Page 68 of Runaways

"Wait, what?" he asks. He rolls onto his back, stretching his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up. "What are you doing? What are you sorry about?"

My eyes drop to the exposed skin above his waistline…and then to his hard dick tenting in his sweats.

Jesus. It must be huge…unlike my prom date.

"Um…I…"

Silas shrugs, adjusting it with his hand, which only gives me a better look. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asks.

I swallow hard. I can think of a couple of things.

"I'm just going to go. Sorry…again."

I race for the door, too fucking embarrassed to hear anything he's saying, and when I step out into the hallway, I find myself face-to-face with Tate.

"Whoa," he says. "What were you doing in there?"

"Nothing!" I reply, my tone a little too defensive.

"Liar. You're in your clothes from yesterday, you're a mess, and you've got this really guilty look on your face. So, please, do tell, and don't spare any details…for personal reasons."

"I'm not lying."

"Look, I'm not judging you; I'm proud of you. But it's fine—Silas will tell me."

"Whatever. I'm leaving."

"What's going on?" Silas asks, appearing in the doorway.

"Nothing," Tate says. "Noah's being a slutty little liar, aren't you, Noah?"

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there's a part of me that enjoyed hearing Tate call me slutty—that likes the way he's looking at me and that he's thinking of me that way at all.

"Hey, Noah," Silas says. "You should go stand in the grass."

"What?"

But when I look down at my body, I'm not wearing my prom dress anymore. I'm in my bikini top and a pair of sandals, standing in a puddle.

What? What's happening? This isn't how it happened.

And when I look back at Silas, he's hurling a speaker in my direction…

"Ahhh!" I scream, sitting up in bed. "Oh, shit. Shit."

"Are you okay?" Mason asks. "You were having a nightmare."

Fuck. He slept over. I shouldn't have let him sleep over, and I know that. Maybe that's why I dreamt of falling asleep with Silas after prom—I shouldn't have been there, either.

"Yeah, just…a nightmare. Well, it was a good dream first, and then it was bad."

"Who's Silas?"

My heart drops into my stomach.

"What do you mean? I don't know anyone named Silas."

"You said the name in your sleep—a few times."

---