Page 294 of Filthy Elites

“Yeah,” he says, climbing in the window. “But I decided that wasn’t going to work for me. Why should we let a few haters stop us from enjoying each other’s company?”

“It’s not the haters I’m worried about,” I say dryly. “Your girlfriend is a total psycho who may or may not have sent me necrophilia porn.”

“That is pretty weird when you put it that way,” he says. “It wasn’t porn, though, if it makes you feel any better.”

I stare at him.

He closes my window, locks it, then turns around to face me. “I nosed around on her laptop while I was over there earlier. It was a clip from some fucked up Spanish film calledThe Corpse of Anna Fritz. We should watch it. Looked fucking nuts.”

I blink at him. “No thanks.”

He shrugs. “All right. We’ll do something else, then.”

“I was just about to go to bed.”

He smirks. “I like that plan.”

“Alone,” I specify.

“I like that much less.” He walks over to my dresser, casually running a hand along the surface. “I saw your friend Hannah earlier.”

I tense. “Oh?”

He nods, flicking a glance at me. “She’s Anae’s stepsister, so they live in the same house.”

“Right.” I lick my lips. “Um… Did you guys talk, or…?”

He nods again, looking at an old picture of me and Janie propped up against the mirror. “I asked her what she thought of that video.”

“Oh.” My heart thuds in my chest. I never messaged Hannah back when she asked if I was okay. I was too mortified, and some part of me wasn’t sure if she would be on my side once she knew I sent a picture like that to her stepsister’s boyfriend—even if they don’t get along. “What did she say?”

“That I’m an asshole for dragging you into Anae’s path.” He smiles faintly, turning to face me. “She didn’t use that word. She used something nicer. Cruel, I think it was.”

I crack a smile. “I’m not sure if cruel is any nicer than asshole.”

He shrugs. “Not the first time I’ve heard it. Won’t be the last.”

His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he meets my gaze and closes the distance between us.

My heart speeds up. Butterflies scatter in my tummy as he moves so close, I have to look up to hold his gaze.

He smiles, and my heart drops free from its cage.

His hand moves toward me, and then he’s stroking my jaw, causing gooseflesh to erupt all over my body. “Do you think I’m cruel, mermaid?”

Entranced, I shake my head.

“No?” His voice is low, intimate, but confident in a strange way.

He knows he’s taken control of me.

He knows he’s my body’s conductor, orchestrating every flutter, every beat of my pounding heart.

It’s impossible not to think about how we’re in my bedroom alone, in the dark.

I lick my lips. They’re suddenly so dry, I wish I had some water.

“You haven’t been cruel to me,” I say.

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