Page 36 of Nightmare

I’m lathering myself up and screamingParty in The USAby Miley Cyrus at full volume when Summer’s voice breaks through, “Dude, that song is like ten years old, you’re still on that shit?”

I snort, then rinse off before turning the water off and wrapping myself in a towel. Summer is sitting at the vanity flicking through my extensive lipstick collection and turns to glance at me when I open the glass door of the shower.

“It will never get old.Party in the USAis forever.”

“Hit me withWrecking Ballany day.” She responds without a thought.

I ignore her, because it’s absurd to say Wrecking Ball is better than Party in the USA, and I don’t feel like having this argument again.

I make my way to the closet to get dressed and realize I’m not actually sure what the plan is for today, so I yell for Summer to join me while I stare at the clothes I have hanging up.

She falls to the floor and sits criss-cross-apple-sauce, “So, what’re we doing today?”

She purses her lips, picking at a cuticle, “Party at Devon’s tonight, I figure we can chill all day, get ready and be there by like ten?”

Sweatpants it is.

I pull some panties on and throw a pair of sweats over them and pair it with a plain tank top. No bra. Never a bra for chilling, I need comfort more than I need support.

“Is Devon a boy or a girl?” I ask after a moment.

Summer chuckles, “A girl.”

I scrunch up my face, and she rolls her eyes at me before standing up and heading back to our bedroom.

Girls aren’t really my thing.

I’ve never really been good at making friends. Summer is the exception. And she knows I’m not good at girl shit. I’m more of a ‘hang out and shoot the shit’ girl, rather than a ‘bond over unicorns and sparkles’ girl.

I get along better with dudes, and it isn’t because of my superior ass and titties, it’s because they’reeasy.They typically give less of a shit about things than I do, plus it’s easier to use ‘em and lose ‘em.

Girls get attached and clingy, they want to gossip about waxing techniques and shit.

Hard pass.

Summer and I spend the day binging The Vampire Diaries, eating garbage and arguing about who Elenareallyshould have ended up with – she says Stefan, whereas I’m Team Damon forever.

“Look at Stefan’s bone structure! He’s a chiseled fuckinggod!” Summer is standing on top of the sofa screeching at me like a goddamn banshee, because I announced that Damon was way better for Elena.

“Not everything is about bone structure, Summer.” I deadpan with a roll of my eyes.

Her eyes go wide, “Yes, it is! What the fuck!”

I push her over falling on top of her laughing, until we’re both gasping for air and trying to calm our laughter, when the doorbell rings.

We both immediately fall silent, and she presses pause on the remote like a true friend when I get up and head for the intercom.

“Knight residence, Olivia speaking.”

A husky voice comes through the speaker box that makes my stomach drop from my abdomen straight to my ass, “I thought your last name was Jade?”

I press the button again, “Stalking me again?”

Travis’s laugh comes through the box before his voice does again, “Let me up.”

I roll my eyes and press the button to unlock the elevator for him, then I wait.

About five seconds, which feels like three and a half years, goes by and the metallic doors are sliding open and revealing his gorgeous, tanned face. Now, talk about chiseled. Stefan Salvatore hasnothingon Travis Monroe.

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