AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, I’m officially sober.” Rhea groans. “Let’s go home.”
“We’ll walk you.” Wes insists before the objection has even made it off of Ryan’s lips.
“That really isn’t necessary.” I shake my head. Just because we’ve had a strange night doesn’t mean that the town is suddenly a den of evil too sinister for us to make it home. But there’s a shudder sitting between my shoulders, a cold, heavy lump of awareness telling me to swallow my pride before I choke on it.
“Um, there is a strange man out there, assaulting girls and pulling knives on people. I’m not too proud to accept an escort. Thank you.” She tells Wes, tapping his hand in gratitude as she stations herself next to him. I catch a glimpse of Ryan’s obvious sulking as he sidles next to me, and we fall into place behind them.
Most of the crowd has disbanded by the time we leave the Piazza. Those who haven’t quickly scatter when the sheriff pulls up. I scan the faces of the crowd, looking for any trace of the man with the flask or the shadow from the bathroom, but neither is anywhere to be seen.
Thankfully, the walk back to the Boudreaux Estate is short because Ryan’s negative energy and Rhea’s nervous energy are rolling around us in waves, making for a really uncomfortable journey home. No one speaks the whole way there, though Rhea slows enough to fall in step with me and grant me a curious glance.
Rhea’s house is an unnecessarily large mansion made of brick and glass that sits just off the boardwalk. It overlooks the sea while still managing to be surrounded by woods and also decidedly isolated from the rest of the town… or at least, it feels that way.
Ryan makes it clear that he doesn’t want to walk any further out of the way than he has to. He knows his plan backfired and that he isn’t going to get to go home with Rhea. Of the four of us, he seems the most concerned about the possibility of someone coming after us, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Despite his fear, he decides to wait alone, sulking in the ring of light under the streetlamp as Wes walks us up the long, paved path to the front doors.
The porch light, the lanterns scattered down the steps, and the lampposts on either side of the entrance make me feel immediately safer. Whatever may be lurking in the shadows isn’t here, which is an immediate comfort. Despite whatever is going on in the rest of the world, the Boudreaux Estate is a shelter from the storm.
I nod at Rhea, whose fear also seems to have evaporated as she smirks at me, to let her know she can go in and then turn to thank Wes for accompanying us home.
“That was sweet of you to walk us back,” I tell him honestly, not bothering to point out that Ryan would have left us to our own devices.
“I wouldn’t dream of letting you guys walk alone.” He shakes his head, a little laugh escaping him. “Thank you for… an interesting night.”
I laugh, too.
‘Interesting’. I guess that’s one way of putting it.
“So, can I call you?” Wes’ eyes are playful now, glinting in the glow of the porchlight. “Maybe we can try for a re-do?”
“Are you asking for my number?” I tease.
“I am.” He nods with zero hesitation. “I’m in town for a week, and I’d actually really love to see you again.”
“Okay.” I nod, not the least bit ashamed of the goofy little smile tugging on my lips at that admission. “Do you want to put my number in your phone?”
“No, no.” He shakes his head as if the idea is ridiculous and brandishes a pen from the pocket of his dress shirt. “You’re old-fashioned, right?” Grinning, he pushes his sleeve up, presenting his forearm along with the pen.
I eye him a moment, letting myself appreciate the view of a very toned forearm, the thick vein that has no business being so attractive while trying to gauge whether he is serious. I decide he is, and laughing, I take the pen and uncap it with my teeth. Holding his arm steady in my hand, I write my number, then sign it with a heart and my name. “Don’t wash that off,” I warn, a little bit of lust slipping into my words at the thought of him in the shower.
God, Rhea was right. I need to get laid. And I probably would have if the night hadn’t gone off the rails.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wes says with surprising sincerity, though his voice is also husky.
I return the pen to him and catch a glimpse of some sort of tattoo right above his elbow, obscured by his rolled-up sleeve. He doesn’t look like the sort for tattoos, but I want to see it. I want to see a lot more of him.
I wait a moment to see if he will make a move, but he only smiles, so I turn and let myself in.
As soon as I step inside the entry, Rhea lunges at me. I haven’t even finished spinning the lock in place before she demands me to, “Spill it!”
“He’s a nice guy.” I shrug, smiling a little. It’s been a while since I’ve met one of those—I was starting to think they didn’t exist anymore—and it feels like things between us are to be continued. He asked for my number, so he’s clearly interested, but he didn’t move in for a kiss. He either wanted me to be the one to do that, or he was trying to be respectful. Either way, the slightest disappointment swirls in me, mixing with hope for our next encounter.
“A nice guy?” Rhea parrots. “Did you kiss? Was there tongue? Are you going to see him again?”
“He has my number.” I shrug.
“Okay, details! You got to spend an hour with tall, dark, and steamy, and I had to get drunk to tolerate the presence of Tristan never-worked-a-day-in-his-life Ryan.”
I laugh. “Nothing happened, but I’ll tell you everything. Let me get out of this stupid dress, and then I’ll meet you in the theater room. It’s my turn to pick the movie, and you know what that means…”
