Page 33 of Kings Against the World

But it’s long enough that I feel like he’s taken a snapshot in his head of what I look like. He’s memorized every small detailfrom how the straps hang on my shoulders to how the shorts fit on my hips. I’m left warm like earlier, acutely aware of his attraction.

Attraction that’s more than teasing on his part.

Attraction that might be a little more mutual than I’ve led on.

I stare straight ahead and ignore looking directly at him as I march toward my side of the bed. That doesn’t make a difference to him—he openly stares anyway, watching as I fluff my pillow and plug my phone into the charger.

He notices my last second hesitation before climbing in bed. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll behave myself. I promise you’ll survive the night.”

“Something tells me you’d prefer not to be kneed in the groin. So you don’t really have a choice.”

He grins crookedly. “How many times do I have to tell you that’s right up my alley? Night, Zoe.”

“Night,” I murmur, reaching for the lamp.

We sleep with the TV on, the volume down low.

Ozzie’s a back sleeper. He remains in the same position, clutching the remote, his other arm hooked over the top of his pillow. I’m a side sleeper, so I’m forced to either face the balcony and the curtains or… face him.

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Time becomes relative as I slip off and jolt awake thinking it’s been hours. Checking my phone tells me it’s actually only been forty minutes. I fall asleep again and find myself tossing and turning. My eyes are closed but I’m still lucid.

When I do convince my brain to finally stop going a hundred miles a minute, I sink into tense, vague dreams about Mom and Dad. Zani’s home again and I’m obsessed with scrubbing the floor clean. Someone’s pounding on the door and Zani’s begging Dad not to answer.

“Please… don’t let him in… don’t let him in!”

“He’s no good,” Mom slurs. She shakes her head, then shuffles over to the stereo to put her music on. Al Green as always, the perfect escape. “Always getting us into some foolishness.”

I scrub at the floor, refusing to look up. The sponge leaks soap and water as I squeeze it and then scrub harder and harder at the tiles.

Instead, the blood spreads. It pools across the tiles the more I try to wipe it clean.

Why won’t it go away? Why won’t these stains disappear? Why doesn’t it ever get clean again?

I grit my teeth and put more muscle into it, scrubbing so hard that my wrist aches…

My stomach’s hit with the sensation that I’m falling. My eyes pop open and I cling to my pillow, slowly realizing I’m still in bed. I was dreaming and it started to feel a little too real.

Careful so as not to disturb Ozzie, I swipe my phone off the nightstand and get up to go out onto the balcony. I pause, easing the glass door to the side, and glance over my shoulder one last time. If I didn’t know any better, his breathing pattern has changed. His eyes were open, if only for a quick second.

But when I look back, he’s as still as ever. He’s seemingly sound asleep.

Maybe I’m imagining things.

I step out onto the balcony and survey the glittering view of the Strip from twelve stories up. The warm summer night air brushes my skin and reminds me I’m awake now. I’m no longer trapped in that dream, reliving some warped version of the past.

I’m in Vegas and I’m on the cusp of avenging my sister.

So close to finally taking Boone down that I can almost taste it. No matter what I have to do, no matter the cost, I’m going to make him suffer. Even if I destroy myself in the process.

The next morning, Benz texts me to show up at the casino lobby. Ozzie’s still in bed when I slip out from underneath the covers and grab my toiletry bag to head into the bathroom. I shower, brush my teeth, and wash my face before realizing I didn’t bring in a change of clothes. Wrapping my body up in a bath towel, I crack the door open and peek out.

Ozzie hasn’t budged an inch. His eyes are closed.

I spring forward like a gazelle, my steps quick and bouncy, toes barely touching the floor. I make it all the way to my suitcase assuming I’m undetected.

Then, as I’m clutching my towel to my chest and carefully reaching into a side pouch for underwear, Ozzie speaks.

“I never pegged you as a bikini cut kinda girl.”

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