Page 3 of Watching You
Blair Everett walked into my house tonight and lit a fuse I didn’t even know was there.
And I’m going to follow the burn until there’s nothing left in her but me.
Two
Blair
The dim light in Kinsley’s room casts long shadows, creating a cocoon of warmth that I desperately wish to sink into, but beneath the surface, my thoughts are anything but calm.
My hands still burn from Kane’s chest. I scrubbed them twice in Kinsley’s bathroom sink, thirty seconds each time, humming the same four bars under my breath, but the heat won’t leave. Like he branded me just by touching me.
I never would’ve used his bathroom if I’d known he was home. If I’d known he’d be standing there, shirtless, looking at me like I was something he wanted to ruin.
Kinsley flops onto the bed beside me, a whirlwind of glitter and chaos. “What’s up with you?” she asks, her voice cutting through the silence.
I smooth the blanket over my lap, making sure the edge lines up perfectly with the seam of the mattress before I answer. “Huh? Nothing, just tired, I guess.”
She stretches like a cat, her excitement buzzing through the room. “Tomorrow starts the next chapter of our lives, Blair!”
I nod, even though my cheeks feel impossibly warm. Flashes of that encounter replay in my mind: his green eyes, the way he pressed me against the wall, the heat radiating from his skin. He’s not small.Anywhere.
And then it hits me again, like a punch to the gut.
Anger.
I’ve had a stupid crush on Kane Fischer since I was twelve. He never acknowledged me, just Kinsley’s weird little friend with braces and OCD. The girl who counted her steps to the dinner table. Who had to tap the banister three times before going upstairs. Who lined her pencils in perfect order before she could start her homework.
He didn’t even recognize me.
Not until I was pretty enough to matter.
Not until I became someone he could want.
He dared to flirt with me in his own house. Like I’m just another girl in a tight shirt. Like he didn’t spend years ignoring me while I watched him from the sidelines, wishing he’d look my way.
I pull the blanket tighter, smoothing it again when the fold isn’t perfect. Trying to shield myself from the wildfire he lit with one look.
“I’m setting my alarm for eight AM so we can get on the road early. Sound good?” Kinsley asks, flipping off the light.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice swallowed by the dark.
I squeeze my eyes shut and start counting backward from one hundred—my go-to when my thoughts spiral. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. But Kane’s voice cuts through the numbers, low and possessive.What’s your name, sunflower?
I shift in the bed, listening to Kinsley’s breathing settle beside me. The ache between my thighs is a cruel reminder that my body betrayed me. That I melted into him like I was made for it.
I hate that I reacted.
I hate that I wanted more.
I start the count again. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. But his eyes keep bleeding through the cracks. Dark green. Hungry. Haunting.
And I hate that I wish he would look at me like that again.
I wake to Kinsley arguing with someone right outside her door.
“What the hell, Kane?” she snaps. “Blair isn’t riding with you. She’s already got her stuff packed in my car.”
“She doesn’t have to move her stuff, but I have more room in my truck. Your tiny two-seater Audi TT isn’t built for long road trips. Mine’s more comfortable.” His voice is calm, but there’s that undercurrent, smooth, coaxing, dangerous. The kind of tone that’s probably talked more than a few girls out of their clothes.Whythe hell would he want me to ride with him?The thought alone knots my stomach with an unsettling mix of excitement and dread.
