, the circle on the floor has broken because some of them have decided that we might try to make a run for it before we make it the fifteen feet to the closet. I feel too nauseous to look and see who’s behind us, but all I know is that several people reach out and shove us into the closet rather roughly. Nobody else has gotten this treatment. This is true entertainment for them.

“You’re not coming out until you kiss!” shouts Abby.

I’m plunged into too-warm darkness. The space is so small that I have to press myself against the wall to keep from touching Lucy.

And then a bolt slides into place. From the outside.

“Did you justlock us in here?” shrieks Lucy at the door. “Are you actuallyseriousright now?”

Her protest is met with nothing but raucous laughter.

“Just leave them in there for a while and see what happens,” Jake says.

I resist the urge to bang my fist against the door in anger. I might not like Lucy, but I don’t want to freak her out.

A minute later, we’re relatively alone. The game has resumed, even with the closet currently occupied.

“I’m going to murder all of them,” mutters Lucy.

I want to agree, but I can’t actually speak. In fact, I’m not sure I can even breathe right now. The closet is so small. And the door is locked.

The door islocked.

We’re trapped.

I close my eyes and let my head drop back against the wall. Lucy shifts ever so slightly, the sleeve of her t-shirt brushing against my arm. I can smell the sunscreen still lingering on her skin and her fruity shampoo.

“Let’s just get it over with, Danvers,” she sighs.

“No,” I blurt.

“No?”

“No.”

“If we do it, they’ll let us out.”

“No.”

She scoffs. “Am I really that repulsive to you?”

No, I mean to say.You’re not repulsive at all. Not really.

Unfortunately, words choose to fail me in that moment.

“Whatever,” she grumbles.

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