Page 5 of Bonepetal
I bend to grab my bra from the floor, the lace cold between my fingers. The rest of my clothes are scattered like breadcrumbs leading back to the door. My dress is draped over the chair, my underwear hooked on the bedpost like a trophy.
“Leaving so soon?”
His voice hits me from behind—low, rough, and smug in that just-woke-up way that makes it crawl under my skin. I freeze mid-step, one shoe in my hand, because of course he’s awake now.
I turn slowly, sheet still clutched around me like it’s a shield. He’s propped up on one elbow, eyes half-lidded but sharp,dragging over me like he’s cataloging every inch of bare skin I haven’t managed to cover.
“Don’t start,” I say, even though I haven’t decided if I mean it.
He grins, lazy and lethal, like he can hear the shift in my pulse from across the room. “Not starting anything. Just making conversation.”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I lean over to grab it, the sheet slipping dangerously low as I swipe open the screen.
Miles
You in for tonight? Haunted hayride & corn maze. Jamie’s coming.
And don’t say no. You need fun.
I snort and set the phone down long enough to shove my foot into my sock. “Guess I’ve got plans.”
One brow arches. “Oh yeah?”
“Miles wants me to third-wheel him and his new date at the haunted hayride and corn maze.”
Nathan’s smirk tilts, knowing. “Yeah, he mentioned it to me yesterday.”
The words roll off his tongue lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s still completely bare, the blanket pooled low around his hips, skin warm-toned and smooth over lean muscle. His chest is broad, lightly dusted with hair, tapering to the hard lines of his stomach. A shadow of stubble roughens his jaw, making him look like sin that just rolled out of bed. His dark hair is mussed, curling slightly at the ends, like he’s been raking his fingers through it in his sleep, or maybe while watching me.
That makes me pause. “Why would he mention it to you?”
“Because he told me to drag you along if you tried to bail.” He sits up all the way now, the blanket sliding off his lap, completely unapologetic. “We should go.”
I stare at him, suspiciously. “Since when are you into hayrides?”
“Since they involve you, and me having an excuse to watch you get jump-scared in the dark.”
I roll my eyes, because anything else would be admitting I might actually consider it. “We’ll see.”
“Translation,” he says, leaning back with that infuriating grin, “you’ll be there. Besides, it could be fun.”
“Fun,” I echo, hooking the clasp of my bra behind my back.
“Yeah,” he replies, like it’s obvious. “Hayrides, cider… your friend trying to make some theatre guy fall in love with him? We’ll make a night of it.” His gaze lingers, like he’s memorizing me in pieces. Then he pushes off the bed, stretching. “I’m gonna grab a shower. I have to be in the office early today for some meetings, and then I’ll pick you up later. Seven?”
“Seven,” I say, even though it feels like agreeing to something I can’t get out of.
He leans in, brushes his lips over my temple, squeezes my knee, and disappears down the hallway. A second later, water roars through the pipes.
I stand there a beat longer, the room smelling faintly of bergamot and his skin, before moving to gather the rest of my clothes.
I dress slowly—black jeans ripped at the knee, a sheer mesh-sleeved top under a faded oversized cardigan. My boots are cracked at the soles, but I like them that way. Worn, ruined, real. I smudge on a little black eyeliner with a shaky hand and smear red balm across my mouth, not because I care how I look, but because I need the war paint.
The necklace rests heavy against my chest, the same way it has every day since I was twelve. A tooth set in black resin, framed in tarnished silver. Finn found it for me in the forest half-buried in the dirt after a hunting trip with the elders. Most kids would’ve thrown it away. He’d pressed it into my palm, blood from his knuckles still smeared across the enamel.
He knew I had this way of seeing beauty where no one else did, like something was wrong with me. Where other people saw rot, I saw wonder. Bones, teeth, feathers snapped mid-flight. Dried petals falling apart in the dirt, flowers once bright now brittle and curling in on themselves. Things that used to breathe, that used to bloom. Beautiful once and now forgotten. Morbid, they called it. But to me it was proof that even in decay, something could still matter.
So when he found the tooth in the forest, grinning like he’d discovered treasure he knew I’d want it, so, he pressed it into my palm like a secret. I mounted it, strung it, and wore it against my skin. I never took it off. Not once.
