Page 8 of The Psychopaths

I know he’s watching me—every glance, every stolen look is flames licking against my skin. He keeps measuring the distance between us, as he’s done since that night two years ago, always so in control.

Since then, I’ve lain awake so many nights, wondering what it might look like if he finally snapped and gave in to what we both wanted.

He can keep denying me, but I know it. I can feel it.

He’s a liar, and sometimes I tell myself I hate him to make the heartache hurt a little less.It’s a lie.I know hating him would make all of this easier, but even two years later, after everything he said, I’m still in love with him. Still tired of pretending I don’t see what lives behind his scowl, the pulse in his jaw, or the way his stare lingers a second too long.

He wants me, and hehatesthat he wants me.

That doesn’t make the heat in his gaze any less visceral.

My age is no longer an excuse. I’m finally eighteen, and still… I know it won’t be enough to change his mind.

My best friend Emery told me it was time to let my crush go. That I need to move on. I convinced myself that if I kissed another boy and didn’t think about him, then I would move on. As the minutes tick by, Aries’s gaze never wavers. It grates to the point of madness. I want to hurt him like he’s hurting me. Like he crushed me.

Adam, the son of one of my mother’s friends, approaches me. He’s cute in a frat boy kind of way. Maybe a kiss or two with him, why not?

“Want to get away for a little bit?” he whispers, leaning into my side.

I blink, and it takes me a moment to realize what exactly he means byget away.

This is my chance. Peering over my shoulder, I let my gaze drift over the party—tablecloths fluttering in the breeze, champagne glasses catching the twinkling light, conversations floating like perfume. Everyone is lost in conversation or preoccupied in some way. No one would notice if I disappeared for a few minutes.

No one except…him.

He is standing at the edge of the terrace, his drink still untouched in his hand, and his body language stiff and unmoving. He’s likely only counting the minutes until he can leave. Even from across the lawn, I feel the heat of his stare, burning into my flesh. He won’t stop me. Not when it would ruin his careful, bored facade. Hecan’t.And that moment of defiance, that chance to make him see me, see what I can do… I can’t let it slip through my fingers.

This time, I’m in control.

If he’s not going to come for me—if he’s not going totouchme—then why the hell shouldn’t I let someone else try?

I turn back to Adam with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Taking my hand into his, he guides me to the pool house like he has been there a hundred times before. The pool house is quiet, at least. The golden light from the outside sconces filters through the blinds, slicing across the floor in long, uneven strips, catching dust in the air and casting halos where there should’ve been shadows. It should feel romantic.Dreamy.

A perfect escape from the noise outside. But my skin crawls. Something about the way Adam shuts the door makes the air feel heavier. His smile shifts, slow and sure, the kind of smile reeking of confidence handed down by bloodlines and entitlement.

“This place is insane,” he says, stepping closer, his gaze dragging over every inch of me. “Private. The perfect escape.”

I give a strained smile. “It’s just a pool house.”

My stomach churns with the gleam I catch sight of in his eyes.What am I doing?Maybe I didn’t think this through enough. I want to hurt Aries, but not at the expense of hurting myself.

Adam takes my silence for acceptance and invades my space. His finger brushes a curl from my cheek, then slides downmy arm, his hand circling my waist—bold, uninvited. But not unpleasant.Okay. I can do this...

I wanted to see if kissing someone else, if letting someone else touch me, would change my mind about Aries, but his touch feels wrong. I’m about to tell him we should go back to the party when he kisses me.

Wet. Rushed. All teeth and tongue.

His greedy hands grip my hips like he owns them, owns me, pulling me flush against his body, leaving me no escape.

This is wrong.

He tastes like champagne, and the heavy scent of his cologne threatens to choke me.And he’s not Aries.

The man haunting my thoughts, whose touch I ache for in the quiet, shameful moments behind locked doors. I realize then that no matter what I do, he’ll always be in the back of my mind. My body constantly yearns for something I can’t have.

When Adam’s hand slides up the back of my thigh and under my dress, I recoil instinctively. Pushing him away, I gasp. “Slow down.”

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