Page 5
Beside us, Brandon and Taylor’s conversation has turned more animated.
Catching my gaze, Steven asks, “Would you want to have a drink with me?”
I find myself in and out of my friend’s conversation, waiting for Taylor to look my way before I answer. Catching my cue, she gives me an approving nod. The heat of Steven’s stare grows hotter the longer I take to answer. A weird, maybe even nervous, part of me doesn’t want to leave Taylor’s side.
My pulse stumbles, but I ignore it.
“Sure, I’m just going to use the restroom first.”
“Come, I’ll take you to a nice one.”
With a turn on his heel, his hand floats backwards. Against my better judgement, I place my hand in his once more and follow him. The rough texture of his skin, paired with the plump veins tracing his forearm, causes my stomach to flip.
Which makes my shoulders loosen. Okay, phew. I don’t know why my stomach is giving me such mixed signals. Taylor was probably right about our exhaustion.
Steven guides us through the house smoothly. He gives friendly hellos to servers as we slip through the kitchen. Finally on the other side, the loud music decrescendos. The silence feels abstract alongside my mental noise.
“All of the other bathrooms have probably been used thirty times tonight.”
“Are all the rooms in the house this big?” I ask.
Something unsettling pangs in my gut, but it’s gone just as quickly.
“Just the primary.”
On the other side of the door, a large bedroom fills it. Walking to the gold bar cart in the corner of the room, he pours himself something brown as if he’s done it a million times before.
Which is when it dawns on me.
“T-This is your house?” I whisper.
I can’t shake the shudder in my voice as I survey the room. The walls feel smaller the more I look around. Mostly bare, a piece of abstract art hangs above the bed, but aside from that, the space isn’t memorable.
“It is. Bathroom’s that way.”
Steven points to the obvious, and I remember why we came in here to begin with.
“Right,” I quip, thankful for a temporary getaway.
Closing the door behind me, I huff out an anxious breath.
“Everything’s fine, Fia,” I whisper to myself.
My bladder is full—really fucking full. Caught off guard by how much comes out, I look between my legs just as a thick stream of blood covers the inside of the bowl.
“Shit.”
Jostling in my clutch, I’m grateful to find a wadded-up tampon. Once I’ve handled my lovely surprise, I finish up, re-apply my lip gloss, and brace myself to head back outside.
“All good?”
His deep, familiar voice rakes over my skin the second the door swings open. The sound feels muckier than I remember it being outside.
“Yep, thank you for letting me use your bathroom. You didn’t have to bring me all the way here.”
I don’t hide my quickness as I inch toward the door. Before I reach for the handle, his throat clears. The deep crackle of something sinister fills the air.
The atmosphere suddenly feels weird. Like I shouldn’t be here.
