Page 38 of Fright Night
If only a million more blocks were between the park and her—soon to beour—place but too soon, we arrive. She unlocks the door but leaves it open, and taking that as an invite, I trail her inside.
She heads straight down the hall and into the bathroom, while I continue to her room, positioning myself by the doorway to wait.
Oakley’s silence is unnerving. Probably the only time I’ve felt something close to the kind of fear I’ve enjoyed pulling from her.
She’s deep in her head, but hasn’t pushed me away, yet I still can’t be certain how she’ll react shortly.
A moment later, she enters the room holding the tattered costume, and since her panties are in my pocket, the knowledge she’s naked under my hoodie makes me want to bend her over the bed to do it all again.
She barely spares me a glance before sliding into bed and pulling the blanket up to her hips. Silence will only get her so far tonight, so I cross the room to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She watches me warily before sighing and crooking an elbow beneath her head. “All those times you claimed not being mad about me lying to the cops, it was because of this?”
“Yeah.” I cough, clearing my throat. “Some time in between our old games, I fell for you. Being kept away from you for years killed me, Oakley.” Hand resting beside hers, I’m unable to help myself and hook my pinkie around hers. “Especially when learning Dad’s basically turned you into something for his own needs.”
She winces. “Why do you care so much?”
“Because it’s not fair. Why do you let him?”
“He’s my stepdad.”
I scoff. “He’s my bio dad and yet I don’t let him do shit like that. Try again.”
“Tell me about what your time away was like.”
She’s trying to divert the attention to my life, to distract me, but her curiosity is something I’m finding difficult to ignore. It’s…unexpected. No one cares enough to ask about me.
With my hand on hers, I readjust my legs to get more comfortable while keeping my shoes off her bed. She watches the awkwardness only to sigh, release my hand, and inch farther away.
“Lie down with me.”
Not waiting to be told twice, I strip my shoes and slide in beside her, staying on top of the comforter. Once upon a time, I dreamed of coming into her room and doing exactly this when she was asleep, except our parents would have killed me and incorrectly assumed something more was happening between us. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted that very “more,” but also really craved this. Peace and quiet, sleeping beside her.
Sherepresents peace and quiet. She represents the safety not discovered during my childhood, but found in her arms.
I position one arm behind my head to prop myself up but grab her hand with my other, re-hooking my pinkie around hers. Something inside my chest immediately unlocks and eases with how simple and content it feels to hold her like this.
“As you know, the courts charged me with community service to the province, and we were barely out of the courthouse when Dad declared in that way of his that it’d be happening away from here. He didn’t give me any option. We came home long enough for me to pack a bag of whatever I could grab in the ten minutes.”
She wasn’t home at the time, which gutted me. The last time seeing her was that morning at breakfast, before the trial. Sherefused to look my way, but I certainly looked at her, knowing deep down I’d have to memorize her. Freeze it in time and take it with me. That moment, coupled with the photo of us from our parents’ wedding, is what made it possible not to return before my service hours were up.
She was eating cereal, her hair bound up in a messy bun and without makeup caked to her face. The sun was hitting the side of her face that made her look like something too good for this world. She seemed so natural, I loved her for it. It was the real Oakley and not the fake one her mother was slowly shaping her into being. She was scrolling on her phone which I wanted to break so her attention would be mine.
Oakley squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present. “He drove me a few hours from here, set me up in an apartment, a new bank account, and told me to stay away. I had an officer from the local force in charge of ensuring my hours were being completed. Dad drove off that day with barely a goodbye, leaving me to my own devices. I was angry—pissed—but not at you, Trickster. Despite everything, thinking about you got me through because it’d only be a matter of time until seeing you again. Dad stole my cell and although I bought a new one and had your number memorized, I didn’t reach out because there was no way I could talk to you without telling you everything. And it wasn’t the time for that. I asked Blaze and Cody to stalk you occasionally and I clung to those updates like crazy; you have no fuckin’ idea. My apartment was small and cold, but fine, I guess. Empty. I used Dad’s money to buy furniture more expensive than required, more as a fuck you than anything else. The officer in charge of me was nice at least. Most of my service was spent cleaning up the highways with a crew, and sometimes at the local library. Since I wasn’t a violent offender, I was considered safe in society, which helped open a lot of doors to complete my hours. A local farm gave me a job where I workedfor extra cash on the side, since Dad refused to top me up. Life involved a lot of work, which is pretty much it.”
“I’m sorry.” She tightens her hand around mine. “You claim you’re not mad, but truly, Knox, Iamsorry. If only I did more.”
“Don’t be sorry. It happened. Looking back now, I could laugh at the whole thing.” I roll over, facing her directly, needing to move away from talking about myself while getting everything about her. Cody and Blaze could only learn so much without injecting themselves into her life—which I strictly forbade. “Your turn. Catch me up.”
“Didn’t you just say you had your friends stalk me?”
“It’s not the same. Tell me everything.”
She smiles faintly. “There isn’t much to tell. A few days after you left, I realized how done I was with Julian. Don’t know why we were even together.”
Neither do I.
“After graduation, your dad mentioned this house, and knowing I wanted to go into event planning, got me set up with an interview at City Hall.” Her mouth twists. “I walked into the interview aware it was a formality; your dad didn’t hide the fact he wanted a kid to follow in his steps, but…he was nice. Gave me this place, rent free. Did help me get a job Idoenjoy—even if it’s not the business I dreamed of owning. I guess, in a way, especially after fucking you over, I felt indebted to him. Mom would have killed me if I turned down his ‘generous’—to use her words—support. So for the past couple of years, I’ve gone to work, see a few friends occasionally, and them once in a while for mandated meals.”
