Page 15 of Fright Night
“That’s it? You told them I was the dealer because it was a game between us?”
When the police raided the party, a cop stopped the three of us before we could get away. A quick check of pockets and Knox was forced to reveal the weed he had on him. Julian immediately claimed Knox was trying to deal it to us. Knox obviously countered that, reminding him who his father is and why arresting the mayor’s son wouldn’t be smart. The cop asked me if Knox was indeed in possession of the drugs…and I nodded because I was still so annoyed at him for a trick he played the day prior. Figured he made my day hell, I should do the same to him and not get my boyfriend in trouble.
The moment Knox was cuffed and Julian stared on, smug, his arm around my waist, I knew I messed-up and should have used the situation to make Julian go away. Something already in the plans since dating him no longer held my interest.
Julian and I lasted about three days past that night.
If only he accepted the split. All this time later, and he’s still a thorn in my side.
Knox rubs a hand through his hair and curses before heading back down the hall. I follow.
“You got me the day before,” I implore, begging him to understand that my side was foolish but craving his forgiveness. “Remember when you added oil to my shampoo? It took the whole day of constant scrubbing to get out. You had the drugs in hand, so I thought it’d be a funny way to pay you back…but it wasn’t. As soon as you were loaded into the cruiser, I tried to stop them from taking you. I told your dad what actually happened, but he didn’t care. I tried messaging you, only to learn he took your phone.”
“He didn’t want us talking.”
“Oh.”
Back in the living room, he scans the place. The living room that’s connected to the kitchen by an arched opening, and the many Halloween decorations hanging. Fake webs along the archway, signs on the walls, glittery pumpkins in small patches of three in the room’s corners. Even my TV stand has a mixture of small decorative figurines.
Beneath the temporary holiday décor, it’smy homehe’s studying. The furniture. The pictures of Mom and me on the side table. The movies and game console on the TV stand. The black area carpet bought only a few weeks ago.
The house that we should be roommates in.
Then there’s the more personal effects. The crossword puzzle book on the coffee table. A sweater draped on the back of thecouch, beside the blanket that’s messily balled up from where it was left two nights ago after the horror movie that ensured bedtime was filled with blood and gore. And—is that a bra?
“Nice place.” His tone is strange. Appreciative. Polite, even.
There’s been small moments between us where his black heart lightens into a shade of grey, and his tone always softens during those instances. While the intense version of him gets my heart racing, something about the gentler side makes me feel safe too.
“You mad?” I ask, returning to the previous topic.
“Not for the reasons you think. Your lie amuses me more than anything.”
His anger would be preferable because an angry Knox means he’ll get his revenge and move on. He’ll leave me alone. If he’s not mad, then he’s unpredictable.
“Okay, well…” Glancing into the kitchen, the time on the stove reminds me I’m about to be late for brunch with our parents if I don’t get going soon. Should I invite him along? Does Henry even know his son is home? “Well, if you’re not mad, it’s good to see you again, but I’m running late for something.”
Instead of walking to the door, he falls back onto the couch, his legs spreading wide as he scans me up and down clinically. “You’re going out like that? You look exhausted. Play hooky with me.”
If looks could kill, he’d be ten feet beneath.
“That’ll be afuck no. Please leave,” I plead, a bit desperate. “Go live your life.”
Never ever would I have imagined Knox’s response.
SEVEN
KNOX
My next wordsare a stone rolling down a mountain, unable to be restrained, crushing and all-consuming, and depending how attuned she is, will answer her every question.
“What if I said you are my life, Oakley?”
She doesn’t react well, instead scowling as she crosses the room, snatches up my mask and coffee and shoves both at me, nearly making a mess. A slim hand wraps around my wrist and starts tugging on it, likely to get me to my feet, but her meager strength isn’t doing a thing to reach her goal.
“I think you’re still on the drugs that once got you into trouble. Leave, Knox,please.”
Would now be the time to mention thatshegot me in trouble, not the drugs? And weed doesn’t have that kind of effect.
