Page 15 of Beg for It
Clarity pools in his eyes, and he excuses himself from his friends, promising to catch up later. I don’t even care enough to lecture him. He wraps a protective arm around me as we push our way back out of the bar.
The night air is crisp, and the walk back to Josh’s car helps recalibrate my mind from the absolute cluster it had devolved into.
“You smell like beer.”
“We were in a bar,” I huff.
“You feel like beer.”
“That doesn’t even—oh, you mean my sleeve.” I shrug out of his hold and bring my elbow to my nose.
Just great.
My face scrunches up at the telltale stench. I am either going to have to sneak this into the wash without our mother noticing or stash it somewhere she won’t find or smell it between now and Sunday.
“You sure you’re fine, Bee?” He opens the passenger door for me.
“Just tired.”
I can tell he wants to press me, but he shuts the door without saying another word. I settle against the leather seats, trying to avoid inhaling the beer stench and emptying my brain of anything to do with Eli Cross.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELI
Some people might consider this stalking.
I consider it more of a friendly neighborhood visit.
Especially since I have to find a way to arrive at the Hanes’ house without tailing the siblings on the road back and without alerting the gated community’s security team to my presence when I enter. But that’s what I have Felix for. A little this, a little that, and boom—south side security cameras are down, and I can climb over the fence and into Trinity Village without a trace, like a phantom.
The fact that these gated communities consider themselves their own miniature safe havens is ridiculous. All technology can be hacked, and the security guards they employ are little more than mall-grade rent-a-cops. I could take two of them down easily. Bash could probably take out the entire team without breaking a sweat.
Dude is a fucking scary beast when he gets going.
I used to sneak into Trinty Village a fair amount in high school, and not much has changed. Except the branches on the large tree in the Hanes’ backyard seem to have gotten taller. I swear it had been a lot simpler to climb this thing back then.
Whatever.
I brace myself and jump, right hand finding purchase in an old notch I’d carved, while the rest of my body followed suit. Itisn’t easy work to start. Thing is fucking massive and old, but I only need to reach the first set of branches and then it’ll be smooth sailing. The tree holds remnants of my earlier climbs, so it shouldn’t be that—
Fuck.
A chunk of bark rips loose under my grip, and I lose all footing.
My back slams on the hard dirt, air whooshing from my lungs at the impact. My brain rattles and ears ring, setting the world before me in a dizzy haze.
Mother fucking fuck.
Stupid fucking tree.
I rip off my balaclava, the one I use when playing online as Phantom, to get more air into my lungs.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my black cargo pants. I fish it out, accepting the call with a gruff, “What?”
Pure maniacal laughter filters through the speaker.
I let out a deep breath through my nose and push up on my elbows slowly.
