Page 16 of Runaways

"What the fuck are you talking about, Tate?"

"We'll take you to Calvin's party."

"Why would you do that?" I ask. "You hate Calvin."

"I want to play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"It's called 'Obey.' You have to do whatever I tell you for the entire night without hesitating or asking why."

"And what if I don't?" I ask, taking a swig of my beer.

"I'll spank you," he says.

I choke on my drink. Heat rushes to my face…and between my legs. It isn't the first time he's said something like that to me, but he isn't laughing, and his gaze is far too intense for me to believe he's joking this time.

"Okay," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Okay? So, you agree?"

"I don't know. What's in it for me?"

"If you're a good girl, we'll let you play again."

"Yeah, no, thanks."

"I'll give you the tip," he says, causing Silas to burst into laughter.

"I'm leaving."

"No, I'm serious. If our mission is successful, I'll give you an actual money tip. Come on, Noah. You always like our games. Trust me, you'll like this one, too. I think you'll like it a lot."

I consider it for a minute, tapping the side of my beer bottle with my finger. He isn't wrong—Idousually like their games. Though sometimes dangerous and usually illegal, they're exciting. And that's better than nothing.

Like last summer when we stayed in someone's empty rental cabin for four days before the housekeeper showed up and caught us. Or when we hid inside the movie theatre until after it closed and stayed there all night, getting drunk and eating candy until we threw up.

Or when we found out Silas's mom's ex was an abusive drunk, and when a piece of paper wouldn't keep him away, and the police didn't seem to care very much, we filled his trunk with stolen catalytic converters and called in an anonymous tip.

They cared about that.

But there's one big difference between all of those other times and now—Mia was there, too. Mia hasn't been around in a while, and without her, something within our dynamic has shifted. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but it makes me nervous.

And they've never made me nervous before.

"What else are you going to do tonight, Noah? You wanted to go to a party—we'll take you to a party," Silas says.

"Don't want that slutty skirt to go to waste, do you?" Tate asks.

"It's your sister's slutty skirt."

"Ew. Are we going or not?"

I look at Silas, hoping to get a better read on what's going on. But if there's something more sinister at hand, he doesn't show it.

"Fine," I relent.

Tate clasps his hands together before standing. "Cool," he says. "I'll go get dressed. Maybe you can even make a new friend who isn't Silas. That was rude, by the way."

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