Page 45 of Vile Boys

The walk upstairs is agonizing, my heart beating faster and faster as we get closer to the hallway and farther away from safety. I can hear his footsteps behind me, like a looming shadow creeping up on me.

I clear my throat and touch the handle of the door once we get there, but the second I try to open it, he pushes me up against the door and plants two firm hands against the wood, trapping me between his arms.

“You did this.” His voice is gruff. Unsteady.

“Did what?” I mutter.

He leans in closer, throwing me a menacing glare. “Don’t play innocent.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They’re dating.”

I raise a brow. “So?”

“They barely even know each other.”

“Love works in mysterious ways,” I respond.

When I try to move away, he won’t let me.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t the cause of this.” He points at my chest. “You and your mother weren’t supposed to be there. And now my dad can’t stop talking about your mom.”

I shrug. “I don’t see the problem.”

His finger slides down my chest, and my breath catches in my throat when he lingers near my nipple, barely grazing it. “I don’t think you understand, so let me make this fucking crystal clear for you.” I hiss when he pinches my nipple with his index finger and thumb. “My dad is a catch, and if they get together for real, there’s a considerable chance they’ll get engaged and married.”

I try not to react as he twists harder and harder. But it’s really, really hard.

“And that means we become something neither of us wants.”

I gulp back the moan stuck in my throat when he finally releases my nipple.

“Do you get the picture now?”

I know what he’s trying to insinuate.

I narrow my eyes. “You seem awfully opposed to your dad falling in love with someone and actually being happy.”

He scoffs. “My dadishappy. He doesn’t need another woman. Especially notyourmother.” He taps my chest like I’m some kind of bug he needs to squash.

“I can’t stop them,” I say.

He leans in, growling, “Make them.”

“How?”

His nostrils flare. “I don’t care how. Break. Them. Up.”

“No.”

“No what?” he retorts.

“No, I’m not going to tell them to split.”

His eyes look like they might start shooting darts at me.

“Youwilldo it,” he grits.

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