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“It’s not fear,” she replies. “It’s respect. That house is taken.”
My eyebrows dive for a moment, her words reminiscent of Hunter’s warning.
I inhale a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Bring me some underwear after school, please?”
She’s quiet for a minute, and I know she wants me to come home, but she knows I’ll be angry at myself if I do.
I think the worst thing I have to fear in Weston is free-flowing alcohol. Maybe some misogyny.
Finally, she asks, “You want the fun ones?”
I smile, thinking about the “buy five, get the sixth free” sale on sexy panties we caught before school started this year. “Surprise me,” I tell her and hang up.
No one will see them. I won’t get a boyfriend while I’m here.
But my cheeks warm, picturing Hunter watching me when I didn’t know he was in the room. Thank goodness I didn’t go too far, but he had to know what I was doing underneath the covers. Why didn’t he speak up?
I start to pull the sheet and comforter up the bed, but then I stop.
I’m not at home. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I drop the bedding, leaving it mussed, and take off for the bathroom, tying my hair up as I go.
The shower is surprisingly clean, despite the slightly yellowed grout between the tiles and the sheen on the fixtures gone. There’s no mold. No hair. No sprays of blood or guts from murder victims.
And thankfully, the water is warm now.
I rinse off, avoiding the used bar of green and white marbled soap that rests on a ledge at the corner of the shower. Dried suds cake the bottom, and while it doesn’t look like it’s been used recently, it’s been used since the last Pirate girl.
Hitting the knob, I turn off the shower and grab a towel. Drying off, I step out and head quickly back to the bedroom, pulling on my pair of jeans from last night. I only wore them for a few hours, but I skip the underwear, holding out for Aro to bring clean ones later today.
Donning my bra, I choose a dark gray “D.A.R.E. to keep kids off drugs” T-shirt from the closet and pull it on. I brush my hair, pull it up into a high ponytail, and slip my arms into my Pirate varsity jacket. I want them all to know that I have no intention of going unnoticed.
I slip my phone inside my jacket and yank open the desk drawers, scanning for school supplies. There’s not much. A tattered green Mead notebook, a pen with no cap, two well-used pencils, wrappers from what looks like a roll of SweeTARTS, and an old flip phone. I take it and open it up, seeing it’s dead. I toss it back in the drawer, feeling the residue it left on my fingertips as I rub them together. Ihold my hand up to my nose and inhale the scent of fire and smoke.Hmm.
I snatch up the notebook, pen, and pencils and start to leave, but then I stop.
You’re not alone in that house.
I hop up on the bed, peering up at the vent in the ceiling.
But I don’t notice anything. No light streaming in from a window in the attic above or a glint from a camera lens. Stepping off, I inspect every corner, searching for hidden lenses in between books on the shelves and looking for peep holes in the walls.
There’s nothing.
I commit the room to memory, taking note of how the charging cord hangs over the nightstand drawer, and how the closet door is closed, so I might be able to detect any changes if someone comes in while I’m at school.
I close the bedroom door and jog downstairs, but as soon as I step into the kitchen, I see it’s full of men.
I halt.
Calvin Calderon and Farrow Kelly stand next to the stove, four others spread throughout the kitchen and dining room.
Did they come with Hunter? Were they here the whole time I was in the shower?
I think I recognize all of them, though. All Rebel players. T.C. Wills rests his elbow on the counter, his skin golden and taut over the muscles peeking out of his light gray T-shirt. Luca Tarquin and Anders LaForest sit at the small kitchen table, slouching a little with their long legs taking up all the space.
And I glance behind them, seeing Constin De La Cruz standing at the window. I do a quick inventory, seeing they all have the tattoo.
Except for Constin.
