Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
It couldn’t be one of the girls. If they were home, they’d have called out like they always did. My mind raced, adrenaline slamming through me like a current. There was nowhere to hide in this fucking basement. No closets. No deep corners. Two windows: one specifically for a dryer vent and the other sealed from the outside.
I looked around, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. My eyes eventually landed on my Hydrobottle. It was better than nothing. I grabbed it, my knuckles whitening as I held its handle as if it were a bat. Whoever was upstairs now stood between me and the only way out. Slowly, I crept toward the staircase, every footstep silent against the cool floor. The urge to curl up, stay quiet, and hope whoever it was would leave pressed down on me, but I couldn’t stay down there forever.
You can do this. I tried to hype myself up, steadying the trembling that had spread to my fingers. I gripped the Hydrobottle so tightly I could feel the cold metal biting into my palm. As I took another careful step, the floorboard beneath me gave a loud creak. My pulse skyrocketed, eyes going wide.
Shit.
I froze, every muscle locking up. Part of me screamed to run back down the stairs, but I wasn’t a total idiot. That would trap me. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe. Come on, Sanjana. You’ve got this. I took another step, then another, edging upward, my grip tightening. The basement door opened straight into the kitchen, and to the right was the entrance to the garage. If I could make it without being seen, I could slip out through there.
Roxxi’s motorcycle was inside, and the keys were probably still in it. Theoretically, I could take it and go. Realistically, I’d wind up as a Sanjana-shaped skid mark two blocks over. I had no business trying to ride a motorcycle. I would be better off running, praying my Huntsman wasn’t as fast as I was. I reached the doorway at the top of the steps, and when I didn’t see anyone, I wasted no time. I hurried toward the garage.
“What are you doing?”
I spun so fast my hair whipped across my face, a scream tearing out of me before I could stop it, loud enough to set the neighbor’s dog into a frenzy. My Hydrobottle sailed through the air, hitting the floor with a metallic crash. A palm clamped over my mouth, and I was propelled backward into the wall.
“Sassy.”
His voice overpowered all my fear. Relief hit me like a flood. My whole body sagged against him, knees untrustworthy, breath gone.
“It’s me,” he soothed, steady and calm, brushing my hair out of the way. “Just me.”
I nodded quickly, my heart still sprinting. He slowly let his hand fall from my mouth, but the other arm didn’t move. He kept me pinned, like he wasn’t willing to risk me slipping away now that he had me.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” I hissed, fear morphing into anger.
“Ari said you were home doing schoolwork, and I needed to check on you.”
“So you break in?” I snapped, shoving at his chest, and growing more annoyed when he didn’t budge.
An infuriating smirk curled his lips, completely unrepentant. “Didn’t break in. I have a key. Remember?”
Of course, I remembered. That was beside the point. I shut my eyes for a beat, trying to get a grip. My pulse was still hammering, adrenaline fizzing just beneath my skin. His fingers brushed my cheek, featherlight, moving aside more of my hair.
“With the way you froze just now? If I had broken in, if I wasn’t me, you’d be fucked, Sassy.”
The words sent a shiver straight down my spine because he was right. I swallowed hard and forced my eyes up to meet his. “Good thing it was just you then,” I rasped. “Even though you scared the hell out of me. Again.”
He grinned. “Maybe I like you scared,” he murmured, voice dipping to something low and lethal. “I’ve never heard you scream like that before.”
“Because that’s a totally normal thing to say,” I quipped dryly.
“Normal is overrated.”
My tongue flicked out to wet my lips. His eyes tracked it like a predator catching movement. His teasing glint vanished. What replaced it was darker and far less performative. I noticed then that his hair was still damp from a recent shower. The familiar cedar-and-spice scent clung to him, filling my lungs with every breath I tried, and failed, to steady. He was so close we were practically pressed together, his body heat lapping at mine, coaxing a response I fought to have the willpower to ignore. It wasn’t fear sparking beneath my skin anymore.
I didn’t want to move.
But I had to.
I pressed my hand to his chest and slid past him, heart thudding like a drumline. My fingers brushed the edge of his varsity jacket, and even that fleeting contact was enough to leave sparks trailing in its wake. I bent to grab my now dented Hydrobottle off the floor, palms slick against the cold metal.