Page 31 of Sweet Punk
Raven laughs. “Between this and the strange guy telling me that my room and board hadn’t been paid yet… kinda weird.”
I draw in an unsteady breath. “I guess I missed catching up with you about it while I was with Kellan yesterday. So, the entire bursar’s office thing was crap?”
“Totalcrap. I was so upset, Maddox had to speak to them for me. But they were able to verify that everything’s a-go for my scholarship. I don’t have to pay anything anymore. And they had no idea who we were talking about when I described the guy.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Do I tell them? I don’t know what to do. They’re going to be pissed. I feel like a complete asshole that I’ve kept this from them. I’m positive he’s been responsible for everything crazy happening around here—the fire alarms, my handsy dance partner, the destruction of my room, the scholarship confusion, and now this note? This is all typical Milo behavior right before he goes in for the kill.
Lux fiddles with something in her hand. “This is the second one of these I’ve found in our suite.” She tosses a matchbook onto the table. “Odd, right?”
SIXTEEN
STAR
The second Lux drops that matchbook on the table, I bolt out of my seat so fast I knock over my chair, stunning my friends. Despite their shouts to come back and tell them what’s wrong, I shoot out the door of the coffee bar and take off, sprinting as fast as my feet can carry me. And I’m damn fast, so if I don’t want anyone to catch me, it isn’t going to happen.
I head for the library, determined to hide out for a while. Inside, I climb the stairs to the third floor and find a spot where I can see anyone who might be coming my way. I’ll totally just chill here until it’s time for my one o’clock art class later.
My mind reels thinking about how Milo had just appeared out of nowhere, leaning against that tree, not thirty yards from me. A violent shudder shakes my body to my core. I’m completely overwhelmed with everything this means.I knew.I knew before I’d ever seen him that he was here. There’d been way too many things that pointed to it. But damn, was it too much to expect I could come to Shadow River and not have him follow me? My eyes crash shut. I can’t believe this is happening. I need to talk to my mom. Maybe I can convince her this time. Maybe things will go differently. Nothing about this situation is good.
With a sigh, I dig into my bag for my sketchbook so I can work for a few minutes on my art assignment.Shit.I poke around, but it’s not there. I must have left it back in my room. Glancing at my phone, I note I barely have enough time to go back to fetch it before class. So much for getting any of the assignment done.
Ten minutes later, I jog up the steps to Duke Hall. Outside, I grasp my ID and scan it, then yank the main door open. Giving a cursory glance around the lobby, I’m glad to find I’m alone. I suppose at this rate, Milo could be anywhere. I’ll have to be on guard at all times now. I take a deep breath and climb the stairs to the second floor, fumbling for my keys as I hurry down the hall. At our suite, I slip the key into the lock and let myself in, then move directly to my room.
When I jam the key into the lock and begin to twist it, the door pulls open from the inside, yanking me forward by the neck and sending me to my hands and knees. I gasp aloud at the impact. Pain shoots from my kneecaps up my thighs.
In shock, I don’t register at first what’s happened, only understanding that the breakaway safety feature of my lanyard has actually worked. The key is still in the lock, the nylon lanyard dangling from it in two pieces. Wincing, I swallow and for the first time, I look up to figure out what the hell just happened. Warning bells clang in my head, sharp and true, the way they always have.
Black combat boots, holey jeans, black leather jacket. Matching blacker-than-sin hair, and eyes so deep and dark, I swear they belong to the devil himself.Milo.I shriek and scramble to my feet, automatically backing away with my heart up in my goddamn throat.No.
“Hey, pretty Star,” he grits, his voice deeper than the last time I spoke to him. He steps out of my bedroom, stalking toward me as I back my way into our suite’s common living space. He eyes me like I’m something he’d like to snatch up and hide away until he’s ready to play with me. Because that’s how Milo’s always looked at me, as his plaything. He rakes his teeth over his lower lip, tilting his head to the side. “I like the pink in your hair. That’s sexy. Did you do that for me?”
I suck in a terrified breath as my brain tries to wrap around the fact that this psychotic asshole is standing so close he could reach out and grab me. He’s broader than he once was, has way more muscle, and he’s a lot taller, too. And that means if I couldn’t fight him off before, I’m going to have one hell of a time of it now. I pivot, knowing my only option is to try to run from him.
Moving lightning fast, he’s on me, yanking me hard, his fingers clawing into my bicep. I know he’s going to bruise me. He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my middle, and lifts me clear off my feet, crushing me to his chest. “Now, where the fuck do you think you’re going, pretty Star? I thought you came home early so we could get reacquainted.”
What does he mean Icame home early? Oh. Shit.Of course. He’s probably hacked into some university computer system. I bet he knows my entire schedule. He probably knows all of our schedules, considering he’s been able to creep in and out of here, leaving us notes and matchbooks and who knows what else.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!I struggle against him, but his arms only cage me tighter. My breathing is shallow and fast. I have to get away from him.
I squirm and twist, kicking into his shins with the heels of my boots. “What the hell are you doing here, Milo?” I shrug my shoulders this way and that, trying to dislodge his hold on me.
“Star. First, you know I always do whatever the fuck I want.” His voice is deadly quiet as he whispers in my ear. “And second, have you forgotten how I get off on it when you struggle?” I go limp, hoping it’ll make him drop me, but he barks out a devious chuckle. “I can hold you with one arm, sis. You’re always going to be smaller than me. More vulnerable. I can do whatever I want to you or with you. And you never know when I’ll follow through and make good on my word—you know it wasn’t a threat but a promise.”
Fear races through my veins. One of Milo’s favorite things when we lived in our parents’ house was to sneak into my bed and talk about how good it will be for me when he finally decides to fuck me. He gets off on the entire stepbrother-stepsister dynamic.
Clutching me to him with one steel-banded arm, he digs into his pocket before he brings something up in front of my face. My breath hitches when I focus on the matchbook in front of me. I freeze.
“You’ve never liked my fondness for fire. Not when I burned down that tree out back and blamed it on a lightning strike. Not when I set the cat’s tail on fire.”
I shudder. Poor Kismet had run around, making the most awful noise until he dropped dead. It was horrifying. I cried for a week afterward, but I’ve never gotten another pet since. No way. And somehow Milo had convinced his father that the cat simply walked too close to the fireplace. Such bullshit.
“Why do you think you can get away with whatever you want?”Keep him talking. Maybe he’ll forget about the matchbook.I make every attempt to keep my eyes from drifting to it, but it’s hard. He keeps waving it in my face.
“Easy. Because I’m Raymond Frank’s son. And I can do no wrong. That’s what he’s always told me.”
Milo’s right. He’s the same smooth-talking devil he’s always been, able to convince everyone that he’s a shining example of what a young man should be. He must be, as Raymond Frank’s son, right? No one has ever understood that he’s a ruthless, conniving psychopath except me. Not his dad, not even my mom, who is supposed to be on my side. He gets something in his head, and he makes it happen, then conveniently has excuses and alibis that seem plausible to everyone but me.
Milo manipulates those around him and possesses not a single ounce of empathy for anyone else. He doesn’t feel guilt or remorse for a goddamn thing he’s ever done to me or anyone else. Add to all that a penchant for fire-starting, and he becomes one hell of a scary dude.
I won’t let him see that I’m terrified and about to piss my pants. I gasp, “I’m done. I’m done being scared of you.” And even though my voice is unwavering, I know he sees right through me.
