Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I take it around the whole room, meticulously getting every corner and under Sevan’s bed.
When I finally cut the power, he’s watching me with his hands clasped on his lap.
“Never seen someone angrily vacuum before.”
I pull in a breath and release my grip from the vacuum handle. “It’s fine.”
“Clearly.”
Sevan isn’t buying my bullshit.
“Callum doesn’t deserve the air I’ll waste even saying his name. He’s still taking the breakup poorly, as you can probably tell by the shit-fit comments he still leaves on my pictures. He insults me, but then when he gets drunk he texts me late at night saying he still loves me and wants me back.”
“I want to crack his skull. When my legs are healed, I might do it.”
I know that if Sevan ever tried to fight Callum, Callum would be obliterated.
But if Callum actually did get to him while he’s injured…
I’d rather not have to think about that.
“Can we talk about anything else other than him?”
“Gladly. My room looks good, by the way,” he says as I put the vacuum away. “Thanks for pitying me enough to do all of this.”
“Not pity. You deserve it. Don’t any of your Daggers brothers give a fuck?”
Sevan’s expression is hard to read. “They’re all busy. Busy, busy, busy, all the time, and I’m fucking stuck in here reading Auto Repair for Dummies for the fiftieth time.”
“When your legs heal, you’re going to be able to repair a goddamn semi truck.”
He snorts. “I’ll be able to take care of my own car, at least. Feels like I’ll never be able to drive again.”
“Good shit.”
The only thing Sevan loves more than hockey is classic cars. He’s put so much love into his black first generation Mustang that it runs like it’s brand new.
“Speaking of which,” Sevan says, nodding toward his desk. “The keys are in the basket over there. Can you take her out for a drive? It’s not good to let a car sit unused, and it makes me twitchy to see her parked for so long.”
I head over to grab the keys and push them into my pocket. “Got it.”
When I glance out the window nearby, I pause.
Red and blue flashing lights are moving down the street.
Weird.
Wait.
Hold the fuck up.
It’s not just a cop car driving by. It’s a cop car pulling up in front of Onyx House.
“What’s up?” Sevan asks.
“Police just arrived in front of Onyx House.”
“Shit.”
“It’s probably nothing. Maybe a noise complaint.”
“Onyx had some brutal shit going on a month ago, though,” Sevan says, frowning. “People were attacked. Probably nothing, but—”
“I’m going to head over. I’ll be back afterward, ok?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I have pizza coming and a hot date with a video game. Let me know what’s up over at Onyx, though.”
I squeeze his shoulder before I head out. I rush down the stairs in the Double Daggers house and once I’m out the front door, I see a second police car pulling up outside Onyx.
The snowfall picks up by the time I’m walking over, and the little flurries are illuminated by the red and blue light.
At the front door, two officers are talking with Weston, Roman, and Oliver.
“It was just a prank,” Oliver is saying. “I’m so sorry. I, uh… I wasted your time.”
I haven’t heard Ollie act that way since high school.
Fumbling his words awkwardly, clearly trying to apologize for his existence to the police officers.
When Ollie sees me approaching, he looks at me like he wants to crawl into a hole in the ground. I walk over to his side, standing close to him.
I piece together parts of the story from what the guys describe to the police.
Ollie found something on the front doorstep that freaked him out, and it turned out to be a false alarm.
The officers stay for a couple more minutes taking a couple of notes and confirming that Oliver’s okay, but they soon leave as quickly as they came.
After they’re gone, I ignore the other guys and turn to Oliver.
“Tell me everything. Now,” I ask Oliver.
“I was being a paranoid freak. That’s what happened.”
“No, you did the right thing, Ollie,” Weston tells him. “Can’t be too safe after the attacks earlier in the semester.”
“What happened? Exactly?”
“Nothing. Literally nothing. After the attacks last month I was afraid, but it turns out it’s just a plastic fucking skeleton—”
“Hey. You’re okay,” I tell him, moving closer and putting my arm around his shoulders.
It’s a good way to get physical with Oliver in front of Weston and Roman, hopefully laying the groundwork for a believable dating story.
But it was also pure instinct to put my arm around him.
He seems so ashamed, even though he has no reason to be. His skin is also freezing, and he’s only wearing a short-sleeve grey T-shirt out in the snow.
“Someone put a plastic skeleton on the front doorstep,” Roman explains. “It’s a leftover Halloween decoration, nothing more.”