Page 49 of Withered

He gives me his infamous smirk and says, “You’ll see.”

“Okay. Are we going somewhere?” I ask him, trying to dig deeper into his idea of fun.

“You’ll see.” He smirks again.

“Jesus, Henderson. Will you at least tell me something?” I ask him, getting annoyed.

“Look, I’m not going to give away anything. What’s the fun in that? Just know that I’ll pick you up at eleven a.m. tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I say, and before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Is this a date?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” I try to divert the topic.

“I just told you I’m afuck and leavekind of guy.” He finishes it off with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. “So, you mean, you’re taking me out so you can fuck me, then leave?”

His eyes widen, and so do mine. I can’t believe I said that word. I have nothing against cursing; I just don’t like it.

“I am rubbing off on you.” He chuckles.

My gaze lands on the clock; it’s almost 3 a.m., and I frantically get up from the bed.

Jake asks, “What happened?”

I point at the clock and say, “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“Wait, I thought you were staying?” He asks, eyebrows drawn together.

“I was, but now you’ve told me we’re going out tomorrow, so I’m heading back.” He relaxes and nods in approval.

“So, tomorrow at 11?” He asks me

I smile and say, “Tomorrow at 11.”

He smiles, showing his dimple, and says, “I’ll walk you home.”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when he says that. No boy has ever said that to me.

“You do know I live right next door, right?” I state the obvious.

He chuckles. “This is coming from you? Last time when you were high, you said that your house was so far.”

“I did?” I point at myself.

“You sure did.” He laughs.

This is the first time I’ve heard his laugh, and it’s so damn addicting.

When he notices me watching him, he stops and clears his throat. “Let’s go.”

He grabs my wrist and drags me downstairs with him. Closing the door, we walk to my house. The hold he has on my hand is distracting me. Sparks of heat start flowing again, rushing all over my body at a rapid pace.

The streets are empty, with just the two of us walking. If someone happens to pass by, they are in for a treat. Jake was shirtless, and I was in my nightclothes.

When we get to the door, he slowly lets go of my hand, and I face him, saying, “Good night, Jake.”

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