Page 11 of Dark Things
My bike is covered in camouflage netting to conceal it from the road and anyone who might walk the edge of the property. I pull it off, starting up the bike before I make my exit to the back road.
It didn’t take long for me to find where Colter lives. Some light hacking into Skyton’s servers, and I got the address and his cell number pretty quickly. Seems that he’s living our childhood dream with Staff and Brooks. Nice little house on the edge of campus. A place I could have seen us all in before my life imploded.
I park up the road in a crop of trees, killing the engine and dismounting. One thing I will say aboutthis town, the lack of street lights is perfect for sneaking around.
The house is dark, not a light on inside, but I’m still cautious. There’s a few cars in the driveway. A late model Ford F150, Audi S4, and a BMW X3 which is definitely Colter’s. He always talked about BMW or Mercedes as his first car.
Colter’s family is as rich as they come, almost as rich as mine was, but Staff and Brooks—they come from new money. Or should I say, comfortable money. They didn’t go to the same prestigious prep school as Colter and I did, but every year for the summer since we were twelve, we were all shipped to the same camp in Connecticut. That’s where Colter and I met the other half of our quadruple. At one time, I thought we’d all end up together, but that dream was a lie. The first chance they got, they threw me away like I didn’t matter.
There doesn’t seem to be any cameras in the back of the house, so I creep up the deck, making sure to listen for anything inside. All I can hear are the crickets and those damn peeper frogs that have kept me up the last two nights.
What are the chances that these idiots didn’t lock the door?
My hand rests on the knob and I give it a small turn. Locked. I pull out my kit from one of the side pockets and get to work sliding the pins over until I hear a click.
Opening it up just enough to slip in, I take in my surroundings. Sweatshirts are folded over the back of the couch, dishes in the sink, and the scent of Brooks’ cologne hangs in the air. My heart clenches for a moment, but I lock it down. Emotions have no place here.
I move closer to the stairs and listen for signs of movement, but the only thing I hear is my own breathing and the whooshing sound of the air conditioner turning on. It might be early September, but the air is heavy with humidity.
Once I have the layout of the first floor, I start to place my cameras around. Two in the living room nestled in a bookcase and the entertainment center, a few in the kitchen, and finally one in the hallway leading to the stairs. As soon as I’m finished I make my way upstairs. According to the blueprints I pulled from the Saratoga Springs building department, this house has four bedrooms with an attic space. I doubt any of the boys would make the attic their bedroom, but I’m going to put cameras up there anyway.
I dig around in my pockets and start to stick the micro cameras in various places, attached to the light fixture in the hall and then above the painting that’s at the other end. I also pull out one and hang it on thebathroom light next to the sink. It won’t show the toilet or shower, but it will give a nice view if I need to know where they are in the house.
The first door across from the bathroom has a low light peeking through the frame. Staff’s room. He needed a nightlight when we were younger and it seems like nothing’s changed. He’ll be the easiest to wake up, so I continue on down the hall to the next door.
Pressing my ear to the wood to make sure whoever is behind the door hasn’t awoken, I slowly turn the knob. There’s a lump in the bed, a huge one, as I make my way over to the TV stand next to the windows. I place my camera in a crevice in the corner, and turn toward the sleeping form.
He looks peaceful, exactly as he did when we were last together, except now he’s in a man’s body. No longer the gangly teenager, Brooks Templeton is stacked. He’s laying on his side, the sheet pooled around his waist and all those muscles and tattoos on display. I lean closer and take in his shoulder. Tattooed there is a bell with three roses surrounding it.
The bell is cracked, and the roses are black.
My heart swells and then crashes like a wave against the shore. He couldn’t have gotten that for us. They left me, and all the hopes we had for the future died the day they left me to rot in juvie.
“I think we should design our own tattoos, ones that will represent each of us,” Brooks says, as we sit on the terrace outside of my living room. The cityscape looms in the distance, but my eyes are glued on the notebook Brooks has across his lap.
“You mean like getting matching ones?” I ask, worrying my lip.
“Not necessarily. I just think we could each get one that’s a little different, but still shows how much we mean to each other. Look, this is the one I thought of for me.”
I watch him flip the pages until he comes to a design that has a bell with roses. I laugh and point to the bell. “Is that supposed to be me?”
His cheeks turn a very cute shade of pink as he nods his head. “Yeah, well you’re my Belle. And since you’re the center of our world, I figured it would be fitting for us to be the roses around you.”
I inhale just a bit, coming back from the memory. His spicy cologne invades my senses, and my stomach twists in knots. I watch him for a second more, following the lines of his face, seeing how different he looks but also the same. His dark hair is tousled with sleep and his perfect lips are pulled up in a half-smile, like he’s dreaming of something good.
I want nothing more than to ruin it for him. It’s unfair that he doesn’t wake up screaming from night terrors like I do. I want to see him suffer, but the other part of me remembers the way we fit together. Twin flames that never went out. It fucking hurts.
I leave the way I came, fist clenched at my side. I knew this would be difficult, but seeing him up close crushes a little something inside of me.
The last room has to be Colter’s. My heart ratespeeds up, and I hesitate for just a second. Even though they all ruined me, Colt did the worst. He was my first friend since we were seven when his parents came to our house for a business dinner. He was my lighthouse in the storm. The one person who grounded me when I felt like I could drift away. He saw what was done to me, and still he chose not to speak up.
I clench my jaw before opening the door. Fuck him and fuck all these stupid feelings that keep popping up. I’ve learned to lock down any emotions, and yet here I am forgetting all my training because my past decided to smack me upside the head.
Colt’s lying on his back, the blankets thrown off the bed, and I’m granted a full view of just how much he’s grown up.
My heartbeat slams in my chest, and a trickle of sweat runs down my back. I hesitate just enough to take him all in. His chest is more chiseled and his blonde hair is messy atop his head. His features are pinched and part of me is glad he’s not resting well. His hands are stretched out to the side, rubbing the sheets, like he’s looking for something, and I know if I don’t leave now I’ll do something I regret, like stab him in the chest with the knife I have strapped to my waist.
I place the last camera before leaving the way I came. I’ll set up the attic and Staff’s bedroom when they’re all at football practice. The house is on the wayto the track, so tomorrow when I go to warm-up Black Caviar I’ll stop by.
