Page 210 of Satan's Spawn
Except he’s my psychotic asshat, and I wouldn’t change him for the world, as long as he promises to keep me in his.
The two of them continue to hurl insults back and forth, and my heart swells, leaving me feeling full for the first time since I stepped foot in Riverside. It also has me wondering what the hell the next nine months have in store for us when so much has changed already.
34
BEX
WINTER(ISH)
Iamnotequipped for this shit.
If I knew we’d be moving to the arctic, I would’ve at least made sure to bring a portable heater with me.
Someone needs to look me in the eye and tell me they actually enjoy weather so cold it blisters your fingers—or else I won’t believe it.
I nearly caught frostbite last week when I dared to walk to Mom and Roman’s without putting freaking gloves on.
Negative eight degrees Fahrenheit.
I don’t even want it that cold in my fucking freezer.
Rubbing my hands down the arms of my pink North Face parka Mom bought me the second the temperature dropped below sixty, I make my way across the parking lot back to the dorms.
Cold weather didn’t stop me from getting myself a matcha latte, and given I no longer have to worry about the Riverside assholes jumping out of bushes, I decided to sneak out before anyone woke up.
I even helped myself to a buttery croissant which was halfway gone before I even got to one of the Starbucks tables.
Crayton is a nocturnal creature, which is why he’s standing by the back door like an irritated bodyguard who’s detail got away from him.
The ground is still covered in white, courtesy of the six inches of snow the city was blessed with two days ago, which makes me grateful for my fancy snow boots.
I’m passing the parked cars in the lot when a very unfamiliar one catches my eye. It’s black, muscular, and the tints are completely blacked out.
My face squishes to one side, feeling like I’ve seen this car before, especially since it stands out like a sore thumb against the lines of fancy Mercedes and BMW’s.
Unable to put my finger on it, I brush the thought off as another unnecessary prize for some privileged teenager.
“You took too long,” Crayton grumbles when I reach him, still annoyed I wouldn’t allow him to tail along like a brooding escort.
I reach up on my tippy toes to kiss him.
“I’m a big girl, Crayton, I can manage a walk up the block to drink a coffee.”
Another onslaught of snuffles follow me when the door to the gymnasium closes behind us.
It’s Saturday, and I decided to stay back at the school instead of visiting Mom and Roman as usual, needing time to catch up on some midterm reading, since Crayton has been taking up most of our study sessions with studying our bodies instead.
He didn’t lie when he said we’d be spending every night wrapped up in each other, and now that he’s managed to become comfortable with sex and me, he’s wanting to have it every time we’re alone.
And when we’re not, he’s usually throwing out whichever person is keeping us from being naked.
Not that I’m complaining, but I really need to nail these exams if I’m going to keep up my GPA.
When we reach the girl’s common room, there’s a fire going, and a few students huddled around it eating breakfast and watching “Real Housewives of New Jersey.”
Go figure.
Alexis is in the middle of them, along with her posse, and the glower she’s shooting at me is almost as hot as the flames dancing next to her. I ignore it, knowing it’s coming from a place of pure jealousy.
