Page 26 of Riot Rules
This…is asneak.
This is a prowl.
This is someone standing in the hallway, casting their long shadow underneath my bedroom door…
Rap. Rap. Rap.
The knock is quiet—so soft that I can hardly hear it.
Jesus Christ, what thehellis wrong with me? Why is my heart suddenly racing? I’m safe here. I’m surrounded by people. If I scream, ten other girls will come flying out of their rooms in an instant.
“It’s three am,” I hiss at the door. “I’ll talk to you in morning, Pres.” That wasn’t Presley’s knock, though. Wasn’t Mara’s, either. Neither of them is that subtle, and we have our own signature tap besides. I’d know immediately if it was either of them, and it wasn’t.
A heavy quiet pools in my ears as my watch ticks out another handful of seconds. Then: a voice on the other side of the door.
“Don’t make me pick the lock, Mendoza.”
A cold wave of alarm rushes from the soles of my feet upward, whipping around the inside of my head, making the room see-saw. It’shim. Somehow, without any reason to believe it would be, I knew it was the moment I heard that creak. I hurl back the covers and pad to the door, leaning against the wood, as if I’m afraid he might try and boot the damn thing down. “What the fuck are youdoing?” I hiss. “You’re gonna get expelled. You should be halfway down the mountain.”
“Open the door, Carina.”
There’s a warning in his voice. He’ll be perfectly happy to follow through on his threat to pick the lock on my door, and then where will I be? Not only will Dash be in my room anyway, but he’ll also be pissed.
I crack the door, shooting daggers at the looming, shadowy figure hovering on the other side. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the half-light of the corridor, but when my vision corrects itself, I really wish it hadn’t. Dash is dripping wet—I didn’t even know it was raining—and the color of his hair has turned from brilliant ash to burned honey. There are shadows under his eyes, dark and bruise-like. He’s wearing a thin t-shirt which is plastered to his chest, the grey heather color so dark and wet that it almost looks black across his shoulders. The bottoms of his jeans have been cuffed, but they’re still covered in mud and pine needles, which tells me he took the fire road up to the academy from Riot House, and not the main, tarmacked driveway. His jaw works, his eyes stern and piercing as he looks me up and down.
I’m wearing an oversized nightshirt and no goddamn bra. Fantastic. My nipples are peaked beneath the fabric, very, very, visible in the chilly air of the hallway.
“So?” he says, flaring his nostrils.
I laugh under my breath, though the sound is far from happy. “So?So?What the hell are you doing? I was sleeping.”
He smirks, looking down at his filthy sneakers (where the hell are his dress shoes?), head turned to one side, and a bolt of electric energy hits me right in the chest. It leaves me weirdly breathless when I witness the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “No, you weren’t. You were lying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, refusing to touch yourself even though you want to—”.
Cocky English bastard. The nerve of him. “Oh, and I suppose I was gonna finger myself while thinking aboutyou, was I, Lord Lovett?”
His smile fades a fraction, dimming like a light switch being turned, but only for a second. It returns at full force a second later. He props himself against the doorjamb. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re only human.”
I could smack him. I’ve never hit anyone before, but I can imagine how good it would feel to clench my hand, make a fist, and launch it into this smug motherfucker’s defined jawline. Where the hell does he get off thinking this highly of himself? I mean, comeon!“Go home, Dash. Now’s not a good time for a social visit.”
“I’d say now’s a perfect time actually.” I smell alcohol on him. The strong kind. Whiskey, I think. Boys never venture up to the girls’ wing. It’s too easy to get caught, and the consequences are dire; he must be pretty wasted to even consider such rash behavior.
“Why don’t you come back when youhaven’tbeen drinking?” I tell him. “I’m not in the mood to joust with you—”
“I’ve had a really weird fucking day. I drank a little. Sue me.And…here I was, thinking that youwantedto tackle my lance.” He pouts.
I hate that my cheeks flush. “Look. This is cute, but I’m mad at you, remember. You were being—”
“Really fuckingdumb.” He nods, suddenly very sober. “Yeah. About that. I just…” His cheeks puff out, his eyes growing round. He shrugs. “Yeah.” He’s struggling for additional words, which is odd—I’veneverwitnessed Dash at a loss for something to say. He has always fully vetted and prepared what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth, so this…flustered version of him is out of the ordinary.
It makesmeuncomfortable that he’s suddenly so uncomfortable. “Are you trying to apologize or something?”
He snorts. “Hardly. I just figured you were due a better explanation. Now that I’m not quite as angry, y’know.”
I fold my arms across my chest, then immediatelyunfold them when I realize that I’m drawing unnecessary attention to my erect nipples. Dash Lovett is no gentleman. If he was, he wouldn’t have just stared down at my tits through my thin nightshirt, and he wouldn’t be smirking like a total bastard right now, either. “You were angry because I’d busted you chugging vodka,” I say through gritted teeth. “And attacking me felt better than admitting that you were being a dick.”
Dash braces an arm above his head against the doorframe. I try not to notice the fact that the tips of his fingers are only a couple of inches away from my cheek, and that they’re dripping water onto the floorboards. I’ve seen the magic he can work with those fingers. I’ve heard his music in my dreams. Looking at him now, it’s hard to imagine that he was capable of creating something so beautiful. It looks like all he wants to do is destroy. His eyes shine brightly when he looks at me. And boy, do Ifeelit when he looks at me. My goosebumps have goosebumps. I…out of nowhere, I’m fuckingachingunder his gaze.
The dinosaurs couldn’t prevent their untimely demise; that meteor was going to hit Earth no matter what. The stars can’t stop themselves from burning out. Every light in the skywilleventually fade and die. It’s an inevitability that cannot and will not be stopped. My position is just as helpless when I find myself descending, tumbling further down the giant gaping hole in the ground labelled,“Caution: this way lies heartbreak.”
