Page 11 of Fright Night
Protective much.
He didn’t reply to that comment.
Considering he paid me no attention outside of the pranks, his protectiveness is interesting. Why would he care what one of his friends thought about me?
I put the phone back on the charger and recline onto my pillow, mind drifting to a strange instance where he did show another side of himself. However, it wasn’t the first time, nor was it the last.
A cardboard takeout carton is thumped in front of me, breaking my attention from my phone. Expecting Julian, I’m convinced my eyes are deceiving me when it’s my stepbrother instead.
“Eat.” Knox nods towards the box. “It’s fries.”
My stomach grumbles at the thought, trying to recount when my last snack was. A banana at breakfast, because when reaching for a muffin, Mom stopped me with a glare. I miss food—realfood. Ever since Mom married Henry, she’s gotten it into her head that the less I weigh, the better. After months ofbarely eating anything with excessive sugar or fats, my body has convinced itself it doesn’t miss it.
Except it does. And the smell of these fries are making my stomach twist painfully.
“Eat,” he demands again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re too skinny. You look like you’re about to pass out at any moment.”
Fingering the edge of the box but not opening it yet, I peer up at him. “You care? If I do, I’m out of your hair.”
“Nah, I quite like you in my hair, little sister. Wouldn’t know what to do without you there.”
His words bring me back to last weekend, when he and his father got into it, and Knox retreated to his room with a cut on his cheek. Aware I was likely setting myself up for failure, I went in with a damp cloth to clean the wound, and surprisingly, he never pushed me away.
Instead, his hand wrapped my wrist and he tugged me closer. Close enough to see the different shades of brown in his eyes when he mockingly said, “Wouldn’t know what to do without your help.”
Even now, he continues mocking me, but in a secretive manner that only we know the meaning behind.
When he walks away to the other side of the courtyard to sit with his friends, he immediately looks my way, and doesn’t glance away until I take my first bite of a fry.
The next time I wake, it’s to my annoying alarm. Apparently recalling the past exhausted me enough to pass out for the remaining three hours of the night, but it’s not enough to get me through today.
Hopefully no one at work needs anything because I’m about to be utterly useless.
Groaning, I unwillingly get out of bed to use the bathroom before continuing to reluctantly complete my morning routine. A shower might be necessary, and as I’m reaching for the shower’s tap, the sound of a door shutting has me jerking upright.
Not again.
Rushing to the living room, I’m half convinced this all is in my head. That I’m so fucking tired, I’m inventing noises.
If only that was the case. It’d be the better option than what’s there.
Than the person seated on my couch, black jean clad legs spread invitingly, with an arm stretched across the back like he owns the damn thing. Like him being here is normal. His free hand lightly grips a red takeout coffee cup balancing on his knee, while a second rests on the table in front of him.
Memories, feelings, and regrets crash into me.
It’s been two years, four months, and three days—not that I’m counting—since last seeing him in person. Since the police hauled him away in handcuffs and he was glaring at me through the car’s back window, his mouth forming words no one else noticed, but I certainly did. My brain stuck his deep voice to them, so it was like he was speaking directly to me.
You’ll pay for this.
My heart stutters to a stop at the sight of him, aged from eighteen to twenty in the years’ absence, but just as deliciously hot as he was back then. More, to be honest.
Ash blond hair conceals eyes as dark as his soul and as daunting as the sinful words his mouth would so often form. It’s the same mouth that kicks up on one side before sipping from his cup, his gaze never leaving mine. Muscles flex as he rests thecup onto the table in front of him to lean back and kick an ankle over the opposite knee.
Resting on the couch beside him is the same mask he wore in the video.
“Long time no see, Trickster. Miss me?”
FIVE
