Page 35 of Sweet Anarchy

I laugh, clicking my seatbelt on. "Should I be worried?"

"I told you," he starts, flicking over the engine. "We're going to fix that worry."

Shaking my head, I cross my legs and sit back, watching as he peels out of the driveway and heads down the road. I gaze out at the passing houses and cars, bopping my head to the soft music coming through the speaker.

When we take the road that heads out of town, I realize where we're heading.

"Ohh… you cheeky devil," I tease.

Zayn grins at me from the driver's seat, reaching over to squeeze my thigh with his hand. "It's been awhile."

The Jeep veers off the main road onto the dirt path, dodging trees and shrubs until the cabin comes into view. We park at the bottom of the steps and I let myself out of the car, looking around.

"It's exactly as I remember," I state, climbing the stairs.

Zayn hits the lock button on the key fob before heading to the front door. "There's a few changes inside."

He opens the door to let us in, motioning me to walk in first. I step inside the cooled cabin, noticing all the sheets have gone. It's clean – all the dust gone.

New furniture decks out the room, including a new double chaise which serves as a bed. There's also a tv set up and a mini-fridge in the corner, filled with snacks and drinks.

"Been busy, I see," I remark, jumping on the chaise.

"I needed to revamp our little love shack. It was getting a bit bare."

I lay down on the chaise, groaning. "It's so soft. Where did you get the money for all this stuff?"

"The three of us have trust funds set up from Mom's inheritance. Well, I invested my money and live off the interest. No idea what Asher and Blake do with theirs."

I did think it was weird that none of them work. I just assumed Gareth was full of money and they were rich babies who didn't need to. It's always a bit sombre when money comes from the death of a loved one.

Zayn sits on the chaise next to me, putting the backpack in his lap. I lean over as he unzips it, trying to peek inside.

"What did you bring?"

He waves his finger at me in a "no" motion, digging into the bag. I roll my eyes, smiling. Fucking typical of him.

I expect him to pull out candles or a vibrator… something sexual. But instead he pulls out… a stopwatch?

"Jesus, I haven't seen an old fashion stopwatch in years," I say. "Don't you just use your phone like a normal person?"

He grins. "Of course I do. But my phone isn't coming with me."

My brows furrow in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"We're going to play a game."

Oh, great. This again.

He looks at me, laughing. "Don't you start. You're the one that started the games, Rylee. If you can't win or keep up, just say so."

I growl under my breath. "I'm not opting out. I'll kick your ass."

"You can try," he murmurs, closing the backpack up again and putting it on his back. "How's your legs?"

"My… legs?" I ask.

Zayn stands up, holding his hands out for me. "Yeah. Are you a runner?"

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