Page 50 of Hate Game

Nothing.

“Rue, open up.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Can’t we do that tomorrow?”

“You’re awake. I’m up. Unless you’reafraid?”

The door swings open. “I amnotscared of you, Malice Sterling.”

“Good.” Looking her up and down, I walk past and plop down on the bed. She is mighty fine in a pair of light pink shorts and a white tank top with a rainbow that spans across her perky tits.

“What are you doing?” She stands by the open door with her arms crossed.

“Settling down for a night of keeping my eye on you.” I pat the spot next to me. “Come here.”

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t want to.”

I make clucking noises.

“Malice.”

I reassure her I don’t bite.

“Says you.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, Rue.”

She shakes her head.

“Please.”

She sighs. “Fine, but only because you used the nice word.” She takes a spot across from me with her legs crossed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Whatever is on your mind.”

“Sleep,” she answers.

“Before that.”

“Nothing.”

“It was more than nothing. I could hear you stomping around.”

“I was rearranging the room.”

I glance around the decent-sized room. There is a pine dresser across from the bed. A large monstera plant is tucked in a corner where it gets enough sunlight through the west-facing windows. There is an empty bookshelf against the wall opposite the windows. Nothing is out of place.

“Try again.”

She picks at the covers. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s not good.” I rest my head on the headboard.

“It never is, is it?” She bunches the covers in her hand.

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